It was always her call to get the train going.“It’s up to you, darling. You’re in charge” I said.The linesman got to work. She softly clutched...my taut balls with one hand and then dragged the nails of her other hand across my inner thigh up into the super sensitive space between my scrotum and anus. I writhed a little as the tingling pleasure enveloped me. “Might need to plug in a power source”, she said as she pushed her finger into my anus, turning her digit round and making my sphincter. "Wait! I'm not gonna show anybody." At first the boy didn't react to what she said. His mind had already leaped to conclusions. She was going to pass them around the neighborhood, the school! Give them to their parents! He would have to run away somewhere. Then his thoughts were reduced to one word, repeated over and over: Hide! Hide! Hide!Terry repeated herself. "I said, I'M NOT GOING TO SHOW THEM TO ANYBODY!" Jimmy snuffled into his folded arms. His heaving breath slowed. He lifted his head. As if to prove this assertion, Serge proceeded to fuck the boy, repeatedly, for the rest of the night.The next morning, when the rest of the boys came back to camp, Terry didn’t know what to do. If he complained about Serge r****g him, all the other boys would find out about the ‘pussy’ Terry now had between his legs and that would be so embarrassing and humiliating. Terry could just imagine the looks he’d get from then on and the muttered slurs some of the boys were bound to make whenever. He drilled us up and down the ice, running ‘gassers,’ relays, or any other sadistic teaching tool he had at his disposal. He would even fire pucks at players who looked like they weren’t paying attention. To his credit, I suppose it’s important to learn that aspect of the game. Most injuries on the ice are due to players who go half-assed. Some of the other coaches were nice and treated us respectfully. I’ll never forget this one coach. He loved talking about the pro teams he worked for and how.