False Hope
As Kirk approached Shane’s limp dick with gleeful anticipation, the door to the examination room swung open. Shane’s head turned to see a tall overweight bespectacled man dressed smartly in a suit. He felt a warm feeling of relief wash over him, his torture was going to be stopped.
He spoke in what Shane would describe as a “posh old twat” tone “Kirk, I’ve been watching the monitor and this seems like a special case, I will take it from here”. Kirk couldn’t hide the disappointment from his face - he had been so close but he managed to squeeze out the right words to his boss “of course professor”. He left the room slowly, turning at the door for one last glimpse of the impressive boy before pulling it closed behind him.
Shane had started to fear his initial hope was misplaced, but surely this man couldn’t be the same. The professor approached, removing Shane’s sock gag. “Shane, I’m the Head of the CCSD… professor Merton but you can address me as Sir or Professor”.
Shane felt a chill at the way he said that, and the grin he punctuated it with. “Please let me go” he pleaded, somewhat futilely. The professor sighed whilst turning toward the table “but Shane you see it’s the law, you need…” he unzipped the bag with Shane’s sock inside which Kirk had sequestered, holding it to his nose and inhaling the moistness of the teens scent. “… reeducation”. He didn’t hear Shane’s protests, he was busy in a euphoric high of the sweaty Nike sock.
He opened a draw and approached Shane from the base of the bed. Despite straining his neck Shane could not see what he had picked up. The old perv sat on a stool directly next to the spreadeagle stud.
“I think given the severity of your case we shall break convention” he said imposingly. “I will deal with the sample personally, I’ll see that you are brought to my study”. Pausing only to brush some sock fluff from between Shane’s perfect toes and stick his big nose between them.
“Ey im staying here? What?” Shane screamed. “For the foreseeable, boy!” The wicked professor replied. He took the sock gag and again shoved it in the scally twinks mouth. “I need you to listen now boy, I’m going to explain the way things work here”.
“This is your ankle tag” he said strapping a rubber bracelet with a box on one side around Shane’s slender white ankle. “It allows us to track you at all times, if you are good enough to be allowed to leave”. Shane had been on tag before for shoplifting as a teen so he knew the deal there.
The Proff continued. “You will obey any order given by your ‘educators’ and if you don’t there are certain ‘disciplinary’ procedures” Shane couldn’t believe it, his tone changed in such a way he might as well have done air-quotes at educators and disciplinary.
The Prof approached his charge again, holding a small metal cage and some rubber thing. “Since you have not given your seamen sample yet, you must wear this cock cage… I know what you virile lads are like”. Shane attempted to move and protest but it was no good the tight and cold metal cage was snapped around his thick manhood.
The prof held up the rubber device, and since you protested so much this buttplug will be a punishment until you see me tonight. “Oh darn” he exclaimed theatrically, “I’ve not brought any lube”. Shane writhed imagining his hole being assaulted without any assistance. “You needn’t worry, boy. I’ve had an excellent idea, I shall christen your delicious soles with my seed, and we can use that” - he laughed, unzipping his trousers to reveal a matted chode of a dick, as hard as a nail - as it had been since he set eyes on his prey.
