Ten Days Later
I was so excited, I was shaking. Everybody in my group formed a circle around of one of the hanging platforms in the gym. Finally!! I get to hang today!!
The academic classes for the First Year students contained about twenty students each, but Hanging Practice was restricted to groups of nine or ten, so the boys could all gather closely around the hanging platform, and so that instruction could be, to some extent, individualized, or at least not mass-produced. The same boys would be in my academic classes until the quarter ended in three months, but membership in the hanging classes was periodically scrambled, so that over time every boy could watch every other boy hang, and be watched by every boy. The Academy believed strongly in boys sharing their knowledge — and especially about hanging.
Up until today my group had only watched the teacher hang during each class meeting, listening to him describe his head movements, with all of the students gathered around, watching intently as the teacher dangled and kicked for a few minutes, barely breathing hard afterwards. Today, at last, we would be allowed to try it for the first time.
I had stripped and left my uniform on the floor, folded neatly on top of my sneakers, and joined the circle as each student took a turn, going in clockwise order around the circle. I could feel the tingling between my legs. I hoped it wouldn't turn into an obvious erection, but some of the other boys had already started to swell; they were as excited as I was.
As the boy to my right stepped up onto the platform, I stepped up with him to put handcuffs on his wrists, and to put the noose around his neck, under the teacher's supervision. Previous boys had done considerable fumbling with the rope, while the teacher explained the proper positioning to them.
I smiled as the teacher said, "Wynn, it looks like you've done that before."
"Yes, sir." Though the teacher himself was just a few years older than me, it seemed natural to address him with respect. Graduates should have respect. "A couple of the Second Year boys have been showing me how."
The teacher nodded, and I jumped down from the platform. The teacher looked up at the boy on the platform, who was having a hard time controlling his breathing, but looked determined, if nervous. At last the teacher pulled the lever. I'm next, I thought, next one up!!
Keeping one eye on his watch and the other on the boy kicking as he hanged, the teacher remained silent for now. After just sixty seconds, the teacher pushed the lever back.
The boy nearly fainted before I could get the noose off him, but his mouth had an ear-to-ear grin. The teacher said a few things to him as he stepped down, unlocking his handcuffs and handing them to the boy to my left.
I leapt onto the platform, calling out to Marshall in my mind: I'm here, Marshall! I'm going to do it!
I closed my eyes and worked on reining in my thundering heart as the boy holding the handcuffs locked them around my wrists behind me. I quivered as I felt the boy drop the loop of rope down over my head, and chuckled as it got caught for a moment on my nose. That relaxed me. I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead as the boy tightened up the noose, and waited while the teacher corrected the boy's placement of the knot. At last the boy jumped down, and I was alone on the platform.
A tingle shot through me as I felt the surface I was standing on start to descend. A light tug on my neck grew quickly stronger, pulling me up onto my toes. I would remember, the rest of my life, the feeling as my toes slipped along the surface and lost contact with it, in the same way that I remembered my very first orgasm.
I felt, more than I had ever felt in my life, that I was at home.
It wasn't as hard on my neck as I'd been expecting — the exercises with the neck trainer in my room were already paying off. Immediately I felt the intense rush of arousal flood through my body, the same way it had when Marshall and the Dean had choked me.
My fears that I would forget all the movements I was supposed to be doing, in the excitement of the moment, proved groundless. I did have to think about it, and promised myself it would all become automatic with more practice, but I did manage to wobble my head from one side to another. Much more natural was the kicking, my feet instinctively seeking support in all possible directions, unable to admit they would find none.
I guess that for at least fifteen seconds I couldn't breathe at all, and I worried I wasn't doing the movement right. I probably wasn't, but suddenly found I could take in air in tiny sips, letting it out slowly afterwards. It really works!!
I was less sure about the blood coming up in my arteries. Breathing, alone, was worthless — unless the oxygen I was breathing into my lungs could somehow get to my head, I might as well not even be breathing at all. Well, when I start hanging longer, I'll be able to sense the signs of hypoxia. I'll learn to adjust my movements so those warning signs will go away.
I didn't realize my minute was up until the floor of the platform suddenly bumped against my toes. My feet desperately sought out the now rising surface, but my mind was screaming No, it can't be over yet!!
I stood solidly on the floor of the platform at last, with a huge grin on my face, listening to the teacher, nodding my head at the teacher's comments, carefully filing them away in my mind for the next time. I wanted the next time to be now!
I waited, feeling more alive than I had ever been, watching the boy behind me mount the platform. The dog who had gone before me had the same look on his face that I did. I impulsively hugged him, surprised at myself for doing it — I knew his name was Jem, but I had barely even spoken to him before today. But we both wanted to share the feeling.
Minutes later, I watched Maverick step up to the platform. I almost gasped in admiration. I hadn't seen Maverick naked before, and I felt a flush of desire that I realized was not simply left over arousal from my own hanging earlier.
Maverick looked confident and matter-of-fact about the process. He did share all the other boys' excited look, the first time I had seen him anything other than stoic, but it was somehow muted, and I felt positive Maverick was not doing this for the first time in his life — he looked as though he were used to it.
From the moment Maverick was hoisted off the descending platform, I saw there was something different about him. He definitely had the head movements down, and his legs seemed, like the other boys, to kick out desperately in search of something to support them, but there was more going on. Maverick started thrusting his hips forward in an almost hypnotically erotic way, and after a moment, his leg kicking became less random — he threw them out wide, then swung them around and forward, as if he were throwing them around a lover. Several of the boys gasped. I might be one of them; I wasn't sure.
It hardly seemed as if the performance could only have been a minute long — it seemed much longer to me, but maybe that was because I was watching it so intently.
I've got to try some of that, I thought. It wasn't more sexual than Marshall's performance, but Maverick had done some things Marshall hadn't done.
I have to see if I can do that. I'm just starting. Maverick's obviously got experience, but I'm going to catch up with him.
I sat on the bed in Jack's room, leaning back against the wall, my knees drawn up. Sitting to my left, Jack thumbed the up-channel button on the TV remote. Jack's roommate Eric, sat to my right, his arms wrapping his shins. I was glad of a chance to spend time with Jack, as well as an opportunity to get to know Eric. Eric, a solidly-built hedgehog, was one of the quiet boys in class, rarely contributing to classroom discussions, while Jack and I had developed a friendly competition to see which could manage a quicker response to the teacher's questions.
Jack paused on one channel long enough to determine the show was a boyhunt. He looked at me with raised eyebrows that solicited my approval for staying with the show.
I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Think these things are rigged, like they say?"
Jack frowned. "I don't know if I'd pretend to be hunted if I knew for sure I was going to get caught and skinned at the end. I'd like to think there was some real chance of winning."
"Me too. Maybe they really recruit a different sort of contestant from what they claim, though. Different from us, for one thing. Supposedly the boys in the hunt are the super-adventurous type, loving the challenge, but maybe they actually dreamed of being actors, and they like the idea of ending their lives with one big 'Let's pretend' kind of thing."
Jack looked thoughtfully at the screen. A buff naked okapi jogged past one of the many hidden cameras in the jungle, crouching to avoid low-hanging branches, then paused just at the edge of camera range to listen for the sounds of pursuit. It did indeed appear likely that the boy knew exactly where the camera was. "So maybe they are kind of like us, that way. We're actors, sort of. I mean, we're going to put on a scripted show at the end."
Eric spoke up unexpectedly. "I'd rather think of us as athletes."
I smiled. "Yeah, I'll go with that. The hanging script adds to the audience's enjoyment, but they'll really be there to see us use our bodies in a way that most people can't — we'll have had years of physical training for it."
Jack grinned and waved the remote. "So should I find us a football game?" All of us laughed.
I brushed my hand along the surface of the bed. "You guys didn't waste any time getting the one bed."
Jack laughed. Eric was smiling and blushing. Jack explained, "We just both like to keep warm at night."
It was my turn to laugh; Jack looked at me curiously. "How are things going with Sumner?" Jack asked. "I saw you've still got two beds."
I didn't want to say anything that might make Sumner's sexual preferences appear odd. "He's really sweet. I like him a lot, but I think he just takes awhile to get to know. There's no hurry. Lots of the other rooms still have two beds."
Jack gave a sly smile. "Like Maverick and Shaw?"
I groaned. "Poor Shaw. I imagine he's finding there are some people you don't want to get to know." I'd found my earliest impression of Maverick was still holding up. He made his presence felt in the classroom like Jack and me, but generally in a more negative way. He was quick to correct other students, with a smirk that expressed his satisfaction at being able to put another boy down. Other times Maverick didn't have to say a word. The smirk, or an exasperated groan and rolled eyes, were enough, while the teacher made the correction himself.
Eric shuddered. "Jack, don't bring the mood down by talking about him. It's bad enough being in the same class with him for the next three years. I don't even want to think what it's like sharing a room."
Jack nodded. "Okay, this is a Maverick-free zone. Anyway, luckily there are still people I do want to get to know better." He brushed my arm with his hand, smiling.
I looked down at Jack's hand and smiled. "Isn't my butt making the bed warm enough?"
Jack leaned closer. "I think we can do better."
I turned to Eric, wanting to make sure. "Okay with this?"
Eric smiled. "Asking you here was my idea. I get you after."
I shivered as my cock started getting hard. I turned back to Jack, my voice suddenly breathy. "Sounds fair to me."
Jack leaned still closer. His lips were warm and soft.