Town square - part I

The text overlaps the boxes and dialogues placed in the pictures - no need to read both.

The historic old village suffered the problems so many other small towns were facing: local industries going bankrupt and young people fleeing to big cities. One day rich businessman arrived and began pouring money back into the local economy. He practically brought the entire town, public services, and all. Some people saw him as a savior and began to call him „the Owner.” As his influence grew, the townspeople gradually became dependent on him and began to submit to his every whim. As the economy revived, new people arrived to take the good-paying jobs. The Owner had become something of a tyrant and the new workers at first didn’t realize the extent of his power. One such newcomer was Shane, a fanatical believer in the Free Market. He thought, he ended up in a capitalist paradise but soon he noticed drawbacks.

Shane complained about his job. He didn't know why his colleagues work so hard. Jake, the site boss, knew this guy was trouble and was almost certainly going to pay a big price! Almost immediately, Shane started to incite the other workers. At first, they didn’t listen, but as their discontent grew, productivity declined.  Jake knew the Owner was coming back to town.  Frantically, he did his best, but the Owner arrived before Jake could get the guys working again. When the Owner summoned him, he knew there was going to be trouble.

"Tell me, my friend, how is the construction going? How are the new employees doing?", asked the Owner.

"Very good, we are making progress."

"Really? So, they are working hard and being obedient? Tell me the truth. Have you punished any of them, my friend?"

"No, everything is fine", lied Jake.

"Then why are you shaking, my friend? I’ve been in business a long time and I can tell when someone is lying….Hmm…We will decide on your punishment for being deceptive later.  But now I want the truth!"

"Please, forgive me, Sir. I’m really really sorry. There is a new guy…"

Jake came clean about the newbie, but surprisingly the Owner didn’t get angry. In fact, he looked pleased… and intrigued. He phoned the Municipal Police (who were in his pocket) and the construction site. He ordered to bring Shane in front of him:

"… Yes, I want him immediately… What does it mean ’he may resit?’ I don’t care. Bring him here NOW! Yes… Whatever it takes!"

The news spread quickly on the construction site. Colleagues have been fairly distanced and full of doubt, but Shane seemed to be thrilled to bits. Finally, he has a chance to confront the Owner. Friends were clear. They had no intention to help.

Shane burst into the Owner’s office with the only two co-workers who had guts enough to come with him.  He halted in surprise. Jake was kneeling naked and trembling in front of what he could only assume was the Owner. The man in the armchair spoke:

"Good afternoon! You must be one of my new employees. Please. Join us. We are having a little discussion about responsibility.  But, before we begin I thought I’d show you how a good employee behaves. We had trouble with Jake too, at first. But as you can see, he has found his proper place."

Shane started out confidently, but when he glanced back, he was shocked to see the two strong, masculine men cowering behind him, suddenly every bit as submissive as Jake. Undeterred, Shane began to speak:

"We are here to protest. We are all doing the work of two men and we are forced to work half-naked in the sun like slaves without proper tools.  We want a union!"

"A union? You will work naked if I order it!"

"Who do you think, you are? I’m not affraid of you!"

"You should be, my friend. You should be."

"Why? Because you are rich!? We are not your slaves."

"Well, technically you are. And what we do here is to punish stubborn slaves to teach them how to behave."

"Fuck you!"

That was enough. The Owner wasn't used to talk to him like Shane did. Two City Guards stepped menacingly out of the shadows.

"Take him to the square!" 

Everyone except Shane knew what this meant.

The town square was almost empty. Shane had been here once or twice before but had never paid it any attention. This time he saw them: cross, stocks, iron restraints, and whipping post.

Even looking at the whipping post ahead of him, the young worker couldn’t believe that he is in danger of anything other than being fired. Jake tried to warn him, but his stubborn friend didn't listen.

"I ain't scared!"

"Tough talk, but guys who stand up to the Owner get punished hard and it looks like you’re next."

Finally, after city guards tied him up, he believed they are going to beat him for real. However, it didn’t change his attitude. He stared at his colleagues with scornful contempt. The Owner was delaying the whipping, enjoying the view of his victim, appreciating the strong, masculine form before him. Shane was too cocky to show any respect to the whip.

"You can buy whole village, but I won't kneel behind your fucking desires!", he shouted.

"Fine. My friends... Let the show begin", ordered the Owner.

The city guard took the bullwhip. There was complete silence in the town square...

<Story continuation>

Fresh meat

Prisoners locked in their cells listen to new inmates being taught the rules in the prison basement. Prisoner 9734 thought he could make fun of the prison staff. Now he will remember to not mouth off to the guards again. In the days, months, and years to come, prisoner 9734 will take many more whippings as his punishment or just to entertain cruel guards. They will take care of his back making sure he tastes the lash as often as possible.

Prisoner 357

Forgotten Barn

She lay in the dark barn full of discarded and long-lost tools. Her companions were an old ladder, a hay wagon with broken spokes whose glory days had long passed, spiked reins, and a dusty horse collar. Among these were several other items such as a rusted plow with a broken plowshare and an old butter churn. A long bullwhip hung on the wall next to the horse collar. He was used by the master to hurry the horses.

Whip thought of himself as more than just a horse drover. He believed himself to be the most important tool of them all! Thanks to him, the lord could always get quickly wherever he wanted and the field was always well worked.

“Because of me, everyone danced like peacocks at the master’s command!” bragged Whip.

“Your conceit, silly Whip, has unhinged your mind,” the rattan cane laughed. She lay half-hidden in old straw, but spoke with pride.

“You have only ever hit a horse’s hindquarters, while I have beaten many beautiful butts -  more than you ever dreamed!" Her tone was haughty and condescending. She came from distant England and so thought herself to be an aristocrat.

“You are not the only one who saw a lot of naked butts,” The hay wagon modestly joined the conversation. “Remember young Jack? We both taught him a lesson he deserved!”

“How?” asked Whip. “How could a lowly wagon teach him a lesson?”

“Like every late summer, I was ordered to transport hay into the barn,” replied Wagon indignantly. “Jack was the boy who rode me to the field. We had to get there before evening. But one day, instead of setting off, John just slumped to the ground with a sad face.”

“I bet he was waiting to see Jane, the cook’s helper, who worked with us,” sighed Butter Churn. “I got so sick of listening to her silly poems.”

 

Roses are red, violets are blue.
Johnny is so cute, I love you.

 

“Bleeeeh!!!”

“You are right,” said Hay Wagon. “He wanted to catch her on her way home. That day Jane had to stay longer at work, so John waited and waited leaning against my wheel. The young girl didn’t come. It was getting late, but John didn’t care. I was afraid for him. Suddenly, our Lord showed up out of the blue. The boy jumped to his feet and cried out, ‘Good evening Sir! I was about to set off, Sir!’”

“You should already have gone and come back!” The master roared. “This is the second time this has happened, you stubborn, lazy brat!”

“I’m sorry sir.” John tried to apologize. “But then,” exclaimed Cane proudly, “when he saw me in the master’s hand, the boy froze and couldn’t say another word. Shivering with excitement, I waited for that beloved sound. And then it came—‘Strip!’ John was so young and fit I knew our Lord wouldn’t treat him lightly.”

“I still don't understand how Hay Wagon was helpful,” complained Whip.

Indignantly, the wagon explained. “The Lord ordered the boy to get naked. The young hayseed begged for mercy but despite his pleas, we all heard the menace in our lord’s words: ‘I told you to strip. Don’t make me repeat it. With every second of delay, you earn extra strokes!’”

“Resigned, John did as he was told and took off his clothes,” explained Wagon. “Master pointed at me with the cane and said, ‘Climb up and bend over.’ He pushed the boy over my wooden bar, head down inside, legs apart and naked butt sticking out. He tied the boy’s hands so that he was balancing on me in an uncomfortable position.”

“His cheeks were perfectly exposed,” crowed Cane. “When Lord swished me through the air you could see how much it frightened the boy. Did you feel it, Hayrack?”

“Of course, I did!” laughed the wagon.

Cane continued, “The trembling nineteen-year-old followed me with his eyes as I prepared to deliver his punishment. When the Master touched me to his butt, his whole body shivered. ‘First fifty,’ the Lord proclaimed. John gulped and held his breath waiting for the first stroke. His helpless buttocks clenched preparing to receive my bite.”

“And then my wonderful dance began.” Cane sighed wistfully. “Those were the days. It was a real ride! You were very helpful, Hayrack old friend. You held him fast. I remember that he was told to stick out his arse for my pleasure. I think he got seventy lashes on his bare bottom. I whistled as I cut through the air, thrashing his firm, round rump. Our Lord certainly knew how to use me. Each time I connected with the boy’s butt, a long red welt immediately appeared on both cheeks. Under every stroke, I felt his butt tighten with pain.”

“Crack, crack, crack!” Recalled Cane.

“He wriggled his hips and his legs flailed behind him. Every muscle in his body was taut as a bowstring as I weaved a red pattern of agony on this exposed arse. With great relish I slashed across several of the earlier welts, causing the boy great distress.” Cane smiled broadly at the memory.

“He cried out pitifully at each stroke,” added Hay Wagon. “The boy wanted desperately to avoid Cane’s punishment, but I held him so he could only wave his legs and wiggle his arse a little on my bar. John howled after every stroke laid across his exposed buttocks. Tears and sweat flowed down my beams. He shouted, ‘Please! Stop!’ but our Lord only increased the ferocity of the caning.”

“That’s right!” Butter Churn recalled.

“Tirelessly, our Lord laid on strokes with a terrifying fervor that made the boy yelp inagony. Finally, Jane appeared, summoned by Johnny’s screams, and saw your wonderful artwork on his buttocks!” “Did they ever become a couple?” Wondered Cane with amusement.

“All I know,” replied Butter Churn, “is that she stopped thinking up poems about him. Luckily, however, her friends didn’t...

 

Violets are blue, John’s ass is red
He got a thrashing he never forgets

 

At this, they all had a good laugh and Butter Churn said, “Thank you, dear Cane, for these wonderful memories. And thanks to you too, Hayrack.”

Cane nodded her acknowledgement and said, “Since then I have often met Johnny’s buttocks. Master promised him that he would cane him every summer week. And he did! It was my honour to teach this boy what real pain means! I caned him every Saturday night...and I loved it!”

Whip glowered jealously from his place on the wall. He also had a story to tell.

<Next part - Plow story>