By Endorphin
Copyright 2025 by Endorphin, all rights reserved
[6,150 words]
*
* * * *
This
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
nudity,
spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for
the
purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be
attempted
in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not
of legal age in your community to read or
view
such material, please leave now.
Introduction
Hello, my name is Richard
Atkins and I hate to have to admit it but around 60 years ago, as a
fourteen and a half year old teenager I was sent to Borstal for twenty
months. It was all very embarrassing and not at all a pleasant way to
spend nearly 2 years, but I certainly learnt from the experience!
Although it was only the start of October, many shops were selling
fireworks to anyone, irrespective of their age, in the run‑up to
Bonfire Night (November 5th). Despite my lower middle‑class
upbringing I was a bit of a tearaway at that time. I had bought a
couple of rockets and out of pure devilment set one off in a
residential street to fly along just above the road. About 100 yards
ahead of me there happened to be a milkman doing his rounds with his
horse‑drawn cart well stocked with glass bottles of milk. Concentrating
on the rocket, I didn’t really notice him but he’d just got off the
cart and was delivering to an adjacent house when I released the
rocket, which exploded with a loud bang and a shower of coloured sparks
just behind the cart.
The horse, which had been placidly
standing there, not tethered as it was used to the stop‑start nature of
the milk round, was spooked by this unexpected explosion and bolted,
pulling the cart behind him. The cart’s wheels hit the kerb and the
whole cart toppled over leaving behind a trail of smashed bottles and
lots of spilt milk – to say that the milkman was annoyed would be an
understatement! He rushed out and grabbed me by my left ear while
several passers‑by grabbed my arms. I had no means of escape. It was
just my luck that the house to which milk had just been delivered was
one of the few at the time with a telephone, which was used to call the
police.
It only took a few minutes for a policeman to arrive
and after a short briefing from the milkman and bystanders I was
formally arrested and taken to the Police Station where I was thrown
into a cell while they did their paperwork and called my parents. My
father was at work but my mother arrived, as an adult was required to
be with me during questioning and at the Court. That afternoon I was up
in front of the Magistrates in the Juvenile Court. There were 4 charges
against me: ‘Causing a Public Nuisance’; ‘Discharging a firework in a
public street’; ‘Putting the life of a horse at risk’ and ‘Criminal
Damage’ (the broken bottles and lost milk, as well as the severely
damaged cart). With so many witnesses it was no surprise that I was
convicted, but the Magistrates wanted to know more about my background
before sentencing me. I was therefore temporarily bailed into the care
of my parents.
Once home I was sent straight to my room to
await my father’s return from work. Having been spanked several times
before by Dad I thought I knew what was coming! Dad, having been fully
briefed by Mum, entered my room and pulled the straight‑backed chair
into the middle of the room. He sat down on the chair and made me stand
before him and give my side of the story; I dared not try to lie and
owned up to my guilt, although I did say that I had not realized that
the horse and cart were there.
I was made to remove my shoes,
trousers and shirt (as was normal for punishment by Dad). Dad pulled my
underpants up tightly to lie smoothly over my buttocks with no slack.
He had me lay over his knees where he held me down with a hand planted
firmly in the middle of my back. I lost count of how many swats he gave
me as he spanked me with his strong, rough workman’s right hand for
several minutes.
My buttocks were already aching a lot from
this treatment when I was released from Dad’s lap and made to stand
before him again, now with my hands on my head. He reached out and
yanked my pants down to my knees, from where they fell to my ankles and
I was instructed to remove them completely.
I stood there
naked apart from my socks, with my well‑developed penis and scrotum
directly in his line of sight. Oh, how embarrassing! He’d never totally
stripped me before for a spanking. I was soon back over his knees but
this time my exposed genitals fell between his opened legs, which he
then closed together trapping and squashing them to add to my pain.
I was given 25 swats on each of my already red buttocks with a solid
wood‑backed bath brush. I had been determined not to make a sound as
Dad punished me but this onslaught was just too much to bear and I was
soon blubbing – but Dad just carried on until, by the end, I was almost
screaming with the pain in my tortured bum that seemed to be on fire.
Dad must have been very annoyed, as I’d ever been hit that much before.
Dad finally released me and ordered me to put on my pyjama trousers.
The flannelette material felt rough on my well‑spanked buttocks,
despite it really being quite a soft cloth. I was denied the usual
pyjama jacket and sent straight to bed without an evening meal. I
usually sleep on my back but that night had to sleep on my side as it
hurt too much to have my very sore bum pressed into the mattress.
A week after my first appearance at the Court, I was back again for
sentencing. The Magistrates had found nothing in my background to
soften my sentence, which was for twenty months in Borstal. Since I was
under 18 and still a Juvenile with no funds of my own, my parents had
to pay for the damages to the Cart and its stock of milk. They were
very annoyed as my father was not well paid as a building labourer, all
be it a foreman.
I lived a few miles outside Liverpool but was
sent to H.M. Borstal Ravenmoor in North Yorkshire. This was miles from
anywhere – way out on the Moors; should a boy manage somehow to escape
there was nowhere to hide and no public transport for a rapid getaway,
so the Borstal’s guard dogs would soon track him down! On his return
he’d be put in solitary confinement and be subjected to severe corporal
punishment – Borstal style.
It was quite late at night when I,
along with another convicted boy, arrived at Ravenmoor and each of us
boys was just locked in a separate holding cell overnight in the
Induction Unit. The cell had a bed with a mattress, pillow and a single
blanket. On a shelf there were two single‑serving packets of corn
flakes, some tea bags, strips of sugar and a small carton of milk. An
accompanying note indicated that these were supper and breakfast for me.
Having relieved myself into the very exposed toilet bowl in the corner
of the cell I ate the inadequate supper and, exhausted from the
journey, lay down on the bed. Before falling asleep I heard the sounds
of more boys arriving and being similarly locked into their own holding
cells. The next thing I heard was a loud bell ringing to wake us. I did
still have my watch and found that it was now 7am. I got up, splashed
some water on my face to wake myself properly and ate breakfast. The
real action of induction started soon after 8am when the day shift of
warders had arrived.
Induction
We
were processed one by one; I was the second boy of the group to be
processed. I can only assume that the other boys were treated the same
as I was and can only record what happened to me. From my holding cell
I was taken to the main desk where my property (that had been taken
from me at the Court) was displayed on the counter. I had to confirm
that it was all there and sign the listing of it before it was bagged
up and locked in a safe area. I was photographed (head and shoulders
only) and fingerprinted again, then issued with a Prisoner ID card
which I was to carry at all times on a cord around my neck. I could see
from it that I had been allocated a Prisoner number of B5603RK.
The next stop was for a strip search. One by one my clothes (including
shoes and socks) were removed, checked by the Officers to see that no
contraband was hidden in them and put away in a box with my prisoner
number on it (this would be stored and its contents returned to me on
my release). Eventually even my Y‑fronts had to be removed and I was
standing there very embarrassingly totally naked before the four
Officers. I’d never before been fully naked in front of anyone – except
for my recent chastisement by my father – since I was about 8 years
old! I now had to submit to internal checks to see that I wasn’t hiding
anything in my orifices. One of the Officers looked inside my mouth and
then roughly pushed my foreskin back to check there. Finally a gloved
finger was inserted into my anus. Nothing was found so I was then
taken, still totally naked, to see the barber.
The chair was
very different from ones I was used to and restraints were applied to
hold me in it as soon as I sat down. Almost all my curly blond hair, of
which I was so proud, was shorn off leaving me with only very short
stubble there (a Number 1 Crew Cut). When I complained about losing my
curly locks I was told that all inmates had their hair cut like that
throughout their time in confinement for reasons of conformity and
hygiene (it stopped head lice which were quite common in those days,
particularly among kids of the lower classes who also happened to form
the majority of inmates).
As soon as my haircut was complete I
was blindfolded and additional restraining blocks stopped me moving my
head. An electric motor re‑configured the chair into a sort of bed,
with me lying almost flat on it. I felt my lower lip being grasped at
either side by some instruments with which it was then pulled back,
exposing its inner side. I heard a buzzing sound and then felt what
seemed like dozens of needles pricking the tender flesh inside my lip
while a very nasty taste filled my mouth. I later discovered that they
had tattooed my prisoner number inside my lip. While the tattooist was
working in my mouth the barber shaved off all my pubes leaving my whole
genital area totally denuded and looking like that of a pre‑pubescent
kid. The bed was returned to being a chair, my blindfold and restraints
were removed and – still naked – I was taken to have a shower.
The shower room had three separate showerheads on one wall with no
dividers between them nor curtains to give any privacy. On the opposite
wall was a long bench with a towel placed opposite each showerhead. The
water was only lukewarm and I had to use a bar of soap instead of the
body wash that I had at home. I was also being embarrassingly watched
by two of the warders.
Once I had dried off the two Warders
took me along to the medical suite. There I had to sit, still naked, on
one of the cold metal chairs in the waiting area until the doctor was
ready.
The Medical
To my great
embarrassment, the first thing that happened there was to have my naked
body comprehensively photographed from every angle. These pictures
would remain in my files indefinitely.
I was then quizzed
about any ailments that I currently had, or had previously had,
weighed, and my height was measured along with my chest, waist and
inside leg. These were followed by the usual tests with the icy cold
stethoscope (I don’t know how doctors manage to keep the ‘business end’
so constantly cold!)
As he worked, the doctor called out the
results to an assistant who noted them on my record forms. I didn’t
know it at the time but one of these was a standard form for the doctor
to complete as a record of my body and to certify that I was fit to
receive the sort of punishments to which all boys could be subjected.
This form would forever be available in my general record for any of
the Officers to see, while the more detailed forms were confidential to
the Medical department.
The doctor started looking very
carefully all over my body. He could clearly see some small scars on my
face from when I’d scratched at the itchy spots, having caught
Chickenpox as a young child. When looking at my arms he commented that
he couldn’t see a Smallpox vaccination mark and asked me about it. I
didn’t know what vaccinations I’d been given as a baby but did know
that most boys in my class at secondary school had a white scar (I knew
not for what) on the top of their left arm but I didn’t have one,
however I’d never been curious enough to ask my parents about it. I
also knew that, soon after starting at that school, a form had been
sent home with every boy in my class for parents to complete and return
in a sealed envelope. A short while later everyone except me and two
other boys were lined up outside the school medical room to be given
the first of three injections of a relatively new Salk vaccine against
Polio – apparently my parents had refused it for me.
The
Borstal doctor now inserted a needle into my right forearm and several
vials of blood were collected. I was next required to give a urine
sample. It can be hard enough at any time to urinate on demand but even
more so when one is totally naked and being embarrassingly watched
closely by the doctor, (male) nurse, the assistant keeping the records
and the two Warders. The nurse turned on a tap at the sink and the
sound of running water did the trick so that I nearly filled the
collecting jar.
The doctor prodded and poked all over me,
eventually reaching my genitals. My long foreskin was roughly forced
back again, stretching my frenulum uncomfortably. He fingered this,
eliciting an erection that made me even more mortified to be erect in
front of them – but more embarrassment was to come as he inserted his
gloved finger into my anus and felt around for my prostate. He so
stimulated it that I involuntarily shot out a load of semen. This had
obviously been the object as the male nurse expertly caught it in a jar
to later be examined under the microscope to see how fertile I was.
If you are a male, you will well know that immediately after
ejaculation your balls are more sensitive than usual. The doctor lost
no time in taking them in his hands, feeling all over them and then
giving them a very tight squeeze – eliciting a cry of pain from me.
Having examined, handled and noted as much as possible about my body I
was next given 5 vaccination injections into the muscles of my arms,
thighs and buttocks. These turned out to be individual shots against
Diphtheria, Tetanus, Whooping Cough (Pertussis), Polio and Chickenpox.
As I said, unlike most boys and girls at the time, I’d not had a
smallpox vaccination as a baby. A quantity of the liquid was put onto
my upper left arm just above the middle of it and scratched well in
with a special tool, looking a bit like a miniature garden rake, that
had three tines to drag across the liquid, ensuring that most of it
entered my arm through the scratches, where it would later produce a
large, puckered white scar. As this process was being repeated on my
right arm the nurse asked the doctor if one insertion each side was
going to be enough to give me full protection since I’d not been primed
with a vaccination as a baby – unlike almost every other boy they’d
seen for several years. The doctor replied that it probably was, but
there would be no harm in giving me an extra insertion each side, which
he did so that, when healed, I ended up with two very large Smallpox
vaccination scars at the top of each arm!
A fairly new vaccine called BCG (to protect against Tuberculosis) was being given to children in the 4th year at my school. I was in the 3rd year
and so this had not yet been offered to me. The Borstal doctor gave me
two BCG injections into each arm just under the skin a little above my
elbows. When these later settled down, I would find two more permanent
large white scars on each arm where these injections had been given.
Circumcision
After being vaccinated I was told to lie on the couch where I was
strapped down tightly. The head end of the couch was then raised so
that I was looking down at my crotch and I was instructed to watch
closely what was being done for me. (Note that the doctor said it was
being ‘done for me’ and not ‘done to me’; something
I didn’t appreciate one little bit at the time but with hindsight I
realize that it was indeed for my long‑term good despite the
accompanying severe pain).
The doctor painfully seized the tip
of my long foreskin in some forceps and folded it right back. The nurse
cleaned the inside with antiseptic wipes to remove the inevitable
build‑up of smegma before painting the whole area, from my slightly
‘innie’ navel to half way down my thighs, with a dark brown antiseptic.
A sterile sheet was put over the area and my penis was pulled through a
hole in it.
With the forceps again holding my foreskin right
back and my penis lying over my stomach area, the doctor proceeded to
carve out my frenulum, undercutting it on each side and then across the
ends. Because I’d not been given any anaesthetic this cutting was very
painful and I was crying out for it to stop. Far from stopping, the
nurse simply put a gag in my mouth to silence me. Once the cord of the
frenulum had been removed, the groove it left was bleeding a lot. The
doctor used an almost red hot ‘V’ shaped metal block to cauterise the
groove, sealing the bleeding points and making me scream into my gag
from the extreme pain as the heat seared deep into my tender glans.
What I would only learn much later, when all was healed, was that it
was also deliberately destroying the nerves in that area, so I would
never again get any sexual pleasure from there.
With his
scalpel, the doctor then cut neatly through the inner foreskin, just a
couple of millimetres behind my glans, before the nurse tightly pulled
the rest of the foreskin well forward over the glans. The doctor marked
the location of the underlying glans rim on it and then, with tension
released, used scissors to roughly cut away the outer layer just behind
this line, peeling off the entire inner and outer foreskin along with a
bit of my shaft skin.
The two cut edges were stitched
together, pulling the skin on my penis very tight and even making my
scrotum lift a bit. I would later find that using scissors rather than
a scalpel meant that the cut line was somewhat jagged rather than being
a neat circle around the penis shaft. Although sat in the sulcus rather
than half way up my shaft, the resulting scar was therefore jagged,
rough, quite wide and very prominent – proclaiming to all who saw it
that my penis had been deliberately and roughly modified!
The
final thing that was done to my penis was to cut my piss slit (which I
now know to be called the meatus) much wider open causing yet more
pain. A dressing was applied, temporarily hiding what had been so
painfully done to my prized possession.
When my gag was
removed and I was released from the couch I protested saying, “There
was nothing wrong with my foreskin, I didn’t need ... didn’t want to be circumcised. Why have you done this to me?”
The doctor said, “It’s a Borstal Rule that all boys must be vaccinated
and circumcised on entry. It keeps you cleaner and healthier as well as
protecting the whole Borstal community. It also ensures conformity,
stopping one source of bullying.” Then taking hold of my balls and
again squeezing them painfully he continued, “You should think yourself
lucky I only removed your useless foreskin and didn’t cut these off as
well. If I had my way, I’d castrate all you criminal boys so that you
can’t reproduce and flood the country with more criminals.”
I
had previously obtained lots of nightly pleasure from masturbating with
my long, but loose, foreskin stimulating my glans as I slid it back and
forth across the sensitive coronal rim. I would discover that this
radical circumcision had made masturbation difficult and no longer very
pleasurable – the real reason they so radically circumcised all inmates!
Hospital Cell
With the medical finished, Warders took me upstairs into a part of the
Borstal hospital wing reserved for newly circumcised boys. The cell
that I was put into had a transparent door so that I continued to have
absolutely no privacy. The none‑to‑comfy looking single bed was bare
apart from a mattress and pillow. On it there was a pile of bed linen
(two sheets, a pillow case, blanket and towel – but still no clothing!)
and three bags. One bag contained toiletries – body wash, shampoo,
toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, disposable razor and a roll of toilet
paper, while the second had a plastic plate, mug and cutlery. The third
bag had some foodstuff, including a 1‑pint carton of milk, a
one‑portion box of cereal, tea bags, coffee, sugar and a bar of
chocolate.
As, with some difficulty, I made my bed (a job that
Mum usually did for me at home), I took stock of the room. A small
table, a plastic chair, a doorless shelving unit for my things, a fixed
metal washbasin with a steel mirror above it and a stainless steel
toilet basin, with no proper seat. There was no curtain around it and,
being directly opposite the door, anyone looking in would be able to
see me doing my business. I was used to all the usual home comforts
with the bath, shower and toilet all behind lockable doors. Not since I
was a little boy being toilet trained had I been seen having a shit
(except just once accidentally by one of my parents when I was aged
about 8 and forgot to lock the door; not the world and his dog as was
the case here) – all so horrible and embarrassing, but then the aim of
Borstal was to give you such a shock that you’d want to reform so as to
never have to come back! I would certainly learn my lesson there and
never again offended.
What I didn’t know was that down in the
medical room the doctor and nurse were tidying up and preparing to do
the same things to another boy. As he tipped my removed foreskin into
the medical waste, the nurse commented, “I think that’s one of the
largest amounts of foreskin we’ve ever cut off a boy. You did a very
good job there and he’s really going to miss it!”
The doctor
replied, “Indeed, I think I excelled myself with that one; he was such
an attractive lad that I really wanted to mess him up! His smallpox
vaccination scars will be so prominent on his arms. The BCG ones should
also be satisfyingly large, and always be clearly visible below short
shirt sleeves.”
“The circumcision scar will also stand out as
I made sure it wouldn’t be a neat, narrow, feint one but ugly, jagged
and prominent. He’ll really notice the tightness when he gets his first
erection; it should be very uncomfortable for him – even quite painful
with a bit of luck! I’ll be having a look at him in a couple of days to
see how he’s progressing and, of course, will get a good idea of the
final result when I take his stitches out in two weeks time. Are we
ready for the next boy? I want to see if I can skin him even more
thoroughly!”
Upstairs, my bed making was interrupted when a
Warder appeared outside the door and pushed some papers under it. There
was a booklet entitled, ‘Borstal Rules – To be obeyed at all times by
inmates’; another sheet was for me to order my meals, giving a choice
of three main courses and two desserts each day for the rest of the
week. According to what had already been filled in on it, I was in cell
‘H-W2-11’ (I’d later understand that it meant Hospital Wing – Ward 2 –
cell 11).
They had taken away my watch with my clothes and
other possessions; no clock was in sight but I estimated that about an
hour and a half after I was put there another naked boy with a bandaged
penis was brought past my door and I heard a neighbouring cell door
slam shut. After a further similar time a fourth boy was likewise
locked in a nearby cell. It was clear from the bandages on their
penises that they too had just been circumcised.
When I was
able to talk to the group during exercise time, two said that they
previously had a fully working foreskin that had been sliced off them
for no medical reason at all – just like mine! All resented having this
done to them. Things were slightly different though for the third boy.
He was Jewish and had been circumcised at 8 days old as his religion
required. However, the doctor here noted that, having been done as a
baby, he still had some inner foreskin and a frenulum; so the doctor
cut them off too, further modifying his penis to fairly closely match
what had so cruelly been done to ours.
The Showers & Toilets
There was a shower room, with no external door, at the end of the Ward
which, after the first two days, we were required to use every morning
after breakfast. Unlike school, where one had some limited privacy in
the showers, the room was totally open with shower heads mounted on 5
poles – six heads to each pole. We were thus in very close proximity to
5 other naked inmates and could, of course, clearly see all the others
around their poles too – there was no way to hide and there was also
always at least one Officer watching us shower. Oh, the embarrassment –
especially if one got a boner! It was also perfectly clear that every
boy had been vaccinated and circumcised.
In an adjacent toilet
room there was a long trough urinal able to accommodate up to 10 boys
at a time. On the opposite side was a row of 5 toilet bowls with no
additional door, nor dividers between them so anyone could see you
having your shit. For a teen boy like me who, being in puberty at the
time, was quite shy of having his naked body seen, let alone being seen
‘doing his business’, this was an absolute nightmare – but of course,
all part of the Borstal’s object of breaking us down and controlling
our every move to make us compliant and better citizens.
Two Days After My Medical
Two days after initial examination and circumcision I was required to
see the doctor again. He removed the bandage from my penis and closely
examined his handiwork. Pronouncing himself satisfied that all was well
with my circumcision, and that my vaccinations for Smallpox and BCG
were progressing well, he re‑dressed my penis and dismissed me. I was
told to ask to see the doctor if I had any problems with the
circumcision or vaccinations but otherwise I would be called after 2
weeks to have the stitches removed. At this point I was given
instructions and more materials to change the dressings for myself
every two days. I was also given some XXL condoms to wear in the
showers if the dressing was not being changed at that time.
Stitch Removal
When my stitches were removed at the 2‑week mark, there was slight
bleeding from a few places and the doctor applied a light dressing that
I was to remove the next day and have no dressings thereafter. With the
stitches out, and before re‑dressing the wound, my circumcised penis
was photographed for the records. For the rest of my time in Borstal
frequent photos were taken of my naked body (or parts thereof) that I
found very embarrassing, especially when my drastically modified
genitals were involved. Even to this day I don’t like photos to show my
penis, although I am now reasonably content with being circumcised –
even though it takes me ages to reach orgasm and I get very little
pleasure on the way – orgasm though, when it eventually comes, is
actually more enjoyable than when I had a foreskin and I now ‘shoot’
further.
For the remainder of my month in the induction unit’s
hospital ward the doctor examined my penis and vaccinations each week
to check on progress of the healing.
We had daily exercise
periods, morning and afternoon where our naked bodies were on close
display not only to the other boys in the medical unit but also to
those in one of the regular cell blocks that overlooked it. It was
clear that the warders enjoyed our embarrassment at being naked and on
display to them and dozens of other lads looking out of their cell
windows.
In a Regular Cell
After 4
weeks of being naked in the ‘goldfish bowl’ like environment of cells
with transparent doors, and with nothing particular to do but read
books; the doctor confirmed that my circumcision and vaccinations were
sufficiently healed for me to leave the Hospital Ward. I was also no
longer to have a dressing on my penis. I was therefore moved that
afternoon to a regular cell in one of the House Blocks.
I had
to strip my hospital bed, fold my bed linen and leave it in a neat pile
on the bed. I was provided with a large, heavy-duty transparent plastic
bag into which to pack all my personal things including my plate, mug,
etc. and my foodstuffs. Still totally naked apart from my ID badge, I
was led out and through the grounds to House Block 3. Although I
couldn’t see most of them, I could feel that the eyes of dozens of
other boys in their cells or exercise yards were embarrassingly on me
and my naked body.
My new cell HB3-2-15 was very similar to
the one in the hospital wing but slightly larger with a solid steel
door having a drop-down hatch (controlled from outside) through which
things could be passed, and a small peephole window – some degree of
privacy at last! However there were bunk beds and I was going to have
to share with another inmate. The lower bunk bed was fully made,
presumably therefore that of my new cellmate. On the bare mattress of
the upper bed was a pile of bedclothes, identical to the minimalist set
in the hospital cell. Next to these was another pile containing two
pairs of thin shorts (with elasticated waists), two sleeveless vests
and a pair of pumps – a form of slippers with a canvas upper and rubber
sole.
There was neither underwear nor socks – indeed we were
never to be allowed to wear anything more than this minimalist
regulation clothing. The shorts and vests were bright orange and
printed on the back in large black letters was ‘HM Borstal Ravenmoor’.
We’d really stand out well if we did manage to escape! Furthermore, it
was very cold on the moors at night and our thin, skimpy clothing would
not keep one warm enough to avoid the very real possibility of being
frozen to death.
I was told that we must continue to sleep
naked to allow our day clothes to air – so come what may, my cellmate
and I were going to get a daily eye-full of each other’s bodies and
modified genitals.
As with the hospital cell, the toilet bowl
was not screened in any way and was clearly visible through the hatch
or peephole in the door (or if the door was open). My cellmate and I
would also have no privacy from one another when doing our business! He
was not there when I arrived as he was having lessons in the education
department so I quickly took advantage of being able to have a shit in
private before he returned.
I quickly put on a vest and shorts
to cover my nakedness. However, having had nothing other than a tight
bandage in contact with my exposed glans, the shorts rubbed on it as I
moved around making my bed. The feeling in my glans was very strange;
the rubbing of the cotton shorts was uncomfortable – almost painful –
but at the same time it caused my penis to stiffen somewhat. This in
turn resulted in stronger rubbing against the cloth and increased
discomfort. Eventually the discomfort and stimulation balanced out
enough for my penis to cease erecting any more. It was only when I
ceased having to move about making the bed and putting things away that
I was also able to lose my erection. ‘Thank goodness,’ I thought, ‘It
would kill me for my new cellmate to see me with an erection; he might
think I was gay!’
Each floor had a shower room very much
larger than that in the Hospital Wing. It had six open pole-showers,
each with six heads around the pole – this time there were even more
boys to have to share and be seen naked! Outside of our cell we were
required to be fully dressed, except when going to/from the
compulsory showers first thing in the morning, when we had to still be
completely naked and carrying our towel, soap/body wash, etc. by our
side. As before, there would always be at least one Warder watching us
showering.
The toilet room next to the shower room was also
very similar to that in the Hospital Block, although much larger to
accommodate more boys. It had a long open trough urinal, toilet bowls
with no doors or dividers, and some washbasins. We could use these at
any time when out of our cell, including en-route to the showers if
we’d forgotten to go in our cell. Woe betides anyone who pissed in the
shower! However, if we used the toilet bowls here for a shit we could
be seen by many more other boys at a time!
Some while later,
when I had my first session in the gym I found that we had to do it
‘gymnos’ (i.e. totally naked) in the fashion of ancient Greece. Yet
more opportunity to embarrass us with nakedness!
For most of
the rest of my time at Borstal, I was glad to be able to wear at least
the shorts to cover my genitals. However even quite minor infractions
of the rules led to some form of corporal punishment, most of it
applied to our naked bodies with as many onlookers as possible. Not
just painful but very embarrassing too!
Although the 20 months
seemed to go quite slowly, the time eventually came for me to leave
Ravenmoor and I was given back my regular clothes to wear. Even this
was still done in such a way as to be as embarrassing as possible in
that I had to completely strip off my Borstal clothes and stand naked
in front of the Warders while they fetched my box of clothes. When I
finally walked out of the Borstal into the real world I had been
changed completely from the tearaway that I had been, into a well
behaved citizen with a respect for others, particularly my seniors.