End of original BOYABUSE Stories – charges also included an unfinished version of Stand By America.

S & M Theatre

Act One: Erotic Pain

The tiny black stage with an ornate divan upholstered in gray crushed velvet is surrounded by tiered seating except at the back where a level ramp leads to a door. The setting provides the three dozen spectators with an intimate view of the proceedings. In addition, a series of large monitors circle the walls above to provide close-ups. The lights slowly dim to blackness and a spot light focused on the ramp brightens as a door opens. A pale oriental boy draped in a light gauzy mantle walks with short steps to the front of the stage. He looks around serenely with a Mona Lisa hint of a smile on his small sensuous lips before with a flourish he tosses back his mantle. Then arms raised he slowly turns around a few times proudly displaying his lithe well proportioned body with only a sparse garland of fine hairs crowning his dusky, sprouting genitals. Murmurs of approval are heard. Then standing legs akimbo he begins lazily massaging his breast with his fingers. His prominent dark nipples erect and his face conveys his pleasure. He lies back on the divan facing the audience, closes his eyes and continues to play with his nipples. The lights dim for a moment before a spot again picks out the door. A tall handsome youth with dark browed, blue eyes, a priest attired in a long black tailored robe enters. He approaches the supine boy, kneels beside him, takes one of his dangling hands, and kisses it formally. The boy stirs as the Priest leaning over him affectionately kisses his nipples and lips. He opens his eyes and smiles at the youth. Then the Priest starts gently plucking at the boy's right nipple gradually pinching harder and drawing the tip an inch out from his chest as the boy shudders with pleasure. With repeated pain giving twisting tweaks the nipple swells and reddens. They kiss again with more passion and on a monitor we see their tongues flicking and playing with each other. Then the Priest takes out a small black case containing finger length pins with large blue gem like heads. Pinching the very tip of the nipple with his thumbnail he draws it out with one hand while his other forces the pin through the raw swollen flesh. On the monitor, several times life size we see the pin enter the inflamed cone dimpling it and then stretching out the skin on the other side to a point before the bright tip slowly emerges. The boy lies back licking his lips and gazing into the Priest's eyes. His body quivers and undulates and he pants and moans from more than the pain. His slender cock rises until it's almost pointing at his face. The Priest methodically keeps working pins through the nipple kissing the boy's eagerly pursed lips after each piercing. When he is finished five pins forming a neat star ornamenting his nipple. It is like some jeweled flower of fantasy with a bleeding ruby centre. The Priest gently caresses the boy's head with one hand while the other begins to twist the star one way and then the other painfully stretching the pierced flesh. The boy squirms and starts bucking, raising his hips off the divan. Then thrusting his pelvis up he squeals and ejaculates into his own face as his tongue laps in what it can. They kiss again deeply and lazily lick each other's face. The audience cheers and the Priest and the boy get up and take their bows. The boy smiling broadly displays his nipple blossom and people tip him for the privilege of removing pins. He rubs his hand in the oozing blood and lets people suck it off his fingers. The lights dim as they go off stage.

Act Two: Coercive Pain

The lights come on focusing on a sullen freckled red haired boy clad only in a long tattered gray T-shirt. He is kneeling with his back to a tall round metal pole with his wrists shackled behind it just above his head. He peers around uncomfortably, the shackles on his ankles and wrists rattling against the pole as he shifts. Anger, fear and resentment burn in his greenish eyes. After a minute the Priest comes out of the shadows, stands in front of the kneeling boy and inquires, "Are you ready yet?" He opens his robes apparently expecting to be sucked. "Are you ready to pleasure me?" The boy glares at him and spits. "I see you need some persuasion." He violently rips off the tattered T-shirt exposing the lad's well muscled adolescent torso and the compact bronze patch above his dangling uncut cock. He touches his cock and remarks. "It's quite a pretty one." The boy spits at him again. "Pleasure mine or I will pain yours." "FUCK YOU!" The Priest lifts the boy's shackled wrists and hooks them higher up the back of the pole. It's an awkward strained position as he cannot stand straight with his ankles behind the pole. The priest stands with arms folded seeming to enjoy the defiant boy's discomfort. Then he takes a short thin leather strap out his robes and begins lightly spanking the boy's genitals arousing his cock. Then with considerably more force coming from below he begins smacking his balls. The boy cannot close his knees and endures the torment with little more than muted gasps. The monitors show close-ups of the strap impacting his reddening nut sac and his agonized face. The audience watches and listens in rapt fascination as the strap continues to slap his balls. The Priest opens his robes again. "Are you ready to go back on your knees and...?" "FUCK YOU!" and the boy spits in his face. "You not only will, but you will beg to satisfy me. I have more exquisite delicacies for you to taste." He spanks the boy's protruding cock a few times and then he pushes back the prepuce exposing the glans and the delicate inner skin. He smartly straps the boy's now rigid cock from side to side and top and bottom paying particular attention to the knob and sensitive frenum. The monitors leave little to be imagined. The desperate boy struggles futilely and winces and yelps with each blow, his cock becoming inflamed, but in between determination and hate blaze in his intense eyes. Then he becomes grimly silent and all that is heard is the regular slapping sounds. The monitors show several times life size how his pretty cock has become swollen and turned a deep red. Then the Priest gives his tender balls a series of heavy slaps which contort his body revealing his musculature in detail. He stops and looks at the stubborn boy; he seems to be waiting so that the boy can steel himself to take more. The boy shakes his disheveled auburn locks and spits, "FUCK YOU!" Though exhausted and in agony he is still not ready to cooperate. The Priest pauses while the boy catches his breath. "Shall we continue?" The boy is silent. He starts lashing the boy's body vigorously welting his chest, stomach and thighs. The boy writhes and screams. The strapping continues as the lights dim to total blackness and all sounds cease. After a moment of silence the audience erupts into wild applause. When the lights come on a minute later the boy now unshackled and looking pleased makes his rounds of the audience allowing them to inspect his abused body and genitals. The appreciative audience tips him generously for his fortitude.

Act Three: Game Pain

The lights come on. Two new boys, Francesco, a strong but soft featured Mediterranean lad with faint dark wisps on his upper lip and sideburns, and Lars, a taller wiry blond with hazel eyes and fine angular features, stand at the front clasping hands clad only in distinctive long silk sports jackets with their names emblazoned on them. The Priest shows them a yard long thin padded black leather whip and carefully oils and polishes it with soft white rags until it gleams. He lets the audience examine the whip and feel its heft before he flicks it a few times for effect. We hear it snap and make an audible swishing sound as it cuts the air. It is a potentially painful and damaging instrument although unlikely to cut the skin. The Priest explains the rules of the contest, more for the audience than the boys. They will take four turns of six strokes on each other. The boy wielding the whip he must keep his blows from just above the nipples to just above the knees, or the other gets extra strokes. The other boy may dodge but he must not move his feet or lower his arms beneath his nipples, or he receives an extra stroke. It is a game of skill and fortitude and after the audience can vote for their choice by using their ticket stubs as ballots. Each vote is worth one fifth of the admission price so the boys do their best. The boys remove their jackets revealing their handsome adolescent torsos and embrace each other. To decide who goes first the Priest tosses the whip in the air and both boys leap to catch it, Lars succeeding. Francesco stands with his feet apart, knees slightly bent and his arms protecting his face as Lars circles around him and then catching him as he's forced to turn back he sears his ribs with two sharp blows. There's not all that much that Francisco can do as he takes four more good blows on his belly, back and hips. He is well marked at the end. The Priest takes the whip, cleans and reoils it and hands it back to Lars who then ceremonially kneels in front of Francesco as he hands the whip to him.

Lars, probably hoping to impress the audience, deliberately presents his chest and the his buttocks to the whip. Francesco exploits the opportunity and lashes him viciously. After the third blow however Lars loses his bravado and goes on the defence, and by cleverly feinting manages to miss one blow entirely. He is perhaps more agile and sly but Francesco is stronger and his blows are heavier. Then again with solemn ceremony the whip is turned over to Lars. He starts in quickly and with a determined flurry that makes Francesco lose his balance which costs him two extra blows when he moves his feet. The turns continue with both boys striving to put on a good show of taking it and giving it as the audience murmurs its appreciation. Each boy is penalized with several extra lashes for moving his feet or high blows. Dodges and feints are sometimes rewarded but towards the end both tire and tend to accept the vicious lashes passively. At the end both try to appear confident and display their strikingly welted bodies as the audience marks their ticket stubs. Despite the many long darkening welts ridging their flesh there's hardly any bleeding. The narrow padded whip with its weight and softness was ideal for the occasion. The audience rules it a fairly even contest with Francesco receiving a few more of the donation votes than Lars. Both seem satisfied with their earnings. Refreshed, they bow to each other, clasp hands and embrace again but with more passion, sensuously kissing and fondling each other as the lights dim.

At the encore the Priest and the four boys, now cleaned up and in costume, take their bows and playfully banter amongst themselves and joke with the audience. All appear in good spirits. Later in the lobby, now fashionably attired in street clothes they mingle briefly with the audience before they leave in a waiting limousine.