Martin's Story by Britguy

[Britguy]

Martin’s Story

First Published 22/4/2012

MARTIN’S STORY

I’ve been enjoying the stories on this site [i.e. the old Webapps site] for some time now and been meaning to write one of my own as payment, so to speak, but never got around to it until now. I wish I had done this sooner because I really enjoyed the process of writing it and I’ll certainly be writing more. If anyone likes this first one I may post more here.

The setting for this story is a smallish English town of about eight or ten thousand people sometime around 1980 give or take a year or two. This town has one secondary school, a “comprehensive” which takes all children from 11 to 16 or 18 unless their parents educate them privately. Some readers may find the description of the “demountables” hard to believe but this is an exact description of some of the classrooms at the school I attended and fairly typical of a lot of permanent “temporary” structures in 1970s Britain. They were still there in the mid ‘80s and may still be for all I know.

In the real world there would be non-stop swearing from a group of teenagers like these but endless F words are even more boring to write than they are to read so I haven’t bothered with swear words at all except where essential. Anything I think readers outside the UK might not necessarily understand is explained in square brackets, I hope I haven’t missed anything.

There is almost no physical violence in my story and nothing that isn’t in other stories here in one form or another so I’m confident that I’m not breaking the site guidelines but caution is recommended for parts two and three which are very degrading for the victim.

Enjoy!

Britguy.

MARTIN’S STORY PART ONE – THE OVERTURE

“O.K. that’s it for today” said Mrs Steadman, addressing her class of fifth years [15 – 16 year olds], “Now, is there anyone who doesn’t have a partner for the homework?”

Two hands were raised; Martin Walsh and Darren Baker.

“Ah yes, you were both off yesterday weren’t you? Well, you can be partners on this. Stay behind a minute and I’ll give you the assignment.”

Martin’s heart sank at this. A quiet, studious boy the last thing he wanted to do was work with Baker, a notorious bully and none too bright. To make things worse, the previous week Baker had falsely accused Martin of reporting him for smoking and he wasn’t sure his denials had been believed.

The school they attended had several “temporary” classrooms, known as demountables, built along one edge of the yard. These were like portakabins only bigger and each contained two classrooms with a hallway and storage cupboards in between. The classroom floors were about three feet [1 metre] above ground level and access was gained via steps built between the back of the demountable and the fence. Returning from an errand Martin had mounted these steps and seen Baker, who had obviously climbed over the safety fence at the top of the steps, crouching in the space between the building and the fence enjoying a crafty cigarette.

“You haven’t seen me, alright?” Baker had hissed.

“Fine by me. If you want cancer it’s your problem!” Martin had whispered back, privately thinking that the quicker the Darren Bakers of this world kill themselves off the better for everyone. He had gone back to his class and thought no more about it.

But the idiot had somehow got himself caught anyway, which resulted in a caning, the loss of most of a pack of twenty, and the false accusation. Martin did not know or care who reported Baker, he just knew it wasn’t him.

Martin surmised that he’d be doing all the work for half the credit, at best, but there was no choice; everyone else already had partners.

After they had collected the assignment Baker turned to Martin and said “Wait for me after school and we’ll go back to mine and get this homework done.”

Seeing the look that crossed Martin’s face he added “Don’t worry, I’m not going to batter you when I need you to help me with the work. Anyway my Mum’ll be there. It just makes sense because my place is almost on your way home, but yours is miles further out.”

This was true. The Bakers lived on a council estate [social housing built by local government for the poor] near the school while the Walsh house was right on the edge of town, a mile [1.6 km] or so further away. Martin was so surprised that Baker was interested in doing the homework that he found himself agreeing to this. Misgivings about going into this part of town were quelled by the thought that Baker would be with him and Baker needed him for the homework. It didn’t occur to him to wonder what would happen when the work was done and Baker didn’t need him anymore until too late.

Walking to the next lesson with two of his three best friends, Colin Turner and Dave Mitchell, Darren had to endure a ribbing about “working with posh boy” and “getting above yourself”.

“Yeah, I’ve got to work with him” conceded Darren, “but we can play with him afterwards. Me Dad’s on Late Turn [a work shift from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m.] this week and Mum does a shift at the Pub [public house i.e. Bar] Tuesday nights. Come round mine about six, she’ll be gone by then. Bring Alex and the gang.”

Alex Porter was Darren’s other close friend who lived in the same road. Being somewhat more intelligent than the other three he was attending a different class. He was also rather more likeable and human than the others if you could get him on his own but when with the gang he tended to fit in.

“What’s he done to you then?” asked Colin, surprised at the venom in his friend’s voice, “He seems pretty harmless to me.”

“He stitched me up last week. Told Mr Grayson I was smoking. It must have been him, nobody else saw me, then he goes in and a minute later Grayson comes storming out. I owe him one!”

“Going to teach him a lesson of your own are you Darren? “asked Dave with a knowing leer.

“Yeah, but I promised the little git I won’t batter him and it’d be fun to punish him without breaking the promise.”

“So what’re you going to do then?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll shave his eyebrows or something. I’ll drag the work out and keep him there until Mum’s gone then you lot come round and we’ll see what we can think of.”

The boys went contentedly into their next class looking forward to a fun evening.

School finished at 4 p.m. and after a few minutes’ walk the two reluctant partners reached the Baker house. This house was built to a fairly simple design with a hallway and living room at the front of the house, a big kitchen/diner across the whole width of the back and bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. Second from the left in a terrace of four it had neighbours built onto each side. A lot (though not all) of British council housing is well-built and spacious and this house was no exception.

The homework was done on the kitchen table while Mrs Baker worked her way through a huge pile of ironing in the corner. It took a bit over an hour and was finished by 5:30. It could have been done in half the time but for some reason beyond Martin’s comprehension Baker the Bully had suddenly turned into Darren the Discursive; garrulous, friendly and constantly stopping to talk about irrelevancies. After the work was done Darren insisted on making them both coffee, deliberately making it as hot as possible. Reassured by Darren’s friendly attitude and also by the presence of Mrs Baker Martin followed Darren into the living room where his 13 year old brother Kevin and three of his mates, Danny, Paul and Steve were watching television.

This room was quite large at about 18 feet wide by twelve feet deep [5.5 x 3.6m] with a window to the front in one of the long walls and a door to the hallway in the middle of the short wall on the left if you had your back to the window. It was quite sparsely furnished however, with a lot of empty space near the door. Almost all of the furniture was two sofas at right angles to each other in the corner opposite the door and a large TV set positioned across the room from them to be easily watchable from both sofas. Kevin’s three friends were sitting on the sofa with its back to the window while Kevin himself sprawled in the corner of the other one at the end nearest his mates.

Martin sat at the other end of the sofa from Kevin, sipping at his scalding coffee, while Darren stood near the door drinking his, and watching the TV. After a few minutes Mrs Baker stuck her head round the door.

“I’m off to work now boys, there’s plenty in the freezer for your tea [evening meal] when you want it. Be good for your father and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’d better get going now too,” said Martin, “I want to be home by six.”

“Well at least finish your coffee now I’ve made it for you.” said Darren, “There’s plenty of time yet. See you later Mum.”

After a few more minutes Martin managed to drink the coffee without scalding his mouth too badly and once again made to leave. Darren smiled and extended his hand as if for a handshake but when Martin took it he was suddenly pushed violently over backwards, and found himself lying on his back on the floor with Darren sat on his chest, knees on his shoulders, hands holding his wrists to the carpet above his head.

“Gotcha!” grunted Darren, but it wasn’t yet a quarter to six and he didn’t fancy remaining in this position for however long it took his friends to get there.

Suddenly inspiration dawned and he figured out a way to keep his victim captive and at the same time punish him without physical damage. “Kev, do us a favour will you?” he called out.

“I’m watching this.” whined his brother, too absorbed in the TV to have noticed the brief scuffle across the room and without taking his eyes off the screen; “What do you want?”

“It won’t take you a minute,” said Darren calmly and casually, as if asking for the TV remote, “just get this tosser’s keks [underpants] off him for me.”

Suddenly the atmosphere was electric. Kevin’s face lit up with a mixture of sadistic relish and curiosity at the thought of stripping an older boy, all thoughts of TV instantly forgotten. His friends perked up and leaned forward on the sofa, not quite believing it but waiting to see what would happen. Kevin got up and started to walk towards Martin, who began thrashing his legs in horrified panic, desperately hoping to frighten the younger boy off. Kevin, however, was smart enough to steer clear of the legs and walked over to Martin at chest level; then he knelt behind his brother, legs either side of his victim’s torso, as if riding pillion on a motorbike, then shuffled backwards until his weight was on Martin’s thighs, preventing further resistance.

On realising that something was really going to happen Kevin’s mates got up from the sofa and stood close by where they could get a good view.

Martin felt fingers undoing his belt, then the buttons on his black school trousers, then the zip was undone and the trousers pulled open and his shirt tugged out, revealing the front of his dark blue Y-fronts.

“Lift your arse a minute Darren” requested Kevin, at which Darren leaned forward and did so, putting most of his weight painfully on Martin’s shoulders while Kevin pushed Martin’s shirt way up his chest out of the way. “That’ll do” said the younger boy and his brother returned his weight to Martin’s chest.

Now grinning like the Cheshire cat, Kevin hooked two fingers into the waistband of Martin’s underpants on each side and slowly shuffled backwards until his back was touching Martin’s feet and Martin’s clothing was below his knees. After pausing a moment to admire his handiwork he deftly turned around to leave himself still straddling Martin’s legs but now facing his feet and calmly pushed Martin’s pants all the way to his ankles then untied the shoelaces before completely removing his shoes, socks, trousers and underwear. This was all done at a slow and leisurely pace, because Kevin realised that while he was taking his time over this Martin was excruciatingly aware of the view his mates were enjoying. Then he stood up and looked down with great satisfaction at the boy pinned to the floor completely naked from the waist down and unable do anything about the four thirteen year olds studying his relatively mature sixteen year old genitals with open interest and relish.

In desperation Martin attempted to cover himself by crossing his legs but of course, this did not work and the sight of him squirming merely amused his tormentors even more. He thought that this humiliating debagging had to be the end of his troubles; what could they do to him worse than this? He was soon to find out.

[Britguy]

MARTIN’S STORY PART TWO – THE PERFORMANCE

“All right, you’ve had your fun now let me go will you, I’m going to be late.” spluttered Martin, crimson with embarrassment.

“Yeah, you are” agreed Darren. “Help me with his shirt Kev!”

The two brothers made short work of removing Martin’s shirt and tie, after which Kevin was instructed to put the clothes in Martin’s school bag and lock it in the garden shed. On his return Darren asked “Where’s the key to the shed?”

“Where it usually is” his brother replied.

“Good” said Darren, “I need to keep this tosser here till the gang get here and now I don’t need to hold him down. He’s not going anywhere naked!”

Kevin looked at Martin as his brother got up from on top of him and an evil smile appeared on his face. He said slyly “I’ve done a favour for you, now you can do one for me.”

“What favour?” asked Darren.

“You keep calling him a tosser. Make him do it! Make him jerk off for us! I want to see him come!”

“Maybe later, after the others get here.”

“No, now! Danny and Paul have to go home soon.” Clearly, having thought of it, Kevin was anxious not to let his friends miss out on this epic treat.

Darren turned to the three wide eyed youngsters standing and staring at Martin and asked “You want to see that? You want to see the phantom wanker shoot his load?”

A chorus of “Yeah!”, “Too Right!” and “Awesome!” answered this question. Darren thought for a moment then mused “well he needs to be punished for grassing me up [reporting him] and I promised not to batter him so I guess that’s as good as anything.”

He turned to Martin and ordered “O.K. Kid, sit down there and start stroking!”

At that moment the door bell rang. Darren glanced out of the window to see who it was. “Ah, the gang’s here” he said and disappeared into the hallway, returning with his usual sidekicks Colin, Alex and Dave and worse still four of the girls from school who lived on the estate Helen Jenkins, Brenda Gibbons, Jackie Parker and Elaine Goodman.

“We saw your Mum go off to work so we thought it’d be O.K. to come round” explained Colin as he led the others in; “So where’s the entertainment then? – Oh, wow!” he said as he came through the door into the living room and caught sight of Martin standing in the corner clasping his hands in front of his crotch “looks like you’ve started without us!”

Colin and Dave rushed over to Martin, grabbed an arm each and, holding his arms away from his body, dragged him over to meet the giggling girls. “He looks better with his clothes on!” remarked Helen derisively, staring intently at his formerly private parts.

“Master Bates here was just about to demonstrate his technique for us” explained Darren, “Let him go so he can get on with it.”

“No way!” protested Martin, “You can’t make me do that!”

“I’m not making you do anything” Darren replied, “It’s voluntary. You lay there and let Kevin strip you and now you’re going to volunteer for this because you’re in my house and if you don’t do what I tell you I’ll throw you out now and give you your stuff back at school tomorrow. Think about it.”

Martin thought about it. He thought about how much he wanted this to be over and to get the hell out of this house, off this estate, and most of all away from these people. He thought about the practicalities of getting home without his clothes. Apart from the hazards of broken glass and dog muck on the streets of this rough area he was certain to meet groups of teenagers of both sexes, maybe even the police. Even if he could get to the shed to retrieve his clothes it was locked, he didn’t know where the key was, and attempting to break into it would probably be noisy enough to attract attention. Being thrown out naked was unthinkable so he really was at Darren’s mercy and had no choice but to “volunteer” for the awful choice to avoid the impossible one. “All right” he mumbled “let’s get it over with.”

“O.K. let’s go!” said a delighted Darren, who hadn’t expected it to be quite that easy and was beginning to relish his absolute power over his naked victim “Sit down on that sofa and get started.”

The sofa he pointed to was the one under the window. Ordering Martin to sit on it left plenty of room for the twelve watchers to stand around and look down on him literally as well as metaphorically. Forcing himself to overcome extreme reluctance and in the desperate hope to get this over with he took his penis in his fingers and began to rub it. Due to his situation it proved very slow and difficult for him to become aroused, a situation not helped by intermittent ribald commentary from the older boys:

“Hey, nothing’s happening – super stud can’t even get it up!”

Pause.

“Hold on. Look, his nuts are tightening up!”

Pause.

“Yeah, it’s getting bigger! I think he’s looking at you Alex!”

“Nah, he’d of come by now if he was! I reckon he’s thinking about Darren in the showers!”

Pause.

“Whatever he’s thinking about now, it’s working! Look at him go! He’s loving it!”

Humiliatingly, this last comment was true. Perhaps due to some formerly unsuspected exhibitionist streak in his character Martin realised to his shame that he had never before been so sexually exited as he was now, stark naked and masturbating under duress to entertain a derisive audience. Overcoming his shyness to get started had been difficult; stopping now was inconceivable. It wasn’t long before he could feel the pressure building towards...

“STOP!” shouted Helen, “Stop him a minute.”

[Britguy]

MARTIN'S STORY PART THREE - THE FINALE

“STOP!” shouted Helen, “Stop him a minute.”

Colin and Alex moved to sit on the sofa either side of Martin and held his hands away from his body.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Darren.

“Nothing. I just want to measure him while he’s hard. Have you got a ruler?”

“Yeah, I think so. Hold on while I get it.”

While Darren went upstairs to fetch his ruler the rest of the group was treated for the first time to a completely unimpeded view of Martin sporting an almost painfully engorged erection, breathing heavily and squirming with a mixture of embarrassment and desire to finish what he’d started. Some of his tormentors were not as unmoved as they’d like to make out.

“I think young Danny’s going to faint if he gets any more exited” commented Brenda, laughing, “His eyes are on stalks!”

In fact Kevin and all three of his friends were thrilled by this unexpected combination of first class entertainment and an anatomy lesson about their future. Jackie had not said a word since she came in the door, nor taken her eyes off Martin’s body. Only the older boys were impassive; they had seen it all before, although not this particular boy.

“I’ve only got a six inch [15 cm] ruler” announced Darren as he came back into the room. He looked across at Martin before adding “but that should be more than enough” and handing it to Helen.

Helen walked over to the sofa and jammed the ruler against the base of Martin’s penis, then pushed the tip against the ruler with her fingers. “Three point nine inches [9.8 cm]” she announced “Never mind; you’re only sixteen, maybe you’ll grow up later.”

A few people closed in to look closely and verify the measurement, most notably Danny and Jackie, before Helen removed her fingers and then discovered to her delight that with one end of the ruler jammed into the base of Martin’s penis she could make it dance around by short bursts of pressure on the other end.

After a while Helen became bored with her sport and went back to where the other girls were standing.

“All right boys, let him go so he can finish his performance” said Darren.

The two boys got up from the sofa releasing Martin’s hands.

Driven almost demented by a frustrated desire to orgasm on top of all his other troubles Martin was by now past caring who saw what or what they thought about it. He wrapped his hand urgently around his shaft and pumped frenziedly until, very soon, he got to experience the most intense orgasm of his young life. Jet after jet of ejaculate shot into the air and rained back down, splattering his chest and stomach.

Martin was brought abruptly back to reality by the round of applause, jeers and catcalls from the assembled teenagers, and now began to fully comprehend what he had just done. He leaned back on the sofa gasping for breath and not even attempting to cover up as his erection subsided. What would be the point in modesty now?

Darren went out to the kitchen and returned shortly with a roll of kitchen paper which he tossed to Martin. “Here, clean yourself up with this” he said. “That’ll teach you to grass [inform] on me you bastard!”

“That was the best entertainment I’ve had in a long time” remarked Alex, “but what did he grass you for?”

“The little bastard grassed me up to Grayson last week for smoking and now it’s payback time!” replied his friend.

“Oh. My. God.” said Alex very slowly. “I don’t believe you sometimes Darren. You sit between a fence and a building puffing away on your fag [cigarette] and where do you think the smoke goes then Einstein? It rises. I was in Grayson’s class that day and we all saw the smoke drifting straight up past the windows. No wind that day, remember? Grayson came over to look at someone’s work and he saw it. Nobody told him. Walsh wasn’t even there. He was in the Mrs Chubb’s class in the next room. You’ve traumatised this poor sod for something he didn’t even do. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t go to the police.”

Darren had been looking increasingly crestfallen and embarrassed as this went on but this became mixed with defiance as he heard the last sentence. “Nah, that won’t happen” he sneered.

“And why not?”

“Well put it this way” said Darren, “If you’d just jerked yourself off in front of twelve people would you want to go to court and tell everyone about it? No? Neither will he!”

Alex glanced sympathetically at Martin, who had strategically covered himself with a couple of spare sheets of kitchen paper and was thinking that Alex’s concern for fairness was a bit late now, and said “Well, at least give him his clothes back. Where are they?”

“Kev locked them in the shed.”

“Well then Kev can go and get them back. NOW!” Alex walked upstairs and returned with a large towel. “Here, use this for now” he said, passing it to Martin.

Once reunited with his school bag Martin was allowed to change in the kitchen and then leave. As he opened the front door Darren emerged from the living room and said: “Look, I’m sorry ,alright? I made a mistake, that’s all. No hard feelings eh?” and extended his hand.

“F*** off!” said Martin with feeling as he turned and walked away.

The End

[TeenFan]

This isn't written as a typical SPH story (the tormentors didn't comment much about his size), so I was curious about choosing to have a 16 year
old have a penis less than four inches erect.

[Britguy]

This isn't written as a typical SPH story (the tormentors didn't comment much about his size), so I was curious about choosing to have a 16 year
old have a penis less than four inches erect.

It wasn't really meant to be an SPH story, perhaps late development. As Helen says “Three point nine inches [9.8 cm]” she announced “Never mind; you’re only sixteen, maybe you’ll grow up later.” I'm no expert but my own, somewhat hazy, memory is that sixteen year olds around 1980 were not yet fully mature.