The Test
by Jack Kendle


There’s a look of panic in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. You look around uncomfortably, tongue darting out now and again to moisten dry lips. I can almost hear the thumping of your heart, smell the fear on you as you realise that there is no way out – well, that is what you think, but I’ll leave you to squirm for a bit longer before I make my move.

I almost feel sorry for you – almost, but not quite. You only have yourself to blame, I think to myself as I sit, watching you intently. I like watching you at the best of times, but this time is much more fun, almost exciting. I feel like a snake, poised for the kill, or the leopard just before the final lunge. And you are beginning to look more and more helpless.

I think this will work out – to both our advantages.

I feel myself stiffen; not long now before I make my move and you will be at my mercy.

Just you and me.

The door is closed. I took the precaution of locking it behind you as you came in. You were too nervous to notice. The legend on the door will ensure total privacy:



Now you are in your usual place and I in mine. Before you, on the desk lie a few sheets of paper stapled together at the corner. You have known about this exam for the best part of a year and now it has come down to it, you are hopelessly inadequately prepared. We both know it. You thought your good looks and luck of the Irish would save you, but I know that will not get you out of this one. I set the exam myself, and I know for a fact that you won’t be able to get the necessary grade you need. Well, I did warn you, young man! I don’t know how often I told you that you needed to study better, that you had to concentrate on the course work, be diligent. You thought you would be able to wing it – but you won’t my golden boy, oh no! This will be one you won’t be able to wriggle out of. I think you have just realised, now that you’re here and about to turn over the fateful sheets of paper.

Three hours of watching you sweat and squirm!

There’s a look of panic in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. You look around uncomfortably, tongue darting out now and again to moisten dry lips. I can almost hear the thumping of your heart, smell the fear on you as you realise that there is now way out –


I smile encouragingly at you. “You may begin.”

You turn over the sheets of paper and I watch as you visibly pale, staring almost uncomprehendingly for a few seconds at the page, before you raise those impossibly blue eyes to meet my gaze. There’s a look of sheer panic in those sapphire orbs. The tip of your pink tongue darts out between rosy lips, I think there might even be a slight sheen of sweat on your smooth upper lip. I’m now convinced I can hear the thumping of your heart, smell the scent of fear.

Still smiling, I raise my eyebrows in query.

“Everything alright, Edward?”  – knowing full well that it isn’t.

Edward. A princely name. Royal. Your friends call you Eddie, but I find that too prosaic, too everyday. For me you are Edward, and one of my fantasies is being your servant in the Middle Ages, you a royal prince, in velvet doublet, trimmed with ermine, tight-fitting hose showing off the perfectly rounded fleshy globes of your posterior and a codpiece, ornately concealing, yet at the same time almost lewdly accentuating your maleness.

I watch your Adam’s apple bob in your throat, which, I notice will soon need the attentions of a razor. I see that fear has brought goosepimples to your bare forearms, which are covered in a down of very fair hair. Your long, sensitive and slender piano-player’s fingers toy nervously with the corner of the exam-sheets.

You remain mute, eyes wide open, staring fixedly at me, like a young deer caught in headlights.

“You have a question, Edward?”

You seem to take a moment or two to take in my question and then nod, a slight inclination of the head. As you do so, the sun, shining through the window highlights your ash-blond hair, which gleams like a halo – or a crown. An image of us together in a four-poster bed – last night’s fantasy – flashes before my inward eye. I harden even more.

“Bring the paper to me,” I order, feeling disinclined to get out of my seat.

You push your chair back and I follow the contours of your slim teenage body as you stand. Tight white tee-shirt clings to torso, I discern the nubs of your nipples standing out behind the stretched white cotton. Trousers at the hips, riding low, reveal a good three inches of your CK´s, grey today, I note. White basketball pumps loosely laced complete the image as you approach my desk. I have long since stopped disguising the fact that I check out your crotch area and sometimes am rewarded with a glimpse of a promising bulge, particularly when you wear those nice tight jeans. I’m fairly sure you know that I check you out, but you give no sign that it makes you uncomfortable. Today, however, your baggy pants reveal nothing, allowing my imagination to run riot.

I don’t think I’ll long have to imagine what is concealed there…

You come to the desk and I motion you round, to stand closer. Seated, my eyes are at your crotch level, your hidden boyhood mere inches from my face. I notice that the zipper is half-undone, creating a tantalising opening. Accident or design?

“So, Edward,” I begin, tearing my eyes from his crotch to his pale face, my eyes raking across that slim, nubile body of his. I see that two small patches of sweat have appeared at his armpits. The smell of teen boy makes me heady, the musky scent mingled with deodorant and shampoo.

“What seems to be the problem, young Edward?” – I’m still smiling.

“I’ll… I’m, er…” You stop, lost for words, the panic back in your eyes.

“I did warn you, Edward,” I continue, lowering my voice.

“But I need to pass this exam!” Your words tumble out. “If I don’t, then… then…”

“Then you’ll have to do the whole course again,” I finish his sentence for him. “Which means,” I continue, “that you won’t get that place they offered you,” I conclude, making the poor benighted youth face the grim reality of his situation and the importance of the exam he now holds in his slightly trembling hand. I almost feel sorry for the poor lad – almost but not quite.

“You brought this upon yourself, you know,” I speak even more softly, my head only a few inches away from his concealed cock – separated from my mouth by just two thin layers of material…

Timing is all. I nearly have you where I want you. Soon time to spring the trap.

You give a slight shake of the head, sigh as you shrug your shoulders in resignation. I wonder what excuse you’ll think up, what little speech you’ll give me, to try and get my sympathy. But you know really that there’s now way out, don’t you, my sweet little morsel? You know that for once, the balance of power has shifted. It is now not I who am under your spell, captivated by your stunning beauty and innocent look. Usually it is I who is tongue-tied in your presence, silenced by the incredible beauty and grace you possess. Ready to forgive your every misdemeanour, great or small, bathing in the light of your grateful smile, cheeky retort on lips. I have been so indulgent with you, my sweet little minnow. But now, I hold your future in my hand and there is a price you will have to pay. Have you worked out what that price is?

Just a little while longer, play out the line just a bit more, then reel it in again, slowly and carefully until I have landed you…

Pleading eyes… not long now, I think, before I can make my move, make you an offer you just can’t refuse. Tease you just a little longer, play on your desperation, which I see mounting.

I lean back in my chair, hands behind my head, feeling in control, at ease. Pulling back, I again take in his perfect form, those inches of underwear I see above the waistline of your pants are such a turn-on, I can’t help licking my lips. My eyes flicker further down one more time, the gap in your flies seeming to invite me in, beckoning…

“So what’s to be done, young Edward?” I ask. The question is, of course, purely rhetorical, but as they say, give a man enough rope… or rather boy. I idly wonder if you are beginning to glimpse a way out of your, shall we call it predicament?

“Maybe if I revise like crazy, take extra coaching, I could take it next week?” The request is desperate, futile and you know it, even before you finish asking.

My expression says it all.

“You know that’s not possible. The exam has to be taken today, although I do not have to send the paper for another month or so, it must be completed today and sealed in the envelope. You already know this, Edward. You are clutching at straws, young man!”

Your shoulders droop. Should I put you out of your misery, make my proposal now? I had wondered whether you might be the first to suggest it – to my mind, the obvious way out – but so far you haven’t. Perhaps a little nudge in the right direction?

“You need this really badly, don’t you, Edward?” My tone has softened, I give him my look of sympathy.

“You have no idea, sir!”

“Oh I do, Edward, I do!” I pause for a moment, as if in deep thought. Inwardly, I count the seconds, timing is all; five, four, three two, one…

“I wish I could help you Edward. I wish there was something I could do… (five, four, three, two, one…) do you have any idea how we could solve this?”

I fix him with my gaze, waiting… Gradually, his eyes lose their look of panic, he seems to relax visibly and a slight flush colours his smooth alabaster cheeks. He looks down at me, takes a small step closer.

“I think so, sir…” he whispers. Holding my gaze, his left hand slowly moves down to the waistband of his pants, now thumb and forefinger lightly grip the errant zipper…

The fish has taken the bait. Now it is time to reel him in, ever so slowly, ever so gently, so much so that he hardly realises he has been caught.

He has arrived at a very important decision, in my opinion the only right one. But it must be his decision. After all, it’s his future that is at stake. He knows how important this for him and he now realises what he needs, what he wants to do.

As I watch his hand move slowly downwards, I know that life is about to become most enjoyable!

Good boy! Ten out of ten, Edward!

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