The Rites at Port Dar Lan
Part Two

It was two years before I was able to return to Port Dar Lan. I had thought of Jojo often and despite a fulfilling life in many ways he dominated my private fantasies. I longed to see and touch him, to love and torment his flesh. No other boy had given me greater pleasure to whip and torture, to push to the limit and beyond his considerable fortitude. I surged with inner excitement at the thought of once more bringing desperate agony to his face, body, mind and chemistry and satisfying my own omniverous lusts. Jojo would be thirteen now, and even more interesting, an imaginative, spunky boy who seemed to welcome, embrace the tests I put him to, and who himself took a wholesome delight in applying the lash and cane to the flesh of other boys.

This time through a bit of luck and a chance acquaintance, a naive Canadian called Bob, I shared a chartered float plane out of Tawitawi. The extra expense was well worth it. Bob though still in his twenties was a veteran of the leather bars and scenes from Vancouver to San Diego, and preferred some obscure club in Oakland to those in Castro Street. However he liked younger partners than he could find in the clubs or the sidewalks outside. He had only the vaguest idea of what to expect at Dar Lan - young guys into leather trips - but his curiosity compensated for his ignorance.

On the rather bumpy flight of the twin engine craft I explained as much as I could about the rites and the opportunities available. Whipping was his favourite indulgence but I could soon tell he wanted greater liberties and more intense relations than he would find at the Mango Tree. I suggested he sponsor a pledgling where he would have great latitude but he claimed he wasn't interested in hairless youngsters, and liked big cocks on his boys. The subject of circumcision fascinated him, he himself was uncut, and perhaps he might like to sponsor a cutling. "You mean a boy would actually let me cut off his foreskin?" I explained it would be expensive, especially if he chose some exotic method. Bob seemed to ponder the possibilities. We would be arriving almost two days early and Bob was disappointed when I mentioned that no whipping or marking of the boys would be allowed until opening day.

We flew along the coast of Borneo, clouds heralding the coming rainy season shrouding most of the interior. I caught a glimpse of the river snaking through the lowland, the last big loop before its mouth almost reaching the sea where the boat people had their settlement. The pilot made one pass checking for snags, circled, and we landed near the mouth below the longhouse. Two young boys who'd been spear fishing splashed over to greet us, goggles pushed back on their heads and their slender bodies beaded with water. I recognized one as Danny Boy who Jojo had delighted in lashing on my previous visit. His face still radiated an innocent charm. I asked him about Jojo and Danny Boy promised to tell him I was here. "He like you much. Tomorrow for sure." I offered him a few dollars for the errand but the lithe lad refused and turned his pert bum to me, "Instead you whip me, OK? I ten now so more better, you get ten." he made spanking motions, "Bamboo Grove, first day, OK?" I promised to flog him and he scampered off cheerfully. Bob looked on incredulously.

More boys began arriving including two Vietnamese about fourteen in smart white trimmed blue T-shirts and tight faded jeans. Then Johnny, our official pot bellied host and the only local adult we were likely to see sauntered up. He welcomed us effusively, remembering me from before, and after checking our names on his list he gave us the keys to our huts. The now half dozen or so boys began clamouring for the privilege of showing us our huts. I decided on the two eager and attractive Vietnamese but Bob seemed uncertain. Then Rene, one of Ali's favourites appeared. They studied each other momentarily and when Rene casually exposed his generous cock Bob made up his mind. We were shown to neighbouring huts separated by dense jungle.

Tan, slightly bigger, seemed to be a serious, sensitive lad while Jean was outgoing, active and did most of the talking. Before they'd finished unburdening themselves of my bags Jean asked, "You like sex now? suck? fuck?" I pretended to demure. Tan went over to the small refrigerator and inquired, "You like beer?" I nodded. "Me coke and Jean?" I nodded again. Jean was impatient, "What sex you like? Two boys same time?" I agreed, but made it clear I merely wanted to watch them engage each other. This was not what they meant but they understood. I sat back in a chair as following instructions they began undressing each other hesitantly at first but then with some flair and finally coyness as underpants were lowered. No surprises, just very ordinary boys underneath, but beauty enough to behold. they bowed formally to each other and then to me, trying to conceal their grins.

Standing in front of me they embraced, licking and kissing each others faces, necks and ears, their stiff little rods probing bellies and their hands sliding over each other shoulders, backs, and down to their bum cracks. they became more gentle and loving, kissing more tenderly. Their excitement built up, hands fondled the other and their breathing became audible. When I suggested they lie on the bed and suck each other they enthusiastically complied, nibbling and licking as if savouring some confectioner's delicacy. They were obviously not new to their mutual task. Soon short vigorous strokes were alternated with long slurpy sucks, their eyes becoming glazed, occasionally brightening and winking when they caught mine watching. Jean came first, forgetting all else, the pulses visible along his urethra as his tongue circled his lips. Only a few seconds passed before he resumed his labours on Tan's thicker rod, his saliva frothing down around the base and its equally sparse hirsute endowment. An all out attack of lips and tongue ensued until Tan writhed, pushed Jean away the last few drops of semen dribbling on his belly.

They relaxed as I examined their now flaccid cocks pulling back the moist foreskins, exposing the delicately sculpted glans and gently kneading their bean sized balls. Refreshments, another beer for me and guava juice for the boys, and while I was getting them from the fridge Tan put a cassette in the tape deck - vintage nostalgia rock. We lay back, sipped and listened as I hugged one in each arm close to me. Except for a few visible scars from the ceremonial whips their skin was invitingly smooth and unblemished. And they would probably want me to whip them at the Mango Tree, or perhaps in my hut. Flesh that has been fondled intimately brings more joy in its whipping, the boys intuitively know that, I'm sure. Or conversely as Ali said, "I like to.... have my lips taste the flesh that tastes my whip." My fingertips continued to stroke and massage them, indeed they would get generous bonuses at the Mango Tree.

Whether it was business, boredom, or simple boys' lust I'm not sure but soon they were both fondling me. And I enjoyed their slow, but careful, neatly folding things method of undressing me, until with a last tented vestment strangling my loins they tore it off triumphantly, and four small, clever hands began manipulating my most sensitive parts with creative expertise. My own hands began playing digital stereo tunes on their springy prongs. We all fell into the rhythm and beat of a Jimi Hendrix number that enveloped our minds. It was a situation that couldn't' last; I told them to stop, I wanted to wallow in titillation longer. They looked disappointed but cheered up when I told them to screw each other. Tan lay over the bed, knees on the floor, head on my lap. He slathered Jean's proud prick leaving it glistening and Jean added his own saliva to the barely visible orifice he was about to enter and slipped his skinny tool in. "Good." Tan grunted, and he began rocking his pelvis to meet Jean's thrusts, and in time to the music. Tan's hands folded under his chin found my expectant rod and soon with every beat his pursed lips worked their way farther down my rod. I stroked his long straight hair and caressed his bobbing head. The rhythm, the beat, interlocked all three of us and the thought of all that puerile energy flowing into me brought on a mental orgasm, a temporary release that would heighten my subsequent physical one. Jean's strokes became longer and more graceful as he concentrated on fucking, and finally frenzied as he came, Tan's lips chomped at my knob as his hands squeezed the base and my balls. Transported beyond the physiological realm I peaked again and again. Jean withdrew all too soon and smiled at me, Tan looked up curiously. I would wait.

With grace, grins and few whispered words they exchanged places. Tan eagerly jabbed his buddy's pink bud wiggling his thicker prick in. "Ahhh', Jean moaned contentedly, responding with his own movements before he began suctioning me. Tan fucked hard and deep, the ramming of his blows transferred to my groin through Jean's busy mouth. I leaned forward and Tan's face reached out to mine, we kissed, my tongue probing the small mouth of the boy fucking the lad sucking me - the circle of sensation was complete. Our tongues played as I massaged Tan's neck, my other hand exploring Jean's moist heavy shoulders and back, and then down under his belly where I found his little cock hard and rubbing against the sheet. His eyes twinkled up at me. I rapidly jerked his slender tool and felt his tongue pick up the faster beat counterpointing the main thrusts. I was driven beyond endurance, my consciousness tried to reach back to my organs overdue to explode. Tan hesitated, rammed with extra force his lips biting down on my tongue as Jean sucked violently, his little cock quivering as semen flooded him fore and aft. My electric orgasm flashed repeatedly before mellowing to a contented haze. I hugged, licked and kissed the boys all over and we cuddled, limbs entangled for a while. I admired their supple forms as we lazily showered. Teasing, posing, running their hands over their chests and sticking out their bums they made me promise to lash them later. Each could receive two dozen strokes on his sassy frame. The boys were hungry, "We eat." Jean insisted as he dressed, "More sex after."

Tan's whistle signal from the porch brought a pretty vendor boy with a basket of junk food within minutes. He was also advertising his flesh, which was as overpriced as his other wares, at the Bamboo Grove. The boys ate ravenously as I selectively snacked. Bob passed by and stopped looking pleasantly stunned by the culture shock of Dar Lan. Rene was with him looking rather amused. "I can't wait til the Mango Tree opens," Bob confided, "And Rene's going to let me try some special things on him, but he won't let me circumcise him. He's promised his skin to some Arab. But there's sure a lot of well hung boys around and they really want to get it. I'm really going to bust ass. It's like a dream here." I told Bob he'd have no trouble finding a boy to cut.

After they ate I fucked each in turn, Jean first, facing me on my lap as we hugged and kissed tonguing each others mouths. Tan, I had lie belly down on the bed and Jean masturbated him and himself as I laboured. Their obviously well practised anal muscles regularly clenched my shaft and my hardest, deepest thrusts only seemed to encourage their response.

After another playful session in the shower we dressed and Jean suggested, "Maybe you like go to sandbar, see boys play rape tag. Just like ordinary tag but after tag you fuck boy too.

All boys watch then count ten and fucked boy try tag another. Always big game before rites. You like see?"

I followed Jean and Tan down the slope and along a trail upstream to where the riverbed began to broaden. As we approached a clearing I heard the lively chatter of small children. There were a dozen small boys, all naked except for two somewhat older ones I judged to be around ten. I noticed a few equally young girls hiding in the tall grass watching them. Several wilting branches of bamboo were stuck in the ground around the clearing. "Little boys make practice game," Jean explained, "so when they get seven they be brave at Bamboo Grove." I saw that a couple of the younger ones already had noticeable welts on their bums and thighs. One of the older boys was crouched earnestly talking to a frightened six year old who nervously clutched his tiny penis. "That Ky, him good teacher." Jean commented. It seemed to be a pep talk and after patting the small boy reassuringly Ky took a very light cane, had the boy bend over and gave him a stinging but not very hard blow. The child, Lucluc he was called, shrieked and began sobbing uncontrollably. There seemed to be no way he would let himself be hit again but his little friends gathered around him, hugging and encouraging him. After a minute, with a buddy already sporting a blossoming bottom hugging him he was ready. Ky gave him another smack, little Lucky only flinching as his friends cheered. A third harder, louder blow stung him as he held on to his buddy. For the next blow, the last it turned out, he stood alone and when he didn't even flinch his little friends let out a joyous yelp, and did an impromptu dance in a circle around him. Soon another six year old began pestering Ky, holding up five fingers and bending over peering around expectantly. He remained passive as he got five good strokes across his skinny buttocks and thighs. Just as we continued on two of the smallest boys grabbed the cane and began taking turns swatting each other.

After climbing for a short distance we began descending the leafy trail and I got glimpses of boys running and shouting out on a sandbar. "Rape tag." Jean and Tan became excited and asked if they could join in, "One turn only." I agreed but wondered how they could perform after their recent sexual workout. They ran ahead and when I emerged from the jungle I could see that an older boy had tagged a youngster of eleven or twelve and was energetically humping away as the others looked on. The boy on the bottom was soon up and chasing the others, almost tagging Tan at one point. I noticed a well dressed young man also watching not far away whom I assumed must also be a tourist although his Malay like features were unusual for a guest. The action circled around by the river then came towards me, the handsome but hairless lad making the tag almost at my feet. The boy who was now 'it', a muscular youth, crouched over as the younger one mounted him from behind. Jean was standing beside me. He indicated the one on top, "That Chi, he fuck four boys now." I noticed the stranger had come over to watch and I asked him if he often attended the rites.

"No," he replied in good English, "it's the first time since I was a boy. Dar Lan used to be my home." We talked while the boys fucked in front of us. He'd left Dar Lan seven years ago and was now a successful businessman in Singapore. He'd come back to visit his sister-in-law and his late brother's family. The oldest son was to pledge in the coming rites. "When I lived here," the stranger continued, "I did not understand or appreciate the advantages of growing up in Port Dar Lan, of being free from some of civilization's absurd taboos and morality. When I pledged we were very poor and I allowed my sponsor anything he wanted, it took me over a month to heal. And I'm sure the cutting whips were more cruel in those days," he bared his chest revealing lines of scar tissue, "but Dar Lan has enabled me to view the world objectively and discover how easy success is."

The boys were off and running and my two companions had joined in again. The stranger turned to me and said, "I have seen what I wanted, perhaps you would like some tea? My sister's house is not far." The trail became more open and I saw pigs running loose as we approached the settlement. His sister had a small plank and thatch shack on the outskirts. A TV antennae and a new boys bike suggested relative affluence. The interior was brightly decorated, a five year old was sprawled on a cushion in front of the television and the sister was nursing a sturdy two year old and ruffling his genitals. She smiled graciously when we entered. The stranger, Simon, made introductions and after a few pleasantries his sister offered tea. The child was reluctant to give up his teat. His mother gently lifted him up, kissed him teasingly on the lips a few times and set him on the floor as she went to the cooking shed. The two year old sulked briefly and the waddled over to his brother watching TV, and tugged at his shorts. The five year old ignored him for almost a minute but then without taking his eyes off the screen he half rolled over, pulled down his shorts and let his brother suck on him.

"Things are not as free as they may seem," Simon began, "mutual consent is an absolute rule. And once a boy has pledged he may no longer fuck or play spanking games with boys who have not offered their flesh at the Bamboo Grove. And parents never use pain as punishment, it serves a higher purpose here." I asked him about girls. "Girls have their own pleasures among themselves of which men are mainly ignorant, but I can assure you that they come to the marriage bed no less skilled in sexual arts than do our boys. And until as part of their own rites they announce their readiness for sex with men by parading in red robes, no man or boy would dare accost them. And no woman would bed a man who wasn't cut. Should a girl become pregnant they must marry and he support the child. Boys are understandably very careful, and as you've seen there's no shortage of other sexual diversions." He paused. "Most boys leave here, many with wives, before they finish their teens with enough to start life elsewhere. Dar Lan is not a good place to spend your life, isolated and impoverished as it is. I would have brought my brother's family out years ago but it was his dying wish that his sons be raised here, and I can understand that."

I noticed the five year old push his brother away and pull up his shorts just before Simon's sister returned with the tea. However a couple of minutes later the toddler again had his head nuzzled in his brother's groin although this time he seemed more interested in just playing with his brother's penis than sucking it. "Soon," Simon observed, "he'll want his brother to fuck him, but he gets fed up with doing it when he'd rather be screwing kids his own age, but I don't want to discourage the little one from trying. Only in Dar Lan are boys really free, free to explore their natural sexuality. And their testings under the whips and whims of the tourists have the complete sympathy and support of the community. The most severe abuse, as some might call it, is no more traumatic than a sprained ankle to other boys. Here boys fuck each other, whip each other and make passionate love to each other, and form bonds and loyalties that stay with them throughout their lives. That also explains their success." The five year old was now disinterestedly fucking his brother, his eyes still glued to the TV screen. "My late brother fucked me from infancy and I tasted my uncle's milk while I still suckled on my mother's."

Just then the young boy I'd seen playing rape tag, Chi, burst into the house, excited, "Uncle Simon, I get to fuck two big boys, one have lots of hair on his legs." Simon apologized for not explaining who his nephew was earlier and introduced us. Chi was certainly a healthy, good looking specimen of boyhood. Simon told the boy he'd been observing him and asked him about his pledging, "Oh Mr. Randolph, he like me very much, four times he whip me at Bamboo Grove, like to cane ass very hard. He sex me plenty, all kinds, very big cock. Already I let him do special things, hurt much, but he rich and pay plenty." Simon, with a word of caution, congratulated his nephew, hugging and fondling him. "You sleep with me tonight?" Chi asked. But before Simon could answer the five year old leapt off his brother and with his rigid little prick bouncing and glistening complained, "But I was going to ask him first." A compromise was negotiated where both would share Simon's bed.

It was getting dark outside but fortunately less than halfway back on the trail I met up with Jean and Tan resting under a tree. Tan had tagged twice, Jean only once, but both said they were 'fucked out'. Dinner at the longhouse featured an excellent ragout served by pledglings wearing long nylon fishnet tunics which lent a hazy aura to their nudity. After we retired to my hut for our evening entertainment. I would have loved to whip their delicate bodies, etching the lash into their pale pubescent torsos and thighs, but I knew that would have to wait.

"You gonna fuck us again or what?" Jean bluntly inquired. I told him he could help me tie Tan back to the sturdy lattice room divider. I made sure Tan's feet were off the floor as we closely tied each limb and his torso with lengths of cotton rope. Each knot behind was secured to a twisting stick that could be used to increase the tightness of the bond. The twenty or more separate bonds, including ones around his neck and under his jaw suspended him collectively without much discomfort. He became a little apprehensive however when I slowly began tightening, "balancing" I said, each individual bond. His soft flesh bulged out in ridges between the ropes. Then, as I'd once done with Jojo, I stretched out his scrotum, noosed his spongy little nuts and tied them back to the lattice. With Jean watching I teased and tickled the immobilized lad to exhaustion. After a rest I began sensitizing and stimulating his bound body soon getting his pretty prick hard and quivering, bringing him close to coming. Then I tightened his bonds a little bit more and began suctioning his responsive rod. As I sensed his orgasm building up again I used one hand to forcibly tighten the two bonds around his pubes and lower belly. He erupted in my mouth and I kept on sucking him till he went crazy. Tan demanded and got a bonus for the last part. Jean said he should have asked for twice as much, "I think I like spanking better."

It was Jean's turn. I would take him at his word though I planned to leave no marks. I tied him up into a boy ball, his elbows hooked behind his knees wrists cinched to his neck only his feet protruding. He could barely move. I took a stiff strap and watching his increasing anguish I gave each of his pink soles four sharp smacks. A minor torment for the lad but it inspired me as I vigorously fucked the still ball bound boy twisting and rolling him around, prodding him from all angles as he strained in discomfort. After a light snack we slept till dawn.

Jojo found me next morning at breakfast in the longhouse and eyed Tan and Jean jealously. He had grown several inches becoming slimmer and more muscular and his glowing complexion and a perceptible haze on his upper lip announced he was in the throes of puberty. He remained unusually quiet and undemonstrative until we were alone in my hut, where he hugged and kissed me passionately wriggling his lengthening body against mine. I embraced him silently more than a minute before I slowly started to unbutton his shirt. He beamed proudly when I commented on his fine developing physique and posed muscles flexed. I felt a new hardness and strength beneath his golden skin. Then with pompous ceremony I lowered his snug shorts, revealing dark wiry curls, not yet a bush, invading the peach of his pubes, and then down the length of his tumescing cock, which was outgrowing the rest of him and down to the new fullness and blueness of his foreskin til his machine sprung free, a bright rosy glans peeking out at me. It was not like the puny appendage I'd loved, teased and tortured before. And his tightly sacked testicles felt more tender than ever as I gave them a measured squeeze. Jojo smiled smugly as I continued my meticulous examination. The firmer buttocks and more muscled thighs, both silken to the touch, were even more inviting to whip and cane, to sear with explosive pain that would bring exquisite joy to my heart and loins leaving stark welts and bruises as momentos. His boyish intelligent knees seemed unchanged but his now fleshier calves begged for abuse. And the pretty pink soles of his feet, that I'd beaten with thick bamboo before to the edge of his endurance were wonderfully pliant. I'm sure Jojo was reading my mind.

"Why you not come back soon?" Jojo demanded. My honest but uninspired reasons barely satisfied him. "I like you come back and whip and sex me all the time. I like you do special things for extra money." I told him I'd made some special plans but couldn't exceed the rules much as I would like to. I assured him we'd have plenty sex. "But money from Mango Tree and sex not enough, I buy television now, need payment." His dextrous hands began stroking my ribs and stomach. "Like maybe you sponsor whipling, I be his buddy, whipmate, then you do me same like pledgling." I had vaguely heard of the arrangement and the prospect of some heavy sessions with Jojo certainly had its appeal. I asked him 'who'. "Maybe Sammy...." I hadn't forgotten Sammy, the magnificently built and hung Amerasian with a baby face who'd reached puberty at nine and was one of Jojo's pledge brothers. Jojo lay back on the bed manipulating his foreskin so that the glans played peek-a-boo with my eyes. I agreed to his proposal.

"What your special plan you make?" Jojo asked casually. I reminded him of the needles. "Like when you blindfold me and I get scared?" I nodded remembering he'd found it an interesting torture after. I selected a small needle, actually a pin, from my kit as Jojo stood hands clasped behind his neck facing me seated. "I like watch, OK?" I kneaded his nipples already tender from puberty's onslaught and squeezed one out from behind stretching the skin of the cone. Then trying not to puncture the skin I jabbed rapid fire an intricate pattern of pricks on the tiny tit. Jojo watched with interest remaining horny and cheerful, finally commenting, "Hurt lots but good kind of pain." When with variations I had tormented his other tit leaving a few minuscule droplets of blood, Jojo inquired, "You do cock now?"

His slender rod rose near vertical as I nodded. I began by pinching and stretching his tight foreskin then drew it back completely exposing his glans. It tensed superhard as I positioned the needle and he trembled with excitement. Encouraged I began stippling his glans paying particular attention to the taut rim of the corona and the sensitive skin where it meets the shaft. More tiny droplets appeared. I worked the jabbing needle down the web of his foreskin and in circles around the thin inner skin. Jojo was shaking, for a moment I thought he would erupt in orgasm. I looked up, his eyes were closed, mouth open, lost in inner space and sensation. I slowed down increasing the pressure and watching his expression as he digested each sharp jab. I finished with a final flurry on his glans. He shrugged and relaxed seeming pleased with his performance. I informed him that he'd only had a taste of the torture, a mere hors d'oevre I was tempted to say, that I planned for his most sensitive parts later. He looked at me nonchalantly and I took my proud spunky whipmate in my arms and kissed him. We played on the bed ending up cuddling. I hadn't really pushed him and he knew it, we had three days to play and I did not want to blemish and bruise his beautiful body prematurely.

After a while I decided to assault his little puckered sphincter but he shoved me away. I grabbed him momentarily but he wrenched away laughing at me but staying on the bed. Jojo stuck out his tongue and taunted, "Make me," I grabbed a foot but the other kicked me hard in the chest and he laughed again. I knew it was a game but the force of his kicks and punches had a serious quality. Another attempt at grabbing him bought only a painful heel in my groin and mocking jibes, but he stayed on the bed fingering his ass. I leapt on him furiously, we exchanged hard blows, and after more than a minute of vigorous combat where I twisted his arms and ankles painfully to roll him over I had him in the position I wanted. He still sneered and laughed, and his struggles frustrated my entry. Finally I got an iron grip on his elusive little balls, he spat at me, but I was able to penetrate his narrow, slippery ass. He soon relaxed and grinned around at me, "You like rape me better?" What a genius he is! He worked his anal muscles expertly complementing my thrusts. I did not care to delay and he kept me clenched long after prolonging my ecstasy.

I kissed my precious Jojo, stroking his hair and neck, cuddling him close. He returned my affection generously but after a while he demanded, "ME!" His slender rigid prick quivered before me. I understood and served him lovingly with my lips. I felt his spasms start, no blanks this time, and I was rewarded with my first taste of Jojo's joy juice spurting in my mouth. I swirled it around with my tongue to better taste the essence of his manhood. I was working on a second helping from his still stiff cock contemplating the next torture I would subject him to, when he insisted, "We go find Sammy,". He soon began to squirm, held my head against his groin with all his boyish strength, his pecker pulsed then quickly softened. "now!" he completed his statement. He dressed in a wink and I followed him out the door.

His whistle signals brought boys running, the word went out, and ten minutes later we met Sammy at the deserted Mango Tree, that magnificent arboreal specimen where during the rite pledged boys sought of have their flesh flagellated by tourists for a price of course. Sammy was thirteen like Jojo, but except for his fuzzy moustache and long wispy sideburns he had the face of a ten year old. His body was something else, a leaner, more muscled version of Jojo's, a classic boy form to whip and welt, the stuff of dreams. He was one of the most popular boys at the Mango Tree and already bore a few faint scars from the enthusiasm he inspired among the guests. He gave me a broad open smile, his eyes seeming to dance. He and Jojo conversed briefly in some dialect before making an offer they knew I wouldn't refuse. I would certainly enjoy the minor privileges that would be mine for sponsoring him as a whipling, and to see his muscled flesh lacerated by the ceremonial whips at the rites. I looked him over, man sized balls, a cock the most macho of men would be proud of, and dense fur creeping up to his navel, all this on a slim, sweet faced, big eyed lad just entering his teens. Different yes, but a tempting morsel that had my hormonal glands salivating.

He had to make arrangements with the older boys organizing the rites but could spare a few minutes first. Back at my hut I lightly pinched and massaged his fine physique and blew him, slurping his flood of juice. I fucked him as he expected and wanted me to, but with uncommon violence squeezing his firm flesh. Naturally I had him fuck Jojo, roughly I said, and admired his sweating athletic body as he rammed his thick eight incher in, and in again jolting Jojo's narrow ass, paining him to my pleasure. Showers and light refreshments. I sucked his enormous willing tool again, still getting a taste for my trouble, before he had to leave.

It was time to torture Jojo again, little more than a tease I said bringing out some six inch hat pins. He looked at me curiously and after I explained what I wanted.. He said the porch would be a better place to do it. When I opened the door two very young boys who'd obviously been spying scampered away. "OK for little boys look, help make brave." Jojo commented. My whipmate stood on the railing pushing up against a beam with all his strength, the sinews and muscles of his legs clearly defined. I took two of the big pins and shoved them through the hardened muscles of his calves. The pliable skin dimpled as it was punctured and peaked as the pin emerged on the other side. An impressive but not very painful feat that has been performed by fakirs for centuries. The two little boys stared from a few feet away and more arrived. Among them I recognized Ky and little Lucluc or Lucky from the practice game. I removed the pins before Jojo relaxed and beckoned the little boys closer. Next I had Jojo do chinups from the beam. After a few to limber his arms I had him stop half way and shoved a pin through his small bulging bicep. Lucky was fascinated so I gave him a pin and with Ky helping he worked it through Jojo's other straining arm muscle. Later as Jojo did pushups I allowed other little boys turns piercing his triceps and the muscles of his shoulders and back. They were delighted with the opportunity.

I found enough soft drinks and juice for all in the small fridge. As we sat around Lucky pulled down his pants to show us the still discernible marks on his bum. We politely examined them, and then he tugged at Ky holding up two fingers. Ky let him plead for a few seconds before he took off his belt, doubled it over, and gave the child two hard smacks across his puny thighs. They were more than he'd expected but he took it well and seemed very proud of the brightness of his weals.

Jojo was hungry as usual so we went for lunch at the longhouse. The barbecued fish with lightly curried greens and rice were attractively prepared and served by courteous pledglings in short, simple white tunics, slit to allow glimpses of their genitals made up to appear like some exotic tropical fruit hanging from their green dyed pubes. A nearby Frenchman was dissatisfied however and called for the young chef. He had him ejaculate on his food before he tasted it, "Ah Magnifique!" he exclaimed. Bob still looking stunned came in with Rene, they'd just returned from a tour of the Garden Path which was open for the benefit of early arrivals. "Have you seen it?" Bob asked as if it might be unreal, "Little kids fucking and sucking each other, and all sorts of other things. I can hardly wait til tomorrow when we can start whipping them, as many as we want." I told him I'd heard there was a little ceremony at midnight, if he was really anxious, and that the Mango Tree would be open for a while if he wanted to flog a few by torchlight.

I changed into my swimming trunks and we headed for the beach. Jojo stripped and ran ahead plunging into the surf. I joined him, we frolicked, then swam out to a bare rocky islet, clambering up the lee side and lay in the sun. Fine spray misted us as the waves crashed. We dallied, dallianced, and were gently affectionate to compensate for future cruelty. He kissed me passionately, then kicking me in the stomach and he raced me back to the beach and won. I chased him and he chased me as we playfully splashed and romped. We rolled in the warm white sand becoming grainy men of stone, I tossed him in the waves, leapt after him and we wrestled in the sea til rinsed. Dry again we rested watching the puffy clouds. He told me a friend had weights and he exercised everyday. "You like to see?" I nodded.

We wandered down the beach towards the settlement to where two rocky points enclosed a sandy cove. A dozen boys, unencumbered were doing cartwheels, flips and leaping over each other, their agile bodies twisting, bending, legs and arms flung out, cocks bouncing, and the limbs bending to make the next move. It was a delight to view. Jojo joined in, running, jumping, doing somersaults and flips. He wrestled two boys his own size and pinned them to the ground giving me a smile after. He came back and sat beside me as two youngsters began kick boxing, no doubt learned from TV movies. Though a game it was no gentle play fight as kicks and punches jarred their battling forms. A clever, leaping back kick caught one on the head and he passed out briefly. Another two took their place and fought until one battered boy had enough and another pair came forward. The last fight we watched left a ten year old crumpled, clutching his groin in agony.

I'd noticed little Lucky up on the rocks watching and when we left he followed us several yards behind. Jojo and I discussed the fights we'd seen and I told him he'd make a fine punching bag. "No, no." he protested, "Not like punches, very bad. You break my bones." I explained I didn't mean me but, signalling Lucky to catch up, Him. Lucky of course was eager and we found a secluded spot shaded by palms. Jojo removed his shirt and I pulled his shorts down to the sparse hairs of his pubes. Then I held his arms tightly behind him forcing out his chest and told the little six year old he could punch Jojo above his shorts. It took Lucky a few blows to get the feel of things and he did a lot of prancing and gesturing karate style in between, but soon his tiny fists were thudding into Jojo's ribs and flexed stomach muscles regularly. He unleashed a few flurries of jabs to the gut as Jojo held his breath. I could see Lucky was enjoying himself as his eyes flashed up to mine. Singly the frail boy's blows would have been nothing to Jojo but cumulatively they had an effect. His front was reddening, he was sweating heavily and his arms struggled to get loose. "Good fun eh?" Lucky grinned, but he was getting tired and his punches were weaker. They'd both had enough. I sent Lucky on his way with a small gratuity.

Back at my hut I massaged Jojo's front with oil, the inflammation would be gone by morning . "Not like punches," Jojo complained, "needles better." I told him that was precisely what I had in mind, after I had a beer. I put a cassette of classical music into the tape deck, the 1812 Overture, and brought Jojo a Coke. I told him he'd get more than a taste this time. He looked at me thoughtfully, I knew this type of torture held a certain fascination for him. I told him his foreskin would be very sore after but that torturing it would give me great pleasure and wouldn't mark up his body very much. I was saving his major whippings and canings until after the Blood Pledge Ceremony tomorrow.

I started by caressing him and sucking on his responsive rod, being careful not to make him come. I brought out my kit of torture implements. Jojo immediately noticed the shiny hooks with eyes like barbless fish hooks and asked me what they were for. I told him they were for his foreskin, which I then stretched out marking its extremity with a fine felt pen. Then I pulled it back where the marks showed I divided the circumference into eight parts. I took a shiny hook and was about to pierce it through a small fold by a mark when there was a tapping at the door. I did not want to be interrupted but the tapping continued. I opened the door a crack - it was Lucluc or Lucky begging to come in and watch. I was against the idea although I knew it would increase the excitement of the torture to have him there. But I relented when Jojo called out, "It's OK if he wants." I told the child to be quiet, not say a word and sit at the other end of the bed. I began inserting the first hook through a pinched fold on the bottom of his seemingly eager cock. His intense eyes flickered as the skin was punctured. He appeared confident. I was finding it difficult to pinch out the right amount of skin and push the hook through at the same time. Lucky was gradually creeping closer and I had an idea. Lucky's small fingers would be ideal for pinching out the folds and he was so happy to help. After eight shiny hooks were encircling Jojo's shaft he reported that they only really hurt at first. I told him to be patient and brought out a six inch wooden ring with eight pegs circling one side, and threaded a thin cord through each hook eye and around a peg drawing it tight until his foreskin stretched out into an octagon. Jojo was feeling his most sensitive skin being stretched well beyond its normal elasticity and it hurt especially around the holes punched through it. I forcefully tightened the cord increasing and diffusing the pain considerately, but his prick remained hard and excited. "Look like star." Lucky interrupted. I told him to shut up. After allowing the skin a moment to adjust I tightened the cord more, Jojo grimacing, and let him examine his tormented appendage while I fetched three glasses of mango juice and some small sweet bananas about the size of Jojo's hardon. He wasn't hungry but drank his juice.

The overture was in a melodious phase and Jojo's prick was like a flower with its pointed flesh petals surrounding the knob. I kissed the perfect little glans ignoring Lucky whose eyes pleaded to do the same. It was now time to stretch his foreskin lengthwise. I moved him onto three stools, one under his head, one under his ankles and a third under his ass, and I placed a good weight on his belly. With another cord I secured the wooden ring to an overhead beam and pulled it tight stretching his foreskin up til the rim became translucently thin, the tiny blood vessels forming an attractive intricate design. It looked like a Venetian goblet with a rosy olive in it. However Jojo was suffering terribly, he was beginning to tremble, his face was screwed up, teeth gritted and dripping sweat. I bent over him kissed his lips and he managed to kiss and tongue me back. What a marvellous lad he is! I took off the weight and removed the stool under his ass so he have to keep his body rigid to avoid more pain. I knew he couldn't do it for long. Lucky had his twig out flipping it rapidly. Jojo began moaning pitifully and finally slumped elongating the goblet as it took most of his weight. Then it filled up and overflowed splashing piss on him. I checked the hooks, my only concern was that the holes did not tear through. His moaning became louder and more erratic as I had Lucky massage my balls and suck on me though I didn't want an orgasm yet. Jojo was now crying, little squeals with every breath, but despite his exquisite agony he did not use his hands to ease his suffering - I was proud of him. I replaced the stool under Jojo's bottom, released the ring from the beam, partial relief softening his face, and moved him back on the bed to make him more comfortable. I let him rest as the overture approached its climax, the famous brass canon booming. Then I jiggled the ring and his foreskin up and down and was pleased to see his pain wracked cock still willing. I kept on jiggling, harder as the canon boomed, and at the end his pee-hole spat out gobs of pearly semen. I licked it up and removed the hooks from his skin, a garland of small paired blood droplets formed where the skin had been pierced. I smothered him with kisses praising him openly and honestly.

Lucky fell asleep while I showered off with Jojo. The end of his foreskin had a pleasant glow and was very tender but gave him little residual pain. I fucked him gently that night nibbling on his earlobes and licking his neck. Then I screwed him again and slept contentedly.

The next morning I awoke before the boys feeling refreshed and looking forward to exercising my arm and viewing the ceremonies at the longhouse. I amused myself by fondling Lucky's diminutive body and organs as he slept - he would improve with age. I turned to Jojo, his sweet face peacefully nestled on the pillow beside me, and kissed him softly before pulling down the sheet and studying his boyish contoured form as his small cock softened and grew hard with some cycle of his sleep. The foreskin still glowed from the delectable torment I'd subjected it to and the puncture marks were like tiny pimples. I kissed his peeking glans and slowly sucked in the fine tool massaging it carefully with my tongue as it was very sore. I soon felt spasms from deep within him and warm juice flooded my mouth. Pubescent boys come quickly in the morning when their minds are still attached to dreams. Jojo smiled without opening his eyes and rolled over apparently asleep. He stirred as I prodded and worked my way in to his moist warm orifice and continued to doze as I lazily fucked him. Then I got a grip on his nipples, dug in my thumbnails in and pinched. His entire body came alive struggling and writhing, feeding my ecstasy as I began ramming him roughly until I'd satisfied myself.

Jojo was not pleased and complained, "Too early, I like sleep, you make pain in me later." Much as I could sympathize with his protest I wanted to get in some flogging before breakfast and told him to stand on a stool. Lucky meanwhile had woken and I asked him to bring us all some juice. I took a short heavy strap with an embossed leather handle and after waiting til Jojo had his juice I began pounding his calves, one at a time, watching the flesh swivel around as I did. When they were nicely blushing I let Lucky try his hand while I got dressed. Then I sent the child away.

Bob was at the long house interviewing candidates for the blade. In one hand he had the pale penis of a tall, well hung Chinese youth and in the other a darker one of equal stature belonging to a scrawny Afroasian. Suddenly a lean, tough looking hilltribe boy pushed his way in. "How much you pay?" he demanded. Bob, cocks still in hand said that it all depends. "What your maximum? What you like do, eh? Use machete? hunting knife? maybe nail clippers or old Ullongi stone?" Bob hadn't thought much about how, but he was impressed by the boy's brash manner. "You like see cock? - There." In size it didn't compare to the others but its long rich foreskin was much like a man's, deeply tinged and with many fine veins. Bob forgot about the others and made a rather generous bargain, but he would get to use the old Ullongi Stone knife, a slow and painful method. The boy, Hweng or Willy insisted he would stand in the traditional way while he was cut.

Jojo's appetite was enormous, second helpings of rice, eggs and what passes for bacon in this part of the world. I was pleased as he would need the protein to help him recover from the ravages I intended to inflict on his growing body, and I remembered Ali once saying that healthy boys are more fun to flog and had to agree. Only a despicable pervert would want to thrash a sickly child or one who cowers in fear. Jojo was anxious to go to the Mango Tree, I'd promised him a treat, and Bob said he'd join us soon.

As we approached the Mango Tree I could hear a loud Australian cursing and shouting, "You boy, you're the miserable motherfucker I want. Now get out of those Tarzan togs." The stocky, balding man had a dark skinned whipling by the hair trying to force him to the ground. "What d'you mean, you won't let me cane you? What're you here for anyway? I didn't pay good money to have some mongrel slope make a fool out of me." A husky blue clad cutling appeared and told him the boy was within his rights and that he should never, never assault a boy's head. The man became a bit more reasonable. "I give you twice the going rate."

"You not have half money for what you want."

After his first choice obstinately refused he approached another boy, and another, a fistful of money in his hand, but all refused or ignored him. He left in a rage. Jojo commented, "Not many bad tourists like him. He get boy later to make happy. We pay bonus. If tourist real bad, make danger, we kill, like we kill man that sneak in camera." I thought of kissing Jojo.

As I expected Jojo chose a cutling so he could have the maximum of three dozen lashes allowed. He had the well built youth suspended by his wrists and took his time picking out a whip. He finally chose a shorter, heavier lash. Jojo told me, with all the details I would like to hear, how the boy was circumcised at the rites a month ago, and that he had once been treated to own flesh by a generous tourist. I told my whipmate he should be flattered but he pretended not to understand, rubbed his hardon and spat out, "Me get even now." I knew he was joking, but only with words, and he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely as he laid on hard, loud, well spaced strokes front and back, raising long weals on the dangling youth. I was impressed by how much his whipping technique had improved. The cutling, his flesh brightly etched at the end, just managed to maintain his composure through the ordeal and joked with Jojo after. "Him good friend." Jojo confided to me later.

Bob Arrived slightly out of breath, and looked around like a kid in a candy store. 'Well, here goes." he announced. The nearest lad, a Vietnamese whipling was his first, and he exuberantly lashed his back, buttocks and thighs. I suggested he slow down to better enjoy the boy's suffering but he was already working on his second before the first was untied. His generosity soon had a waiting list of eager lads. He experimented with different ways of tying them up and tried the cane and the strap which he favoured for a while. He worked them over vigorously, bloodying a couple and pushing at least one to near his limit, but all left happily with a good price in their hands. But Bob was getting tired from his exertions and Jojo was pleading for another treat. When Bob had finished welting a well hung doe eyed whipling he particularly liked I suggested he take him to one of the fuck huts nearby. He thought it was a brilliant idea and so did the boy. While Bob was lowering the level of lust in his loins I picked out a delicate looking long haired Amerasian whipling for myself and had him strung up, legs stretched wide apart. After examining his pale thighs and belly, and surprisingly long, skinny, pendant cock I flicked back the whip and caught an upper thigh with a searing coiling stroke. I worked the full two dozen in around his loins and pert rounded bum drawing a minor amount of blood and accidentally nicking his lovely cock twice. Tears streamed down his cute face but he smiled and thanked me politely when I paid him. I would have like to have taken him to a fuck hut for further pleasures but Jojo reading my mind glared angrily at me. He was jealous. Bob came back with a satisfied but silly smile on his face. We watched three excited, talkative Japanese in business suits take turns caning the buttocks of three pledglings. I suggested we move on to the Bamboo Grove.

Bob, preferring somewhat older boys had been reluctant to leave the Mango Tree but his curiosity got the better of him. And there was my promise to Danny Boy to flog him but he wasn't there. The Bamboo Grove was crowded with guests and boys. The youngsters were mostly naked unlike at the Mango Tree and could not be tied up or restrained in any way. Some of their older buddies came over to bargain but I said we'd watch for a while first. Prices had risen considerably since my last visit but business was good with four young ones being variously caned and strapped when we arrived. The best show was an athletic older man strapping the ass of a fine featured boy doing a shoulder stand with his knees bent down to his chin. I asked Jojo how he'd like that. "Maybe, sometime." he answered disinterestedly looking over the young flesh available. And then I saw the boy I wanted, possibly eight and plausibly a younger brother of the one I'd just whipped. His buddy let me know he didn't come cheap. I took him to a fuck hut first as Jojo glowered at me. His ass was very tight and the obvious pain I caused embellished my pleasure. The eight strokes I was permitted with the light strap, I distributed on his chest, belly and the inside of his thighs. He bore them very well and after we returned to the fuck hut for an encore. To appease Jojo I let him have another treat but warned him it would cost him an extra heavy caning on his thighs. He chose the smallest, most cherubic child available, a hilltribe boy wearing an elaborate silver necklace with blue beads and teeth. His buddy said he'd only been whipped twice before at the Grove. Jojo picked up a thin whip and practiced slashing the air. The child stepped forward unafraid, carefully took off the heavy necklace and smiled shyly sticking out his puny chest and round belly. Jojo adjusted his hardon more comfortably in his loincloth before slashing the boy's soft belly four times leaving narrow red lines. "Owwoo!" the child squealed but more as a comment than a sign of suffering and he appeared almost unconcerned as Jojo finished off with three strokes across his buttocks and thighs. And despite his sore cock Jojo took him to one of the fuck huts for more fun.

While Jojo was screwing his treat Bob noticed a rather forlorn, urchin-like nine year old wearing only a tattered grey T-shirt. "Well," he mused, "while I'm here I might as well try one of the youngsters, but I can't quite see beating them like older boys." The buddy noticed Bob's interest and came over. Bob looked over the skinny forlorn boy, said he could keep his shirt on and picked out a very flexible bamboo cane which he flicked like a switch. He asked the boy to dance, but he didn't understand at first. And when he did, he signalled Bob to wait and borrowed a Walkman from a friend. He was soon expressively twisting and stepping to music we couldn't hear. Bob watched for a minute before swatting the dancing boy's legs. He told him not to stop. The next hard smack caught him just above the knees. And in perhaps nine minutes he landed as many hard strokes, all good ridge raising blows on the nimble boy's dancing legs. Jojo looking very smug returned from the fuck hut with his hilltribe child who sported inflamed nipples and foreskin which cost me extra. We left Bob with his new found fascination.

There was not enough time before the ceremonies to give Jojo the proper caning I had planned, such things are not to be rushed, so while he munched a mango, the juice running down his chin, I merely gave his thighs a thorough slapping with a light belt to sensitize them for the crueller cane later. Then without a word he dashed off to help Sammy prepare for the ceremonies.

I made my way up to the longhouse alone in a contemplative mood as heavy clouds began to darken the sky. For millenniums man has enjoyed the crack of the lash across his fellows' flesh, and often his own. I thought especially of the traditions of whipping boys from the remotest regions to the centres of great civilizations, not savage, senseless thrashings that leave boys' spirits broken or bodies maimed but ones that push them to explore and expand their limits and understanding, to whip with joy and empathy, not anger and hate, to relate not punish with the pain applied subtly and cleverly so the boy will accept more, where bruises become badges proudly worn and welts the stripes of rank in fortitude. The tradition is tenuously preserved in Dar Lan. And the boys are traditionalists, except for the Blood Pledge Ceremony I was about to see, no obvious scar forming torments are allowed, nor cattle prods or other electric devices so beloved by modern dictators, nor any drugs, pain killing or causing, or other paraphernalia of contemporary interrogation. And the boys themselves will not tolerate humiliation, degradation or master/slave mind games.

The longhouse was already crowded when I arrived, boys milling around although only those pledged or soon to be were permitted to attend. Jojo was conferring with Sammy, I waved to them. With the ceremony about to commence Sammy took his place on the pedestal standing proudly erect. I admired his magnificent build and generous cock as I rubbed him down with coconut oil. His skin having little fat padding beneath felt thin and vulnerable, I was sure he would bleed copiously. His pale body gleamed like a shiny new car as he went through the ritual poses. Chi, Simon's nephew energetically flailed his chest softening it for the cutting whips. When the pledglings had completed their preliminary task the whip wielders danced in to the beat of a drum their hooked beaded tassels rustling to their movements. Hweng, or Willy, the boy Bob would be circumcising tomorrow stopped in front of me facing a stocky Vietnamese lad. Next to him in front of Sammy a slight probably Kymer boy who was practically hairless and smaller than most of the boys to be bled took his place. After the preliminary caressing where the whip wielders demonstrated their skill, the ceremonial whips began to slash the whiplings chest drawing blood almost immediately. Willy showed impressive form opening long cuts on the Vietnamese's breast and the slight Kymer lad was surprisingly effective in blooding Sammy. The rotations proceeded, blood flowed freely to the delight of the pledges who smeared themselves and each other becoming almost manic. Chi was one of the wildest, I saw him suck blood from a gash in Sammy's thigh, spray it straight up and let it rain down on him. Towards the end the blood bedecked pledges piled on each other in a frenzied free for all, rolling around in the dirt, laughing, grabbing, jacking and even attempting to fuck.

Sammy's face was starkly pale and he trembled as I sponged him down with the searing salty sea water. Jojo helped support him and led him away to rest.

There was a light rain with a cooling breeze as I followed the crowd down to the Mango Tree where the new pledges were tied up for the first time suspended from the branches their feet staked wide apart. It was also their initiation to the heavier lash. The small boys were clamouring for their turns to whip them, little Lucky one of the first in line. Only those too young to pledge could take part. They flailed away eagerly but for the most part ineffectually at the pledges who put on a show of bravado for their benefit. The light weals they left, dozens on each pledge, were showy but did little damage.

Danny Boy finally found me and I ran with him up to the Bamboo Grove to fulfil my promise. Danny Boy quickly stripped and stood there hands on his hips, "What you like? You get ten, hit hard, I practise to be pledge next year." Inspired by the sanguine ceremonies at the longhouse and his innocent charm I was determined to inflict the most challenging test I could within the modest limits of the rules. I examined his lithe body for its softest, most sensitive places - the rib cage beneath his armpits, the insides of his thighs and settled on his downy pubes. I asked him to lie on his back so I could get the most power out of the light instruments allowed. Using a short narrow strap I began slamming him just above his floppy little snake. He was obviously hurting badly but tried to look brave. He started to pee involuntarily and I tried to increase the force of my blows. But I knew more in the same place might leave rather nasty bruises so for the last four strokes I switched to his thinly fleshed ribs making sure I caught his teeny nipples with each blow. He squealed once but held back his sobs admirably. "You hurt me best ever." he complimented me. My generosity cheered him up instantly. We stopped briefly at my hut where he blew me and I sucked him silly several times. He asked me if I'd come back and sponsor him as a pledge, Jojo had told him all about me. But youngsters there are very free with such requests and I made no promises.

A strong wind was blowing as I walked up to the longhouse for the confirmation ceremonies where the new pledges and whiplings would receive their colours and be decked with flowers. The new pledges solemnly entered carrying torches, the bonfire burst into flames but gusts caught the smoke swirling it around creating a hazy mysterious effect. Jojo came and plopped himself on my lap. Chi's slender body only lightly marked by the youngsters' clumsy blows was now ravaged with weeping welts and purpling bruises more extensive than a new whipling's. His pretty cock had suffered more than its share and his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from frantic struggles or some stretching as on a rack, but worst of all was his expressionless face looking blankly ahead. I wondered who Mr. Randolph was. Jojo was shocked, "That much too much, not right. Boys make sponsor stop. I like to kill." Thus spoke the boy I love to torture in the most excruciating ways.

When the new whiplings entered I saw Sammy had more colour in his face and flesh and his worst cuts had been closed with tape to heal. He proudly performed his dance around the fire and after, hibiscus in his hair and draped in his new red cloak he joined us briefly. I paid him his share and a bit more and he went to rest again. He'd see us later at my hut.

Jojo's caning was overdue. As we walked back to my hut I studied his thighs, his lovely, sensuous yet sturdy thighs, his growing muscles working beneath the smooth clear skin I'd pinkened earlier for the occasion. Little Lucky who was becoming a nuisance was waiting on the porch. I hesitated but let him in and he helped me tie Jojo face down on the bed through the hooks thoughtfully provided for such purposes. We stretched him tight and Lucky poured oil on his legs and rubbed it around so the blows would sting more. I chose a wicked bamboo slat cane and crouching by Jojo's feet I began smacking him parallel to his limbs the cane making loud splatting sounds as it connected. I kept the blows moderate and evenly distributed as I didn't want to bruise him deeply. Lucky poured on more oil and I let him have a turn as Jojo sucked me the best he could in that position. Lucky was a fast learner and when the backs of Jojo's thighs were done to my satisfaction I let Lucky fuck him for a while. It was clumsily amusing for me but Jojo resented it. We retied Jojo on his back, feet on the floor and a pillow under his head so he could watch the fronts being warmed by the cane. Lucky was very generous with the oil and when I started caning he started jacking Jojo who became almost instantly erect. I had intended a somewhat more severe caning but when Lucky switched to sucking on Jojo's oil slicked shaft and I saw him coming in the child's mouth I changed my mind, torture should end at orgasm. I untied Jojo and while Lucky poured the rest of the oil on us and smeared it around I screwed his slippery ass vigorously with short intermissions to make it last longer. Then I winked at Jojo. We stripped the little boy, dumped the rest of the oil on him and frigged and goosed him unmercifully as he giggled, squirmed and squealed. After a playful interlude in the shower we set off for dinner at the longhouse.

I'd planned a small get-together later and wanted to invite a couple of boys for our evenings entertainment. As we approached the Mango Tree Tan and Jean called out to me. "I think you forget." Jean pouted. I assured them I hadn't. "Me first." Tan insisted. I agreed and Jean helped me tie his wrists to his ankles and suspend him from a branch so he'd swing, the stretched skin of his ass inviting the long strap. Jojo gave him a little push to start and with good timing I got him swinging more as I laid on long heavy strokes. It was wholesome paingiving fun and I enjoyed the added advantage of seeing Tan's expression as the strap loudly connected. The two dozen stroke ordeal left his ass brilliant and him whimpering but no more than he expected from his brief stint. A cutling once told me that being beaten once a month beats working every day. I took Tan to a fuck hut and blew him gently, saving myself although I must say his bright swelling globes were tempting. "Now me." Jean demanded. I suggested he might be better abused later at my hut, both could come, and he liked the idea.

Dinner, a choice of roast pig or goat, was served by handsome whiplings with formal waiters attire painted on their naked bodies. The pork was excellent but the vegetables were overcooked although both Jojo and Lucky said they liked them that way. Bob came in with a recently welted cutling in each arm and broad smiles on all their faces. Rene and Willy, the boy he would be cutting a few steps behind. Bob greeted me effusively, I had to admire the cutlings' welts. "My technique is sure improving." Bob boasted, "And you should see Rene's back, I got him bleeding with the first dozen. But young Jojo, it looks like you've barely started." I explained I'd had my pleasures with his hide, showed Bob his glowing thighs and mentioned I'd be getting around to his back and chest later. I invited Bob, Rene and Willy to drop by my hut later. After dinner we went to the Bamboo Grove to find a young boy. I rather liked an eleven year old Vietnamese with beautiful eyes but a ponytailed American got him first. The lad bent over, grabbed his ankles and was able to suck on his own knob as the American belted his buttocks. I'd almost decided on a younger Afroasian when Lucky shouted, "Ky!" and pointed to the boy instructor at the practice game. He was more than willing to be flogged at my hut. I whipped the Afroasian anyway, sent Jojo and Lucky to pick up some snacks and refreshments at the longhouse and returned to my hut.

I laid out various instruments of torture for the evening's festivities and placed a cassette in the deck, golden oldies from the 60's for a start. Jojo and Lucky returned from their errand and I sent them out again to get banana leaves for plates. Jean and Tan arrived, the latter choosing not to sit down, and then all four boys arranged the goodies in pretty patterns on the leaves. I explained to Jean that he'd be our main whipping boy that evening and had the others tie his hands up to a beam in the centre of the room but leaving most of his weight on his feet so he wouldn't get uncomfortable waiting for his whippings. I made Lucky the official whipkeeper and counter of blows.

Bob arrived with Rene and Willy a few minutes later. "What have we here?" Bob inquired seeing Jean strung up. Lucky showed him the assortment of instruments. "How very thoughtful." he ruffled the child's hair. "Hmmm," he finally selected a short heavy whip and gave Jean a couple of hard slamming strokes across his chest checking the results, "A nicely balanced instrument and quite effective too I see." Rene chose a longer lash and after a few teasing slithery coilings around the boy's thighs gave him two nasty snapping blows on the belly one of which drew a spot of blood. Bob had to try the lash but was not as proficient. Willy declined for the time being. Jojo served beer and juice as Bob and I sat down and talked. Tan held a glass so Jean could drink. We couldn't agree on how much difference oil made and to settle the dispute we caned one of Jean's thighs dry and the other oiled. I thought the difference would have been greater although Jean confirmed that oiling made it hurt more. Jojo wanted a turn. I told him he'd already had two treats today and explained that Jean was for our guests. Jojo sulked for a minute but when worked out a deal with Jean whereby he could play with my pins and hooks. This also seemed to fascinate Willy who'd been adorned with the beaded hooks through his flesh earlier. Both lads cheerfully amused themselves for some time piercing Jean's foreskin and nipples.

Sammy arrived, his movements were returning to normal and he seemed in good spirits. Lucky insisted he take off his cloak so he could look at his cuts. The curious Lucky was impressed all the while frigging himself. Sammy caned Jean's ass few times, not in his best form I'm sure, and graciously accepted my offer to screw him, his enormous rod impressing Bob. It also impressed Jean who got a hardon immediately. I brought out some Swiss chocolate I'd been saving for the occasion while Lucky removed Jeans hooks and pins. Then Tan fed his buddy chunks of chocolate while Lucky sucked him and Sammy standing behind fucked him. He enjoyed all the attention. Bob and I fucked him next and when it was Rene's turn Bob experimented with the longer lash snapping it into the soft skin of Jean's ribs and belly getting a small trickle going. Lucky announced the count was nineteen. Jojo was looking bored so I had him chin himself from the beam while I used a light stinging whip across his back. I let him rest before Tan and Rene had brief turns stinging his struggling back and shoulder muscles leaving his hide finely patterned with thin weals. As his contribution Bob hung Rene by his ankles and we beat the soles of his feet. Rene was just starting to squirm from his torment when Ky arrived. Bob let the youngster try his hand before suffering Rene was untied. Lucky was excited to see Ky, hugged him babbling about all the whippings he'd been watching and showing him his rigid twig. Jean was getting tired and I planned to serve refreshments soon so Bob and I completed his two dozen smacking him across his stomach muscles with a cane, they knocked the wind out of him. He said he was hungry more than anything else.

I put another cassette in the deck, some Beethoven, as the boys served the food and drinks. While Bob and I relaxed over beers I had Ky strip and pose in front of us. We could only have ten strokes but it was deliciously soft and tender boyflesh. Bob was saying he'd like to try a belt across the youngster's chest when Ky interrupted, "You like do hands, feet extra? no show, no count." I complimented Ky on his smart thinking and Bob and I strapped his small palms and fingers while we discussed what else to do to the boy. Lucky watched, his eyes full of admiration, as we gave four on each hand. "I try too?" he said holding out his tiny hands. It would have to be Ky as the rest of us were to old to spank boys too young for the Bamboo Grove. Three on each with a light strap calmed him down but he insisted on showing everyone his pinkened palms after. We decided to let those who wanted to, screw Ky's narrow ass before his main ordeal of the evening. Willy was particularly enthusiastic, he wouldn't be fucking for a while after his circumcision, and didn't stop after his first violent orgasm but kept on ramming and ramming squeezing the youngsters shoulders, digging his fingers, in, "More tight, more better." he called out before his last frenzied thrusts. "I like beat boy too." Rene, Jojo and Bob followed in quick succession all amazed at Ky's amazing control of his ass muscles. Then Willy mounted him again, slapping his ass first, and digging in his nails when he came for the third time. Bob asked if he were saving anything for him. Willy replied, "You not to worry."

Little Ky was not fazed by the multiple assaults and smiled confidently as he lay back on the bed for his whipping. Bob slammed the strap down on his chest six times causing him to gasp but his smile returned after each blow. Broad welts formed across his ribs and nipples but Ky appeared unconcerned. Willy was offered the final four. He took a heavier cane than he should have used on an unpledged boy and slammed it into the smug lads buttocks six times, two over the limit, but he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Ky hopped off the bed, prick proud and grinning, and made a show of thanking his tormentors. Lucky basking in this mentor's bravado insisted that he give him four smacks on his puny behind. Ky smacked him perhaps a bit harder than he could handle, I was glad to see it, and the child busied himself so we couldn't see his tears.

We all relaxed listening to the music for a while. "You know," Bob confided, "young boys are fun. I wouldn't mind sponsoring Ky as a pledge next year." It was my turn to smile smugly. After finishing the leftovers the boys and our guests left. I sent Lucky home. I wanted to be alone with Jojo for the intimate torture I'd planned for him.

"You mean my..." Jojo looked a bit scared as I'd hoped. I nodded and explained that his balls were very personal sexual, and delightfully sensitive things to torture, he would be putting his very masculinity on the line, but I didn't expect him to understand my arguments. He sulked but removed his shorts and lay back on the bed. Boys should never be tied up or restrained when you torment their testicles, excuse the moralizing, and it is something that must be done with great care to exploit the organs' bounteous potential for pain without causing injury. One secret is to keep the pressure even when you squeeze them, and it's best to do one in each hand if you can. I watched Jojo's face noting the signs of the awesome agony building up as I squeezed with gradually increasing pressure. What a delight, flesh to flesh, my grip controlling his anguish directly. And it's such a dull, heavy threatening type of pain. Soon he couldn't control his shudders and writhings as I squeezed. I was patient, allowing time for his little glands to swell and become much more sensitive to pain. I was impressed and pleased by Jojo's fortitude although he didn't seem very happy. After some time the slightest squeeze would send throbbing pangs of sheer agony convulsing through his body. I was able to soothingly stroke his head with one hand while I tortured the boyness of his being with the other. I drew his nuts out to the end of their sac almost gently, causing him to grimace, I began flicking them smartly with my index finger and I watched Jojo bite into his arm to keep himself under control. I'd had my jollies. My affection for him erupted in an orgy of kissing and licking. Jojo, the spunky kid and genius he is spat in my face. The concept of punishment dashed through my mind where it's not usually allowed. I told him I'd had a great time and suggested we go for a walk. But he was crumbling, his anger couldn't sustain him through the demanding pain affecting all of him, he broke down, a mixture of sobs and moans. It's a torture that should be used very sparingly on growing boys and I waited until he was at least civil again.

The sky had cleared and stars sparkled and the jungle was full of night sounds. We proceeded slowly as walking made his balls ache even more. Near the river we found a good place to sit and watched fireflies compete with the stars. Back at my hut he expected me to fuck him and I did. I proceeded very leisurely noticing that Jojo's clever intestinal muscles were unusually passive, maybe something to do with the testes I'd tenderized, but then I found the cock pronged hard. I called him a slut with a widely understood Malay term for the word. Jojo laughed and squeezed me off in seconds. I reverently blew him, sucking out the last drop of the mighty boy's come. I fell into a blissful sleep.

I awoke and when I was ready I began taking my liberties with Jojo's sweet sleeping boyness now liberally patterned, ornamented, with thin, red, raised welts and larger bruisings. I waited until he'd woken up before I pinched and twisted his nipples and then, as the swelling had disappeared, his rubbery foreskin. He did fuck me nicely but told me I couldn't blow him til after he'd watched the circumcisions. The nerve. But then the boys of Dar Lan can always say no. On our way up to breakfast we stopped at the Bamboo Grove so Jojo could have a treat. The child ended up crying to Jojo's delight.

The circumcisions are a very popular event and the longhouse was crowded. All the boys to be cut were seated at the tables with their sponsors except for Bob. We sat down beside Willy who was only having juice and coffee that morning. He seemed rather pensive, "I go Bangkok soon, make business with uncle." his foreskin would provide far more than his fare. Bob dashed in late, all apologies. He'd stopped at the Mango Tree just to look but had stayed to flog three boys the last of whom was so beautiful he'd had to take him to a fuck hut.

Breakfast over we followed the tall, well hung Chinese boy and his German sponsor out behind the longhouse. The crowd hadn't finished gathering around when the sponsor took a straight razor, pulled out the skin as far as he could and simply sliced it off. The German seemed mainly interested in the size of his trophy. Farther on we watched a Vietnamese lad circumcise himself with a ceremonial sword to the applause of his Japanese sponsor. One boy, the well endowed scrawny Afroasian was cut in private, an unusual event which Jojo explained, "Sponsor want to fuck boy same time he cut. Pay extra because tourists not see."

The barely pubescent, small peckered Kymer boy, Mickey whom I'd noticed at the ceremonies was next. He stood on a rocky ledge about three feet high his arms outstretched each hand held by a pretty naked child about eight. They seemed pleased to be taking part in Mickey's circumcision and beamed at the growing crowd. Mickey attempted a few nervous smiles as the Swiss sponsor began sucking on his tiny prick only getting it stiff after a minute of vigorous effort. Then the man started biting the foreskin, pulling it out with his teeth and chewing on the end. He continued biting and chewing slowly drawing out the torment. Mickey's face paled, his hands squeezing those of his young buddies and perspiration dripped from his diminutive body. Blood flowed freely as the skin was mangled and shredded, the Swiss sucking it clean from time to time so we could observe the progress of the operation before blood obscured our view. The small boy was becoming overwhelmed by his prolonged ordeal and an older buddy came and stood behind him, hugging around the chest to steady him. After maybe ten minutes the man succeeded in severing the last shreds attaching the skin to Mickey's penis. The Swiss proudly showed us a tiny pulpy lump on his tongue before swallowing it. Mickey slumped to the ground and the older buddy washed him down and trimmed off some ragged edges with nail clippers. Jojo, who'd been frigging himself most of the time looked up at me, "More better with big cock more blood .... and more to eat." "Like yours?" I commented flicking the bulge in his shorts.

The place set aside for the traditional Ullongi style rite was on a small knoll shaded by tall acacias. A flat black stone was secured atop a stump at crotch height. The crowd murmured as Willy's buddy brought out an ancient snakeskin sheath and reverently removed the old stone bladed knife, holding it high, facing all four directions before presenting it to Bob. It was a work of art, the ivory handle inscribed with symbols the meaning of which had been lost I was told. But the blade of dark obsidian, once finely flaked to more than a razor's sharpness, was worn smooth for most of its length. I now understood why boys demanded such a price to have it used on them. Willy undid his red loincloth dropping it to the ground, stepped up to the stump and placed his swelling cock on the black stone slab. Bob pinched the end of the skin between thumbnail and finger stretching it with much of his strength as Willy held his precious glans back. Bob slowly and experimentally at first started slicing at the skin but its rubbery texture caused it to roll rather than yield. He pressed harder using sawing motions that ground through rather than cut the flesh. Willy, or Hweng as he preferred, stood erect his eyes gazing into the distance. Jojo stared intensely, frigging himself as many other boys were, as blood oozed from the end of Willy's hard trembling cock making it difficult for Bob to see. The sawing, grinding seemed to take longer than it did and as the last shreds were severed his cock pulsed, translucent gobs of semen intermingling with the blood. Bob was ecstatic, held up the bloody prepuce for all to see and embraced Willy gratefully. Willy, so stoical during the ordeal, was now exhausted and drained and had to be supported as his cock was retrimmed with a sharp blade and bandaged. Jojo gave me a naughty glance and I noticed the front of his shorts were spotted with his own semen. So that was why he wouldn't let me blow him earlier. I took Jojo back to my hut, mildly tormented his nipples and foreskin, which he almost seemed to enjoy before I sucked and fucked him.

Jojo left to spend some time with his friends and arrange to have the exercise weights delivered to my hut. I would be leaving next morning and decided on one last look around, by myself this time. Near the mouth of the river I came across several boys all well marked from their sundry beatings swimming and splashing merrily. Some no doubt were avoiding the stinging salt of the sea. I saw Danny Boy, he waved to me, splashed ashore and introduced me to others as a "Good friend". The boys offered me a Coke and what I can only describe as imitation Cheezies, I politely accepted the bounty of their painfully earned cash. The first boy I'd flogged at the Mango Tree, the delicately featured, long haired, Amerasian whipling came up to me. "You like sex me?" His long skinny pecker jiggled horizontal in front of my eyes backed by the complex pattern of darkening welts my whip had worked into his loins. Jojo's jealousy had deterred me before but now I followed him to a secluded glade nearby in the jungle. I was still enjoying the taste of his fresh sucked juice when a buddy of his appeared pleading, "Me too." I blew him and three more, each receiving more than a token of my gratitude before I said 'enough'. I didn't want to spoil my appetite for dinner.

On the beach past the spit where the river meets the sea I came across Simon, Chi draped in a loose white cloak of a pledgling at his side. I remarked on how ravaged his body had been at the confirmation ceremony. Simon agreed, "The sponsor was over eager and naive but my nephew was too greedy and brave for his own good. He is wiser now." The boy smiled up at me.

Farther on where a low bank bordered the beach I heard a boy's voice and I silently approached to look, to spy. A cutling and a pledgling, each apparently abused to their respective limits were clutched in a passionate embrace. I could not understand their words, but the sweetness and tenderness of their meaning was obvious from their loving caresses. There was no sex but an evident pleasure of being with and touching each other. I stole away as silently as I came.

I sat half hidden by thorn bushes at the back of the beach and watched the gently breaking surf. Boys walked by in twos and threes, sometimes more, arms around each other, talking, joking amongst themselves. This was their Friday, they had a month to heal and rest before they worked again. As the sun sank low they clustered around beach fires and I heard guitars and their voices singing songs from bygone years.

I was enjoying my entree of a generous tuna steak served baked in a sauce rich in ginger and spices when Jojo came in. He ordered the same and ate hungrily. I reminded him I was having his flesh medium rare for my dessert but he didn't look up from his plate. He was still chewing his last mouthful when he announced, "We go now."

The set of weights had been left on the porch and I had Jojo set them up across the room from the large wall mirror. I knew the intensely curious lad would want to watch his last torment, the finale so to speak. I explained what I wanted and he would receive a whipling's measure, two dozen strokes of the lash across his still unwelted front. He began working out with the lighter weights in the clammy heat, a workout he didn't need. Distant thunder announced an approaching storm. Next; twelve lifts of heavier weights, more than half his own. His muscles strained but he raised it over his head with classic form. "I look good, eh?" I waited whip in hand. On his second lift as he pushed the bar above his chin I lashed out across the labouring, hard flexed muscles of his chest, a long red weal rising in the leathers wake. With each lift I lashed him once, twice or more, searing horizontal lines into his struggling flesh. Still well within his limits he observed his mirror image but had to concentrate more and more. Halfway through the double ordeal of whip and weights blood began to diffuse into the sweat glistening on his chest and belly. He looked magnificent, heroic in a way. I continued to work on him, his lifts became more laborious and the lash more cruel. The thunder was closer now and gradually his grit was eroding. He had two lifts and I five lashings left. His boyish face desperately determined, he tried once more to lift the barbell from the floor. He got it part way up, I slashed him across his pubes, he pressed on but his strength failed him and he let it down. He stood there panting, dripping, arms dangling at his side. As he stopped his exertions the full sensation of the pain rushed in on him. His normally cheerful face was contorted with despair and agony at the outer edge of his endurance. He had four strokes left and I lashed his half limp form with all my strength. His physical resources had been consumed, only his proud boy spirit kept him from pleading and collapse. He sobbed freely when it was over as the rain raged drumming on the roof.

I stood behind Jojo facing the mirror stroking the raw ridged flesh of his front sticky with blood and sweat. In the mirror his trembling body looked glazed, his still burning welts making an angry striped design. Only the lovely mounds of his compact bum were unmarked now - I would leave them that way. Slowly, almost lazily I began to fuck him once more. I tried to prolong it but the evening had honed my lust and I soon came, came gloriously in the spunky boy's butt. I took him to the bed hugging and cuddling his sticky boy form. I caressed his hair, licked the sweat from his forehead, and my tongue cleaned his tear streaked cheeks and around his melancholy eyes. I kissed him, and kissed him again, and the lips of that amazing boy pressed back against mine. And his boycock, I'd nicked it nicely once, became aroused at my approach. A few little licks and then I blew him quickly as it was sore. And I digested the manna of his come.

We showered off and rested for a while listening to the rain as we examined every mark and welt his body bore and I explained the pleasure I had gained from things that made him sore. Then in my gentlest fashion I blew him once again.

Jojo was still quite uncomfortable in the morning hunching over to ease the pain on his black and blue breast. I pinched his tender nipples gently, and I made him sit and walk upright, shoulders back. By the time we reached the longhouse for breakfast he was walking proudly again. I had little time left when we got back to my hut, the chartered plane was due. Jojo asked me to fuck him once more, "A nice one this time." He yanked off his shorts and leapt on my lap, and we talked and kissed. And oh how warm and alive and slippery he felt. And for the longest time I let him do all the work, bouncing, bouncing on me. And I kissed and caressed him desperately, passion beyond the satiation of my lust. I love Jojo dearly of course, but I love to torture him more. We both cried when I had to leave.

Bob was walking with a shuffling gait when I met him where the plane was moored. I asked if anything was the matter. "No, no, everything's fine, it's just that I had myself circumcised a couple of hours ago." He showed me the ring of skin. "Hweng cut me with Rene assisting. I didn't get to come, but it was close."