Forget about talking during class with Mr. Music Man as your teacher. He'll
take his leather whip, snap it in you general direction if you so much as
breath loudly. Imagine what he'd do if you dared to speak.
He was about five feet tall, small and wiry, with a face like a mouse's. A small twitching nose, and beady eyes that must once have been a brilliant shade of green but were dulled to a dark grey. A wet red mouth, straight yellowed teeth, and a clean shaven chin. His hair was white and thinning. We never knew exactly how old he was.
We called him Mr. Music Man behind his back, the origins of the name were unknown. The children a few generations before us had dubbed him Mr. Music Man. We weren't completely sure why. Maybe because of his tendency to sing (if that's what you'd call it) while he raped you.
Yes, he'd rape you. You weren't safe from him, ever. He had a big ring that held 20 or 30 polished silver keys that would let him into every dorm. He would sneak in your room late at night, and he would choose one boy to take. First he'd run his long spindly index finger up the boy's spine to let him know that he would be serving him tonight.
Mr. Music Man would grab the boy by the hips and drag him down onto the rough wooden floor. The other children in the dorm would clutch their pillows and squeeze their eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of Mr. Music Man's raspy breath and the Chosen Boy's sobs.
He would fuck the child right on the floor, working his erection into the Chosen Boy's tiny hole. He would clamp his large hand over the child's mouth to stop him from making too much noise. The Boy would always cry. Always.
Once Henry Mills bit his hand, and Mr. Music Man beat him so bad that the dorm room floor had blood on it and Henry couldn't go poo normally anymore. So we never dared to bite his hand, though sometimes we did unconciously because the pain would so bad.
Mr. Music Man would groan with the sensation as he started to thrust jerkily deeper into the Boy's anus. His eyes would close, and he'd thrust faster and faster in the Boy. Mr. Music Man would eventually start singing.
It was not loud singing, just raspy little words in a melody in between the moaning. At first you couldn't tell what the melody even was. Then he'd sing it more clearly, and louder.
"Turn Thee to me and have mercy, for I am desolate and sore distressed. Great, great are the sorrows of my heart; bring me out of my distress, bring me out of my distress. Oh be merciful, look on my sorrow, see mine affliction and forgive me all my wickedness. Oh, keep my soul in safety and deliver me. Let me never be confounded for my hope is in Thee, for my hope is in Thee, in Thee."
He sang the same biblical passage every night as he climaxed and released his seed into the Chosen Boy. After Mr. Music Man was finished he roughly pulled his limp appendage out of the Boy and gave the Boy's rump a hard smack. It was a ritual.
He would wipe himself clean and walk slowly out of the room, close the door softly behind him. The Chosen Boy would still be lying stiffly face down, gently sobbing for the pain. It would always take the Boy about five minutes to be able to lift himself off the floor and back into bed. The next day, he would not be able to walk, so he would stay in bed and pretend to be sick.
The other boys never spoke about what happened at night. No one ever brought it up. It seemed almost.private.
You see, every time he raped you, it would begin to feel a little better. It would always hurt, you would always cry, but secretly you were aching with not just pain, but also a new, good feeling. You'd dread the feeling of him running his finger down your spine, choosing you, but you'd die for the feeling of the burning inside you while he sang.
You find good things in the weirdest places.
-end
He was about five feet tall, small and wiry, with a face like a mouse's. A small twitching nose, and beady eyes that must once have been a brilliant shade of green but were dulled to a dark grey. A wet red mouth, straight yellowed teeth, and a clean shaven chin. His hair was white and thinning. We never knew exactly how old he was.
We called him Mr. Music Man behind his back, the origins of the name were unknown. The children a few generations before us had dubbed him Mr. Music Man. We weren't completely sure why. Maybe because of his tendency to sing (if that's what you'd call it) while he raped you.
Yes, he'd rape you. You weren't safe from him, ever. He had a big ring that held 20 or 30 polished silver keys that would let him into every dorm. He would sneak in your room late at night, and he would choose one boy to take. First he'd run his long spindly index finger up the boy's spine to let him know that he would be serving him tonight.
Mr. Music Man would grab the boy by the hips and drag him down onto the rough wooden floor. The other children in the dorm would clutch their pillows and squeeze their eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of Mr. Music Man's raspy breath and the Chosen Boy's sobs.
He would fuck the child right on the floor, working his erection into the Chosen Boy's tiny hole. He would clamp his large hand over the child's mouth to stop him from making too much noise. The Boy would always cry. Always.
Once Henry Mills bit his hand, and Mr. Music Man beat him so bad that the dorm room floor had blood on it and Henry couldn't go poo normally anymore. So we never dared to bite his hand, though sometimes we did unconciously because the pain would so bad.
Mr. Music Man would groan with the sensation as he started to thrust jerkily deeper into the Boy's anus. His eyes would close, and he'd thrust faster and faster in the Boy. Mr. Music Man would eventually start singing.
It was not loud singing, just raspy little words in a melody in between the moaning. At first you couldn't tell what the melody even was. Then he'd sing it more clearly, and louder.
"Turn Thee to me and have mercy, for I am desolate and sore distressed. Great, great are the sorrows of my heart; bring me out of my distress, bring me out of my distress. Oh be merciful, look on my sorrow, see mine affliction and forgive me all my wickedness. Oh, keep my soul in safety and deliver me. Let me never be confounded for my hope is in Thee, for my hope is in Thee, in Thee."
He sang the same biblical passage every night as he climaxed and released his seed into the Chosen Boy. After Mr. Music Man was finished he roughly pulled his limp appendage out of the Boy and gave the Boy's rump a hard smack. It was a ritual.
He would wipe himself clean and walk slowly out of the room, close the door softly behind him. The Chosen Boy would still be lying stiffly face down, gently sobbing for the pain. It would always take the Boy about five minutes to be able to lift himself off the floor and back into bed. The next day, he would not be able to walk, so he would stay in bed and pretend to be sick.
The other boys never spoke about what happened at night. No one ever brought it up. It seemed almost.private.
You see, every time he raped you, it would begin to feel a little better. It would always hurt, you would always cry, but secretly you were aching with not just pain, but also a new, good feeling. You'd dread the feeling of him running his finger down your spine, choosing you, but you'd die for the feeling of the burning inside you while he sang.
You find good things in the weirdest places.
-end