I sat straddling the exercise-machine bench in the gym, a towel draped over my neck, running beads of sweat tickling my back and stomach. Maverick sat beside me in a similar pose, with similar towel, similar sweat. He made an almost imperceptible gesture with his head, and spoke, his lips moving only slightly. "That him? The third one in line?"
I responded, my voice low, "Yeah, the ocelot."
Maverick and I turned our heads slightly toward each other; we didn't want to be staring at the boys in the hanging class on the other side of the gym. I didn't want to make any of the boys self-conscious, least of all the one I wanted Maverick to see. The First Year boys had only been doing actual hanging for a few days. Being closely scrutinized from across the room by two red-uniformed graduates, famous ones at that, would likely freak them out.
The first boy in the class was hanging, doing some frantic kicking as he listened to quiet instructions from Lucas. I whispered back, "I saw him the first day they were in here. It was like..." I allowed myself a small smile. "Like watching you the first time, all over again."
Maverick choked back a laugh and leaned casually on his upraised palm, elbow supported on his thigh. "It's not that unusual that boys come here with some previous hanging experience. You're kind of the weird one."
I grinned and gave a slight headshake. "You'll see what I'm talking about."
The second boy in the class mounted the platform, looking a little shy, still, at being naked at the center of attention of the rest of his class — he'd soon get over that. The boy we were watching, the cute red-haired one, jumped up next to him on the platform, with an excited grin on his face, putting the noose around his classmate's neck and adjusting it, afterwards cuffing the boy's hands behind him, then jumping back down to the floor again. Maverick nodded slightly. The redhead had set the noose very quickly. Lucas had automatically stepped forward to advise him, but nodded and stepped back without comment when he saw the redhead had done it exactly right.
While the boy ahead of the redhead was hanging, Maverick asked me, "Are you sure we want to start with a First Year boy? Marcus and Zuchter are both really good already, and it wouldn't take too long to give them some extra training. Zuchter gets some really great ideas. And they're both Second Years, so they'll still be here a long time. I want to get to my hanging before too long." At present, the Dean's order given to Maverick and me to find worthy replacements as the creative leaders among the underclass boys weighed heavily on us, the only thing standing in the way of our worked-for and longed-for hangings. Well, except for lead time needed to schedule Maverick's performance
"Honey, there's nothing wrong with Marcus and Zuchter, and sure, it makes sense to go with them. And we can start that right away, but I just want to see what you think of this boy first."
" 'Kay. Look, he's up."
I started to turn my head, but remembered not to. Resting my chin in my hand, I threw my shoulders back a couple of times as if working out a slight stiffness, while watching the redhead out of the corner of my eye.
The boy was now on the platform, and it was descending. I could sense Maverick's intense focus, at a level only Maverick could muster, as we both watched.
As the boy's feet left the platform, he began kicking, and the difference between him and the other boys was obvious to me. His kicking was perfectly synchronized with the movements of his head. This was rare in boys with less than twelve months' training at the Academy.
After about fifteen seconds, his kicking took on a new dimension. He lifted his right leg and threw it straight down, forcefully, and during the downstroke lifted his left leg and used it for a similar downward thrust. The entire movement resembled a diver climbing a step before leaping off for a plunge into the water. The momentum created by the move threw his hips far forward in a very erotic thrust, while his legs, now both straight, strained downward, their muscles standing taut and quivering. This was similar to Shaw's classic desperate-to-find-support move, but was not a case of switching, at some point, to Shaw's move. Rather, the entire sequence of movements was a unified whole, a single smooth dance performed in mid-air.
As the boy's hips swung back, he smoothly repeated the cycle of movements, and then a third time, before shifting back into more standard kicking.
By the time the boy finished the first cycle, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Maverick. Lucas raised the platform as the maximum sixty-second time allowed novices was reached. I immediately turned to look at Maverick, but Maverick was still staring at the boy, wide-eyed, barely breathing. At last Maverick shook his head slightly to clear it, and murmured, "Okay, I've never seen that before."
I laughed. "So I don't have to explain why I wanted you here?"
Maverick laughed as well. "Uhhh, no."
We sat and stretched for a few minutes, to avoid leaving immediately after the boy's performance, then Maverick finally stood and grinned. "We'd better go get Zuchter. Think he's had enough yet?"
I was starting to rise, but dropped back onto the bench, laughing hard. "He'll never get enough, hon."
Minutes later, Maverick peeked through the door of the cafeteria, then eased himself in. I followed and let the door whisper shut behind me.
The cafeteria was nearly deserted at this time, 3:30, though individual boys dropped in throughout the afternoon for snacks. Other than Maverick and me, the caf's only two other occupants at present were Julius, one of the Third Year boys, and Zuchter, who was exactly where Maverick had left him two hours earlier.
Zuchter was naked atop one of the tables, his butt up in the air. The stallion was tied so thoroughly that he couldn't move. He was also blindfolded and gagged. There was a rope around his waist, and from the rope hung a vibrator, with a note on it that said, "Use Me." Julius, who apparently had been sidetracked in his quest for a snack, was following instructions, understanding immediately, that he was not meant to use it on himself, but on Zuchter. I could clearly hear the humming of the vibrator as Julius used its tip on Zuchter's perinium, then worked it slowly inside the stallion's tailhole. Through the gag, Zuchter was huffing high-pitched moans, his leg and buttock muscles clenching, the sweat pouring down his body, precum dribbling out of his cock. At last, with a muffled scream, he came; every muscle in his body quivered with tension, semen flowing onto the table. At last he relaxed, his throat making soft moans in time with his rapid breathing, the sweat springing out anew.
Julius heard a noise behind him and turned, seeing Maverick and me in the room for the first time. He grinned at us, turned off the vibrator and dropped it to let it dangle. He came to the door, chuckled quietly, and said, "I just came in because Sandy told me they had some Purity peaches in here. Turned out they were just regular peaches. He probably doesn't know the difference. But this was a lot more fun anyway."
I blinked in surprise. "Purity peaches?" The term brought back a memory I hadn't thought of in years.
"Yeah, we used to get them for snacks at home. My dad never knew why they called them that. But they were really good."
Funny you should mention it, I thought. I happen to know where they come from. I was about to start an explanation that would have turned into a longer story than Julius probably wanted, but at that moment Zuchter, who had probably recognized my voice, began weakly struggling with the ropes again, and mmmmphing against his gag. I grinned at Julius. "We better get him out of that. Talk to you later."
"Okay." Julius gave me a smile and departed through the door.
Maverick walked over to Zuchter. In a conversational voice, he said, "Did you have a nice time, sweety?"
Zuchter stopped wriggling, and sighed. Very softly, he purred, "Mmm-hmm."
Maverick began untying the ropes, while I retrieved a spray bottle of cleaner. After Maverick had freed Zuchter, I wiped down the table's surface and dried it with a towel. I put the bottle back, then came back over to help Maverick support Zuchter, who was too drained to stand on his own.
As we guided a staggering, still-naked Zuchter back toward his room, Maverick asked, "So how many new friends did you make?"
Zuchter giggled. His speech was slightly slurred, his brain fuzzy after two hours of continuous sexual stimulation. I knew that the feeling of being helplessly restrained, and available for anyone's use as a sexual toy, had kept Zuchter constantly buzzed even when he'd been alone. "Five. And I came three times. Don't know if they're friends now, 'cause I don't know who any of them were. Kind of wish I did, now. 'Specially the one who made me come twice." He giggled again. " 'S funny, none of them went and brought a bunch of people in. Thought I might end up with a big crowd around me. Scared me a little. But they all decided I was... like their private little game." Another giggle.
I shook my head, grinning. "Must be something in the psychology of Hanging Boys. We should do a study."
Maverick raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Think we just did, hon."
In the Second Year hallway, Jasper came out of his room and stopped suddenly when he saw Zuchter. "Zuchter, are you all right? Do you need any help?"
Zuchter gave him a sideways grin, still leaning on Maverick and me. "No, no, I'm okay, Jas, really. Better than okay." Still another giggle.
Jasper gave me a seriously puzzled look. Though alcohol and any form of recreational drugs were completely unavailable inside the Academy, Zuchter looked for all the world as if he'd been on an all-night bender. Jasper turned to me and asked, "So he's really okay?"
I grinned at him. "Like he said."
We had reached the door to Zuchter's and Marcus's room. Zuchter said to Jasper, "I'll tell you about it later. Maybe. Need a little rest now."
I pushed the door open, and saw Marcus at his desk, studying. He looked up, and smiled as always when he saw me. "Hi... oh!" He blinked when he saw Zuchter. Reading Zuchter's expression, Marcus said to me, "So... I should assume he liked it, whatever it was you did?"
I flashed Marcus a special, fond smile. "I think you could say that."
We were about to ease Zuchter down to the bed he shared with Marcus, when the stallion suddenly put his arms around Maverick. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He kissed Maverick, hard.
Maverick returned the hug, and stroked Zuchter's hair as he kissed him. "Anytime."
I took one of the chairs in Wallace's and Lucas's room. Maverick turned to me and said, "So will you do most of the talking? You're better at that than I am."
I nodded. "Well, I can start it off, sure. But you need to tell him what you want, and find out how deep his knowledge goes. That's what you're better at. Than anybody."
Maverick grinned. "Well, maybe." He looked at Wallace. "We're all set, here, if you want to call him now."
Wallace, one of the two Dorm parents for the First Year class, thumbed a switch on the dorm intercom. Leaning forward, he spoke into the microphone, quietly. "Holden Maitland, could you come to the dorm parents' room, please?" He sat back and looked at me. "That just went to his room. If he's not there, I'll make the call more general."
I nodded. After no more than sixty seconds, there was a soft tap at the door. Lucas called out, "Come in."
The door opened, and the ocelot Maverick and I had watched in the gym now poked his face in tentatively. I could see him now for the first time, close up and clothed. He was tall and slender, perfectly proportioned for a Hanging Boy, already with the slightly longish neck that the boys all had after a year or two. The bright white of his First Year uniform made his light gray fur seem a little darker, the single color of the fabric contrasting with the boy's spotted fur. Above his anonymous metal "Slave Boy" collar, his reddish-brown hair reminded me of Zeke Hillcrest's — or rather, of Larry's hair in Zeke mode I had never actually met the real Zeke, though it felt as if I had. The headfur was longer than Zeke's, hanging down a couple of inches below the boy's shoulders, framing a face a little more narrow than Zeke's, with a straighter nose and very cute, though at the moment it held a frown of concern, as if the boy thought he might be in some trouble.
Wallace tried to soothe Holden's worry with a friendly smile. "Come in, Holden. There are a couple of graduates who wanted to meet you."
Wallace began an arm gesture to indicate Maverick and me, but the boy suddenly clapped his hands to his face, his eyes wide. He stammered, "Are, are... You're Wynn and Maverick! Right? One of the Second Year boys pointed you out to me. The upper class boys talk about you all the time!"
Neither of us had met most of the First Year boys yet. Maverick had suggested doing an early demonstration of the current hanging choreography for them, but I had worried that it might intimidate them, so early in their training. Both of us would, within about the next two weeks, start conducting classes for the First Years, but we wanted to wait until the boys had the basic hanging fundamentals down first.
I smiled at Holden and took the hand he was now absently offering in both of mine. "Yes, I'm Wynn, and it's really nice meeting you, Holden. Maverick and I watched you in your hanging class today, and we wanted to find out a little about you."
Maverick rose, smiling, and offered a hand to the ocelot. He took it and blindly slumped into a seat, murmuring as he did so, "I've heard all about the shows you do at the parties. One of the Second Year boys described it, and I was like, oh, come on, you can't do that, but enough of them were all saying the same thing, I guess it must be true." His initial shyness was fading, and he was babbling nervously instead.
As Holden ran down, Maverick sat again, resting his chin on one hand, elbow propped on the table. His eyes were taking on that focused look. "How long have you been hanging, Holden?"
Holden, relaxed slightly, as if talking about his own hanging made him feel more at home. "I guess it's been about five years. My brother Hamish and I wanted to start doing it, and we bugged Daddy about it so much he got us set up with a coach."
I grinned at Maverick. "Well, that sounds familiar."
Maverick smiled back at me, and returned his attention to Holden. "He taught you the basic moves?"
"She. It was a lady, Gloria Taylor. And, well, yeah, she helped us work some stuff out."
I broke in, nodding. "Taught you the head moves and all that?" I did a head roll.
"Well, not that so much. Me and Hamish kind of figured that out beforehand."
Maverick's jaw dropped. "On your own?"
"Yeah. See, I'd been reading some books on physiology, and one night we were watching some hanging videos, you know, from game shows and stuff like that, and I was thinking, you know, the boys who were hanging, when they blacked out, it's not so much that they couldn't breathe, I mean, people can hold their breath longer than these boys were lasting. It must be that the rope was cutting off the blood to their head. You know, through the carotids." He brushed the backs of his fingers along the side of his neck to demonstrate. "And I knew Hanging Boys can go on so much longer than amateurs, so I decided they must be getting around that somehow. When Gloria started working with us, and I saw how hanging felt, I started trying to wriggle my head around to take the pressure off the carotids. Hamish asked me what I was doing, and I told him about it. Gloria helped us a lot with using our kicking to help make it all go smoother."
I looked at Maverick wide-eyed, and then back at Holden. "What about the other moves? The..." I made a little hip thrust to symbolize the amazing series of moves we had seen Holden doing.
"Oh!" Holden laughed, one hand covering his mouth momentarily. "Hamish started doing that, you know, just kind of goofing. I wanted to do it better than him, so, you know, we kind of started pushing each other to try to do it better."
I squinted at him. "How old is Hamish?"
"He's a year younger than me. He'll be here next year." Holden said this with absolute assurance. In the face of rigorous admission standards that discouraged most high school boys from bothering to apply to the Academy, and that rejected more than eighty percent of those who did apply, it was obvious to Holden — beyond question — that his brother would join him as a student in another year.
And I can't say I doubt it either, I thought.
Holden went on, "We've got another brother, Hayden. He's twelve, now. He wants to be a Hanging Boy when he's old enough, too. We've had him reading some books, and Hamish is going to start him out on the hanging basics over the next year, before Hamish comes here." Holden frowned, a sad look momentarily taking over his face. "I wish I could be there. I can go home and see him in a couple of years, right?"
I nodded. "One year, actually. You can have brief home visits starting in your Second Year. They'd have to be supervised, but you can visit on your own starting in the Third Year."
Holden responded, "That's what I read, but I want to go with Hamish, so I'd wait for that." He looked down at the floor. "I really miss him." He palmed a tear away. "We knew this would be the hard part, being apart for a year."
I marveled at how different sibling relationships can be. Especially contrasting this ocelot's brother vs. Andrew. How different would my life have been if Andrew had been a mentsch?
I hauled myself back into the real world. I looked at Maverick, and gave him a "so do we want to do this?" look. Maverick nodded vigorously. "Oh, definitely."
I turned back to face the ocelot. "Holden, the reason we wanted to meet you is that we'd like to do some special training sessions with you. We want you to still go to all your classes, but this will be something extra. Are you interested in that?"
Holden's eyes grew wide, as he looked back and forth between the two Hanging Boy legends. "You want to work with me?"
I laughed. "Yes, of course you! Holden, I know you just got here, but... well, haven't you noticed you can do things your classmates can't come close to doing?"
"Well... I mean, I just figured maybe I had a little head start, and they'd catch up..." He paused uncertainly.
"And in class, like the science classes, and the rest... you know the answers, right? Like that." I snapped my fingers.
"It's just I've read most of this stuff before..."
I smiled and shook my head. "Holden, look. Maverick and I have seen six Hanging Boy classes now. Two that were ahead of us, and our own, and now three that have come after us. And I know I've only seen two boys, in all those classes, who had 'Hanging Boy' written so deep inside them that it glowed from them with every move. Maverick is one of them, and I've just now met the other one." I chuckled. "Me, I just try hard, and I manage to keep up."
Maverick rolled his eyes. "Wynn..."
Holden's jaw dropped. "Y-you're saying... I'm..."
Maverick laughed. "Don't go all big-headed on us. I've still got some things to show you."
Holden, his eyes wide, said in a tiny voice, "I'm sure."
I pressed him. "So are you willing? Oh, in case you're worried we'd kind of be ganging up on you, it wouldn't just be you. You'd be in a class with two other boys, Second Years named Marcus and Zuchter. What we want to do is see if we can help you be the leaders of the growth movement. You wouldn't know this, but for years and years, Hanging Boys all learned one set of techniques, one standard choreography. We've been changing that, and there are a lot of exciting new things going on. The Dean has told us he wants us to make sure that can keep happening after we're hanged. We've settled on Marcus for his purity and smoothness of form, Zuchter for his creativity, and we'd like you to be part of it, also for creativity — you and Zuchter can bounce ideas off each other — and for... well, a special quality, we don't know what to call it. For 'Maverickness,' I guess."
Maverick covered his face, and from behind his hands groaned a muffled, "Wynn."
I laughed. "I know, you'll get me back for that later. But you said you wanted me to do the talking." I turned back to Holden. "So would you be interested?"
Holden was breathing rapidly, his mouth open. At first he didn't seem to realize that I was waiting on an answer. After a long pause, he blurted out, "Oh yes, yes!! I would love that. And thank you, so much!"
I took both of Holden's hands. "I'm so glad! We'll give you a reading list tomorrow, and figure out times to meet as a group, sometimes for discussions, sometimes for physical training. Listen, could you write down your schedule of classes? We'll need to compare it with Marcus's and Zuchter's and see if we can work around it. We may need to do it in evenings, but we might find some times during the day when we can get together."
"Oh! Sure." His hands moved, as if he expected a pen and paper to be nearby. There was none. At last Wallace fished the necessities out of a drawer and handed them to Holden, who quickly began writing.
He stopped suddenly. "Oh! I just thought. I know I can't ask you for favors or anything..."
I smiled. "Holden, we'll try to do what you need us to do."
"Well, it's not like that, exactly, just something I was thinking. Those party shows you do — I haven't seen one yet, but I'm really looking forward to it — could you... maybe... show Hamish and me how you do it? Teach us to do that?"
I frowned. "Well, the problem is, Maverick and I will both be dead by the time Hamish gets here. If everything goes as planned."
"Oh!!" Holden clapped his hand to his mouth. "I just wasn't thinking."
Maverick broke in, "Well, wait. This could work. Holden, if we let you watch our practice sessions, so you can see how we work things out, and if we tell you how we did our original training to get to where we were able to do it... do you think you'd be able to teach Hamish when he gets here?"
Holden nodded emphatically. "Definitely! We're always on the same wavelength. We've been teaching each other things for years, and we can always get together on stuff right away."
I cleared my throat. "Ummm... Holden, just to make sure you understand. When Maverick and I do a show, it gets really very intimate. The premise is always that we're lovers. And to make that really convincing, I've always believed it's essential that we really are lovers. And we almost always end up cumming."
Holden was nodding. "Sure, I understand that. That's what the older students were telling me about it." He sat receptively, waiting for me get to my point.
I blinked. Yes, sibling relationships certainly could be different from what I was accustomed to. "Okay, that's fine. I just wanted to make sure."
Maverick wanted to know more. "Does Hamish have reddish headfur, too? Or would there be a contrast?"
Holden giggled. "He looks exactly like me! People always ask if we're twins, ever since he caught up with me in height a couple of years ago. They can't believe I'm a year older. Even Gloria kept getting us mixed up."
I grinned at Maverick. "The Dean is going to love this."
"No kidding."
An idea trickled into my head. I tried to brush it aside, but it remained circling like a pesky fly. I finally managed to banish it by promising myself I would return to it later to work out its details.
Holden finished writing his schedule and handed me the paper. "When can we start?" He laughed. "I'm sorry, I just can't wait!"
I laughed with him. "You've got us kind of excited too. But give us a chance to look at this," I held up the paper, "And we'll try to get back with you tomorrow. Okay?"
"Okay! Thank you!" Impulsively, Holden jumped up and hugged me, then Maverick. "I've got to get back and write this in my diary."
"Diary?" I blinked. I couldn't recall any of the boys doing that.
"Oh, since Hamish and me can't talk to each other this year, we're both keeping diaries. Then when he gets here, we'll trade them and read them, so it'll be like we were together the whole time." He brushed another tear aside, then broke into what seemed to be a characteristic grin. "Thank you again, so much! I'll talk to you tomorrow." In a second he was gone, to return just for a moment to softly close the door he'd left standing open. I heard his feet pounding down the hallway afterward.
Maverick broke the bemused silence, saying, "I think we can talk him into it." All four of us started laughing.