FSE

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The instructor, a large, muscled tiger named Liam, looked down at the small fox sitting on the thin and narrow bed in the small, cramped cement cell, with its damp floor and heavy steel door. "Do you understand your rules, James?" he asked. "Do you really expect an eighteen year old boy not to masturbate for a whole month?" the fox asked snidely. James was nervous, his fingers trembling, and stupidly he said the first thing that popped into his head, trying to be clever and show off how little he cared after his instructor explained that scary list of regulations to him.

The instructor backhanded the boy hard. James landed on the thin mattress of his cot. "You're a stupid little slut, aren't you? You'll do what we say, when we say, and you'll do it happily. You were a good boy today James, you almost made me consider not giving you the introduction course. tsk. Guess what?" He grabbed James by the scruff of his neck and brought him nose to nose, "You're fucked, kiddo." He said, throwing the whimpering boy back onto the bed and pulling off his belt. For a brief moment, James thought he was going to be raped in this dark cramped little cell, and it was a terror and a relief when he saw the belt raised. He huddled into the corner, repeating pleas for mercy while the instructor belted him three times across his torso, landing blows on his stomach, and his arms that were defending his face and chest.

"What are your rules?!" He screamed at the quivering boy. When he failed to get a response, he landed his hardest blow yet across the boys cock, making the little fox scream in sheer agony. "What are your rules!" The crying fox looked up, holding out his hands in begging defense. He pleaded through choked sobs, his whole body trembling, tears matting the fur beneath his eyes. "A.. god-please... a good fox keeps his... his hands above the covers, sir..." He looked up at the tiger for approval, getting only a blank and fierce scowl. He wanted to vomit, the fear and pain and stress overwhelming his senses. But since the belt didn't crash back down, he tried to remember rule two.

"A good fox never speaks unless spoken to... a good fox--" again the belt landed on his cock, and the boy drew back further into the corner, only to be gripped by his ankle and tugged forward again, to have his legs spread open again, and three vicious blows land on his exposed dick before he could even cover them with his hands, which were gripping for anything to pull back from the monster above him. He screamed, and the tears were flowing freely now, the hopelessness setting in when he realized there was nowhere to run and no way to escape this pain, no balm when the bruising set in but the cold dampness around him. "A good fox says sir, faggot! Do I look like one of your fucking druggie fag friends in these cells or like a fucking instructor?! I'm a sir, you're a slut faggot whatever the hell I want to call you. go on."

James tried to be brave. He looked at the floor, at the instructor's feet and then the concrete and then the wall. He had been as brave as he could, and he managed to get clear of his bed before he vomited. His head slumped down onto the mattress, he was trembling. Even his tears seemed defeated, rolling down his cheeks, the sobbing replaced by a complacent stream. He moaned and whimpered, unable to look at the man towering over him anymore.

James thought about how he got here, and where 'here' was. He was here because of his mother. She had caught him kissing and fondling his English tutor, a sexy guy named Greg. She told him he was going to a straight conversion camp the next day, bitching him out and making him feel like crap as always with her guilt trips. The next night, he awoke to a man looming over him in his bedroom, and he barely had time to ask what the fuck the man was doing in his room before his hands were cuffed in front of him and he was led out to a van, to be taken here to the camp.

The camp itself was a terrifying building, looking like a 19th century mansion on the outside, and a dark and dreary asylum of steel and concrete on the inside. The lights flickered, there was a staff of terrifying men three times the size of the boy, and he could hear faint sounds like boys screaming down the long halls.

He didn't even raise his head when the instructor whipped him again on the thighs, he just stared blankly at the wall, trembling, and wanting this to be over, needing to be alone now more than ever in his life. "A good fox doesn't make his instructor repeat himself sir. A good fox doesn't masturbate sir. A good fox doesn't eat, drink, sit, piss, or anything without an instructor's permission, sir. A... A good fox..." He broke down again, he couldn't say it. He looked up pleadingly, trying to find sympathy. The instructor grinned a toothy grin that made James' stomach churn, so he closed his eyes and forced it past his lips: "A good fox knows he needs a juicy dick in his mouth every day, sir." he said. He kept his eyes clenched, and finished off his list. "A good fox will accept his punishments like a good boy, sir. A good fox always addresses his instructors as sir, sir. A good fox won't try to seduce one of his fellow housemates, sir." He looked up at the tiger hopefully. He knew that was the complete list, he had an excellent memory. He hoped beyond hope that this horror was over, that he could lie down at last and sleep. He had been awake for a whole day now aside from his van ride, he hadn't had a smoke. To James, crying was weakness. He was a tough fox. To cry, to be cowed into submission, was a violation he couldn't bear. He just wanted to rest alone...

The tiger nodded his consent that the boy was done, so when he raised the belt again, James was equally confused and terrified. "Please?! I did it right! I did it-" His pleas were cut short and turned into panicked whimpering and screaming as the belt crashed down onto his already sore cock again. Over and over the boy's instructor slammed the belt against James' cock and balls and thighs, leaving red screaming welts and making the boy twist and cry out over and over. It felt like James' cock was on fire, it felt like it was being torn off... then there was a moment of blessed numbness, and as quick as it came the pain roared back in even greater waves. He lay there sobbing by the time the instructor was done, his cock nothing but a bruised lump.

"hush, kiddo. There's a good boy, there's a good pet." The tiger praised, sitting on the bed and stroking James' hair. "There's a no masturbating policy here, James. Unfortunately, we're out of the usual chastity devices. I ordered you one special from our friends that supply them, but they won't be here until tomorrow. I had to do that to you. You learned your rules well though. You stick to those, and keep your nose down, and you'll be okay here. Okay boy?" he smiled warmly at James, a gentle smile, a comforting smile. It shouldn't have been comforting to James. The man had just beaten him, hurt him, kidnapped him... but it was. He saw it and it brought on a fresh wave of tears. He lay his head on his instructor's lap and let the tears flow again while his hair was stroked gently.

"Good boy, James. I'll be leaving soon, I have another boy who was less good than you tonight to attend to. You will be locked in here for the next fourteen hours. I suggest you sleep. Tomorrow's a big day for you, the first day of the rest of your life you might say." He patted the boy's cheek and stood up, gently covering the boy up with his blanket and sidestepping the vomit from earlier, leaving it to the boy to clean. James looked up at the man above him, and the shift in mood, the relief from the stress and the pain, it had filled him with tearful gratitude. "Thank you, sir..." he squeaked. "Sleep tight kiddo" the instructor said, before closing and bolting the door, and turning off the light.

Finally alone, James could only close his eyes and cry, relief and fear and confusion mixing together, wondering what was going to happen from here. His mood was changing from fear to anger and rage and his usual sly attitude. He was going to find a way out of this. He was going to avoid beatings, play that damned tigers game, and be the best 'pet' in this godforsaken building. He was going to get out.