Lecture Hall

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    Lecture Hall (for Ms DonnaS) by Ozryck


    The room was large and well lit, a wall of picture windows letting in the light of the school's extensive grounds. It was mostly empty, the well polished wooden floor bare, the walls adorned only by posters that listed the school's rules and exhorted the students to follow them scrupulously.

    At one end of the room was a wooden table on which was a tall antique metronome and several large bottles of oil. Behind the table was a wooden stool. A prefect stood behind the table, checking that everything was in order for the upcoming lecture by the Headmistress.

    The school's prefects were young women, slightly older than the students. They were chosen both for their appearance, which was universally lovely, and also for their philosophy of life, which was required to mirror the Headmistress's own in several particulars.

    This particular prefect was tall and blond, her skirt short to display long legs in sheer black stockings. Her uniform was crisp, her white blouse tight over her high breasts, and her high heels gleamed like black mirrors. The Headmistress insisted that the prefects were always exquisitely turned out.

    The door opened, and two more prefects led in the class. They, too, were very sexy girls and their uniforms were tailored to show their young bodies to their best advantage.

    The boys of the class, in contrast, wore only the thin cotton shorts that were their only uniform. Without needing instruction the boys arranged themselves in careful ranks facing the wooden table. They stood silently, ten abreast and four deep, spaced apart to fill the large space. At rest the boys kept their hands clasped behind them.

    One of the newly arrived prefects, a red haired girl whose blouse stained to contain her large full breasts, barked to the assembled boys, “Skin off! The Headmistress will be here soon.”

    At her command the boys quickly pulled down their shorts and held them in their left hands. With the shorts off the boy's genitals were revealed and also the locked metal cages affixed firmly around each young penis.

    As always the prefects grinned to see their charges' caged flesh. The boys were at the peak of their sexual desire, at an age where left to themselves they would masturbate daily, dreaming of girls like the prefects. These boys, however, were kept in a state of frustrated chastity, unable to release any of the sperm from their overheated and swollen testicles.

    It made them so docile and eager to please. These boys were being trained for a life of servitude to women, and total control over their sexual urges was but the first step. It was a step that provided so much entertainment for the prefects.

    The girls' own sexual urges they satisfied at will, by themselves or with each other or even, with special permission of the Headmistress, by using the boys. Not in any way that result in a boy's pleasure, of course, but the boys were also being trained to please women with their hands and mouths—anything except for those endlessly caged penises.

    While they waited for the Headmistress the prefects chatted, ignoring the silently standing boys. They talked of trips to the closest village, for shopping, for movies, dinners out and dancing—all things forbidden to the boys, who never left the campus.

    They sprang to attention, though, when the Headmistress's footsteps sounded outside the door to the hall.

    The Headmistress was tall, taller even than the first prefect. Her hair was also blond, but the prefect's curls hung loosely while the Headmistress kept her hair pulled tightly back. The Headmistress's skirt was leather and tight around her legs and sculpted flanks. Her blouse clung to the curves of her chest—although twice the age of the girls, her body was lush and sensual and she carried herself knowing that no man and few women could look away from her.
    In one black gloved hand she carried her cane—a springy wooden rod that she could use to devastating effect on anyone who displeased her, student or prefect. Her love of administering discipline was legendary.

    The headmistress took a seat on the stool without a word and then stretched out one long leg, pointing the toe of her polished black boot. Around her ankle was a thin metal chain, and from the chain dangled a tiny brass key.

    The red haired prefect quickly sank to her knees to carefully unfasten the chain and retrieve the key, pausing to plant a quick kiss on the Headmistress's boot. Then she straightened and walked to the rows of silently waiting boys.

    The tall blond prefect picked up a bottle and followed behind her. The redhead unlocked each boy's cage and pulled it free of his penis, which instantly sprang up. Then she placed the cage at the boy's feet and moved to the next. The blond poured a generous quantity of oil on each penis, smiling at the boys' gasps as they felt the cool oil coating their burning erections.
    The Headmistress watched and waited until the girls finished their work and returned to stand silently at the side of the room. Then she got to her feet and walked slowly around the table, enjoying the spectacle of forty erections, slick with oil and already twitching, above forty pairs of painfully full balls.

    She deliberately turned her back on the class to set the metronome. “Now, boys,” she said without turning around, and turned the metronome on.

    Each boy grasped the base of his aching penis tightly and stroked upwards towards the head. They watched the metronome and timed their slow stroke to its movement.


    Forty boys' hands reached the head of their penises.


    Forty hands tightly gripped the base of their penises.


    The head.


    The base.

    The boys stroked in unison, the pace of their masturbation set by the Headmistress. The metronome was cruelly slow, deliberately timed to prevent any chance of the boys' pleasure erupting into an ejaculation.

    The boys were forced to tease themselves, feeling their slick hands gripping so tightly and sliding so smoothly, but fighting the need to jerk themselves fast enough to fill each hand with a huge load of built up cum.

    The Headmistress turned, grinning to see her young charges under such rigid control. How long would they last, she wondered, if I reset the timer to as fast as they wanted to go? A half dozen fast strokes? Maybe a dozen? And then the floor would be covered with gallons of cum. She imagined the mess that would result from forty frustrated boys all pumping out their loads of sperm at once, and laughed.

    Never going to happen, boys. But I hope that you still dream of it. I'd hate to think I was denying something you'd forgotten how to want. Looking at the straining faces of the boys she knew that wasn't the case. They wanted to ejaculate, desperately, every single one of them.
    Good. That's how she liked them.






    Once the rhythm was firmly established by the boys' moving fists, the Headmistress walked slowly to the front row of boys.

    “Look at you,” she said softly, and laughed, long and low.

    “Nice and hard. Good boys stay hard all the time. It reminds you of your place.” She kept walking, matching the click of her bootheels to the metronome's relentless pace.

    “That's what those things are for, boys,” she continued, rounding the corner to walk between the first and second rows. “To make you suffer.”

    Another laugh. “They're attached to you, but they belong to me.”

    She paused to watch one boy. His legs were shaking with the effort of keeping his strokes slow and regular. He kept his face carefully forward, but the Headmistress knew that he couldn't help to be aware of her warm body so close to his, and how much harder that made it for him to hold back.

    She put her lips to his ear. “You want to cum, don't you?” she breathed.

    He whimpered in reply. “No, Headmistress,” he manged to choke out.

    “Oh, don't lie to me, boy,” she crooned, her face close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. “Admit it. You... want... to... cum!”

    “yes, Headmistress,” he sobbed, miserably.

    The Headmistress swung her cane in a whistling arc between the boy's legs, striking his slowly moving hand away from his throbbing penis.

    The boy bit back a cry.

    “Hands behind you!” the Headmistress ordered.

    The boy put his hands behind his back. His penis stuck straight out, dripping.

    She looked it over admiringly. “Now, that's a nice erection. So very hard. So ready to explode.”

    The boy blinked back tears, fear on his face.

    The Headmistress swung her cane again, hitting his shaft with deadly accuracy. This time the boy couldn't stifle his cry.

    She struck again, and again, and a fourth time. Then she paused to examine him. His penis was soft now, red from the blows. She smiled and lifted the limp member gently with the tip of her cane.

    “Back to work, boy,” she grinned down at him, and licked her lips.

    With a shaking hand the boy began stroking himself, gasping at the feel of his own hand on the bruised skin. Despite the pain, his penis quickly rose again.

    “Good boy,” the Headmistress cooed at him.

    She looked around her. The rest of the boys still stood looking straight ahead, their hands still pumping slowly back and forth. Their faces were strained with the tension of holding back, many of them with tears on their cheeks.

    The Headmistress resumed her leisurely walk.

    “It's really not difficult to understand,” she said. “Your penises don't exist for your pleasure, they exist for mine. My property, to do whatever I want with. They will be hard when I want them to be hard, and soft when I want them to be soft, and kept locked up tight so no nasty boys can drain any of my cum.”

    She stopped in front of another boy and tapped his wrist with her cane. Instantly he put his hand behind him. She prodded his full testicles with the tip of her cane. “My cum,” she repeated. “Every drop of it.”

    She drew back her cane, then snapped it up to impact the boy's balls. He bent, groaning, struggling to keep from falling.

    The Headmistress watched, a smile on her face as he slowly straightened again. His penis was wilting. “Now make it hard for me,” she commanded.

    She stalked between the rows, grinning. The boys still stroked themselves with the slow, regular rhythm of the metronome. The slick erections were so full and so plump, all straining and leaking pre-cum, pointed proudly upwards. She walked down the row, lecturing, punctuating her words with vicious blows with her cane randomly delivered to a boys' bloated balls.

    “You have to learn” SMACK! “that these little things” SMACK! “will only cause you pain.” SMACK!
    She looked back over her shoulder at the row of boys. The ones that she had struck were desperately manipulating their penises, trying to coax them back to full erection despite the sickening pain in their balls. The others were gritting their teeth to hold back the boiling cum trying to escape their throbbing erections. It was hard to tell which group was suffering worse.

    The Headmistress took a deep breath, and her nipples showed hard through her blouse. From long practice she kept her arousal under control. Later she would indulge herself. For now she had to concentrate on ensuring that no boy in her school was ever allowed the same opportunity.

    She kept walking between the boys, her eyes moving from the dripping penises to their equally dripping faces. They were sobbing with frustration, so close to losing all control.
    Well, she could help them with that.

    As she lectured them she expertly observed them, singling out the ones who were on the edge for sharp stinging blows with her cane.

    “These are toys” SMACK! “for any girl to play” SMACK! “with. For the rest of your life” SMACK! “they will ache” SMACK! “with need that will never stop.” SMACK!

    The room was filled with stifled cries and soft sobs. The Headmistress felt their suffering like a lover's hot kiss between her legs. At moments like this she wished that she could pleasure herself right here in the midst of them, bring herself to one screaming orgasm after another while surrounded by so much unfulfilled desire. That wouldn't be professional, though. They must never see her lose control.

    She walked rapidly in front of the first row, lashing out as she spoke.

    “Sexual pleasure is only for girls,” SMACK! “never for boys.” SMACK!

    She reached the table and walked slowly around it, taking a seat on the stool with deliberate nonchalance. All eyes were on her hand as she rested it on the metronome. She looked out across the group of boys as she let it continue, drinking in their miserable need.




    At last she stilled it, and grinned as forty hands released forty slick purple penises and went behind the boys' backs. The boy's organs twitched and dripped pre-cum. Every one of them was only a few fast strokes from a huge ejaculation. Time to put the toys away.

    “Girls,” the Headmistress clapped her hands and the prefects hurried to the front of the room. “Cage them.”

    The boys bent to pick up their cock cages and lined up for the prefects.

    The Headmistress grinned as she watched them. In some ways this was the best part. The first boy to reach the prefects stood with his legs spread, holding out the cage in his hand. The redhead took it and motioned to the blond, who looked down at the boy's raging erection.
    “It won't fit like that,” she observed with mock sadness. Slowly she reached out her hand to encircle the boy's swollen testicles. “Let's see if we can reduce the swelling.”

    The boy grimaced and swayed as she squeezed hard. He nearly collapsed with pain, but his erection subsided. As his penis wilted the redhead quickly stuffed it back into the chastity cage and clicked the lock shut.

    The first boy walked unsteadily to stand against the wall as the next took his place, also still rock hard. The Headmistress looked back down the line. The boys were struggling to get their organs under control, to make themselves soften enough to be locked up without the prefects cruel ministrations.

    It was a losing battle, the Headmistress knew. At their age, after such teasing with no release their penises would stay hard for hours. It was amusing to watch them try, however. They had no control at all—she had taken it all for herself.

    Eventually they were all locked again in their shiny metal cages, standing unsteadily in a line against the wall.

    The Headmistress raised her boot and the blond prefect knelt to refasten the chain and the key around her ankle.

    “Thank you,” she smiled. Such a lovely girl.

    The Headmistress got to her feet. “Take them away. When is the next class?”

    “In two hours, Headmistress,” the redhead answered quickly.

    “Two hours,” the Headmistress repeated. “In that case I'll be in my office. I am not to be disturbed except for emergencies.”
    scottirish likes this.
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