Rosco Murtson - Adoption Agency Girl

It might be a girl with a wrenched back whose pain was largely forgotten while she got her treatment and made snide little remarks about the boy in the thin boxer trunks who was blushing scarlet while he swept the floor around the examining table.

It might be Mr. Scantland himself, come in to talk about the management of the Agency and casting stern looks in Tim's direction while the boy cringed about the room, doing his little tasks.

Whoever it was, Tim was in constant fear of getting a hardon in their presence, for the thin shorts offered no protection at all against embarrassments such as this. But whoever it was, he knew very well when they were gone that he was in for another wild time with Nurse Frye, his protector and his lover, for each of these little episodes seemed to bring out the fiery woman in her. There were times when Tim even looked forward to being a part of this type of humiliation, but young as he was, he didn't realize he was looking forward to it.

Nurse Fyre knew it, though. If she knew anything, she knew young boys. She knew Tim very well because he'd been a special one in her hopes, but as usual, her hopes did not exceed reality. He was a good, dear boy, but he wasn't perfect. He worked hard and he sexed hard but he wasn't perfect, because there were so many other boys in the world that no one boy could be altogether perfect. Still she worked with him, enjoying him, finding new ways for enjoying him and training him.

For instance,

Tim slept in the little apartment while Nurse Frye usually went home to her comfortable house every night. One particular morning she came in and found nothing but fault with him. His hair wasn't properly combed, his shorts weren't properly ironed, he'd overslept and hadn't made his bed, and all the chores he'd done the day before simply weren't right. "I thought you were a man, at least a boy," she said. "But you're acting more like a silly girl. Lord knows I've tried to guide you rightly but it just hasn't worked out. I'm going to have to take you to Mr. Scantland's office and make an example out of you."

"But what'd I do?" he pleaded. "I live right here and do everything you say."

"You argue, that*s what you do. And it's time you got a good spanking for it. You've seen the girls that have come in here for salve for their blistered bottoms? You're going to need a whole jarful of salve for yours when Mr. Scantland is done with you."

“No, please!"

"Oh, yes. Matter of fact, he'll do a better job on you if you're dressed up like a girl. See? I've got a uniform for you right here."

She produced that awful uniform, the white blouse and the brown skirt, the one he knew the girls wore when they were summoned to Mr. Scantland's office for a whipping. And he broke down and simply begged that he shouldn't have to wear it. She hemmed and hawed, as only she could do, and at the last possible moment she relented and allowed as if he could go as he was, with some minor alterations.

She put her hand up the leghole of his shorts and inserted the pigeon's egg in his asshole. This was a plastic ovoid that contained a very active vibrator, operated by the batteries which were connected to it by the wire that came out of his anus. Nurse Frye had used it many times to bring out the best in him when he was fucking her, and both of them knew what it did to his prick when she used it. Next she put a blindfold around his eyes and a gag over his mouth and tied his hands behind his back and led him out of the examining room.

He hadn't been out of the rooms for several weeks and he'd had fantasies about how nice it would be to be free, but the fantasies hadn't included this. Though he couldn't see, he could hear, and he heard all manner of snickerings, both real and imagined, as he was led along on the front of the electrical wire leash, prick uncontrollably jutting out of his flimsy little silk shorts as Nurse Frye followed behind, pressing the button that worked the vibrator, deep in his asshole.

At last, after an interminable bare-footed trip through cold hallways, Tim was led through a door to be greeted by Mr. Scant-land's stern voice. "What's this???"

"He needs some discipline, I'm afraid."

"I have no time for him today. Two very bad girls are due right now for some discipline, Nurse Frye. He certainly does need it, though. The very idea, coming into the Office of the Director of the Agency in a condition like that!"

A chair squeaked backwards and in a moment Tim could feel the presence of the Director at his side. To his abject horror a hand grasped his stiffly jutting prick and milked back the foreskin, and for the life of him he didn't know if the hand belonged to Mr. Scant-land or to Nurse Frye, and for the life of him he couldn't help but go on responding to the buzzing pigeon's egg lodged deep up his ass.

They discussed him, discussed the girls who were to be disciplined, discussed the workings of the Agency while he gritted his teeth behind the gag and squinted his eyes behind the blindfold and tried not to squirt in the hand that was milking his prick and thus make an utter fool of himself. He almost had a heart attack when the timid knock at the door came, and then he sagged with relief when he was bustled along and hidden behind something long and soft, red draperies, he saw, when the blindfold was whipped off.

He could see through the drapes, dimly but clearly. He could watch everything going on, hear all of it, as Mr. Scantland administered stern discipline to two of the most gorgeous girls Tim had ever seen in his life. One was black and one was white, and each was superbly dressed in the brown and white uniform he'd been threatened with, and they were gorgeous. Even without the impetus of the thrilling pigeon's egg he might have cum, might have helplessly squirted his jizm against the drapes as he watched in real life, not just on a screen, while the girls took their punishment and gave much more.

He saw the whippings and the scoldings, the kisses and the tears, the finger-fuckings and the cuntlapping, and the fucking. He saw it all, even saw when each of the girls knelt and begged for and then sucked upon Mr. Scantland's long prick, and this too made Tim cum as he stood behind the drapes, watching, hearing, longing.

He was exhausted when he was let out, back down the hallways, blindfolded again. But he was able to show all his youthful vigor when he was back in the cozy apartment, with Nurse Frye comfortably ensconced in her chair, and with him given the opportunity to do as he would with her.

One day Tim was working in Nurse Frye's examining room when there sounded that knock on the door. He stood there motionless, except for the crawly feeling of his prick growing hard, while Nurse Frye looked at her appointment book. He felt almost disappointed when at last she jerked her thumb in the direction of her apartment and said, "Get out."

The waiting was difficult in there that day for Tim was plagued by his vivid imagination. He knew it was probably just another newcomer to the Agency or perhaps Mr* Scantland with Nurse Frye, but his active little brain was picturing a gorgeous girl in there, fresh from a beating, raising her skirts for the application of soothing salve on a reddened bottom. The more he thought about it the more certain he became that there was a lovely young girl in there with Nurse Frye, perhaps two of them, and the thought of it had him pacing the apartment behind a bobbing stiff dick. At last he couldn't stand it any more. He threw himself down in the big chair, pressed the button that activated the movie projector, and began to jerk off.

His prick ached so badly that he couldn't help it. It was strictly forbidden that he play with his prick without Nurse Frye's supervision, but this time he just couldn't help it. The movies seemed particularly erotic that day, but what really had his prick so stiff and needful was the increasingly sure knowledge that Nurse Frye had her fat hands on a tender young bottom and was perhaps even spreading soothing balm on a pair of apple-perfect young titties, cruelly striped with Mr. Scant-land's riding crop. Of course he had no intention at all of beating off to an ejaculation. He was quite sexually mature for his age and was confident he had the self-control to stop at the right point. But he knew too that his recuperative powers were good, and that if he did go beating on to a rousing good climax that he'd recover quickly enough to screw Nurse Frye if her visitor had left her in the mood for that kind of attention. So he held back, squirming happily in the big chair, watching the movies and trying not to think about what was happening in the adjoining room.