We’re forced to exercise daily on the school track for 45 minutes. Twenty slaves, drilled by eight merciless Mistresses. One Mistress calls the commands and we obey: Up! Down! Push-ups! Faster! Faster! Stand up! Drop down! Knee bends! Faster! Stand up! Drop down! Stand up! Frog-jumps! Faster! Faster!
Imagine doing all that in the summer heat or, even worse, in a muddy field with deep puddles!
I for one dread it more than anything, because sometimes they focus their attention on you, and you alone. They will be standing around you in a circle, shouting orders and commands. I don’t know about you man, but for me that’s enough to shit my pants. Which is a bad idea altogether, especially while squatting.
Sometimes they use stimuli, which, I think, is a fancy word for torture devices. Last week for example, we were forced to jump up and down with clamps on our nipples. Man, that hurt! The week before that we were forced to do a five-kilometer run over rugged terrain with rough hemp ropes tied around our balls.
They want to keep us fit and healthy, they say. Which is funny, because they use their whips freely and there are more scars, scratches and impact craters on my back then on the fucking moon! I’m not allowed to say that oud loud of course, because before you know it I’m forced to do 100 bullwhipped push-ups, 200 face-slapped sit-ups and 150 ballbusting jumps!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *