Horse-and-tackle shop

Sergey was a muscular, good looking young man in his 20’s. He was given money by his uncle to pay the bills. He lost it gambling and then lied about it.  And for this, he would pay a very high price!

 

When Uncle found out, he became very angry and told him he would be whipped every morning and evening until he paid back the initial amount as well as the unpaid bills.  He also would have to pay for the whip Uncle was going to have to buy.

 

The next day Uncle took his nephew to the local horse-and-tackle shop and asked the man where they stocked the whips.

 

The salesman looked from one to the other and asked, "Is the horse stubborn and naughty?" He was a bald man in late mid 40’s. With dark goatee and leather outfit, he was an imposing figure.  He smiled knowingly.

 

"Yes, he is," replied Uncle.  He liked where this was going.

 

"Other methods of instruction didn't work?”

  

“Nothing seems to work on this foal.”

 

The salesman looked Sergey up and down. “Has he ever been whipped before?"

  

“Yes, but it hasn’t seemed to do much good. He needs something extra painful."

 

Sergey’s mouth opened in surprise.  The salesman winked at the boy.

 

"Compared to other kinds, horse whips can be extra painful without causing serious damage. Sir, if you need a whip to take care of that... foal, I have something special for you, first-class, finest leather.”  

  

“I’d love to see what you have.”

 

The salesman reached under the counter and brought out a fearsome black whip, coiled like a beautiful snake.

 

Just look at the craftsmanship, long and thick, giving maximum pain with every lash!

 

"Perfect! I'll take it!" replied Uncle.

"Just like that?" asked the salesman. "Wouldn't you like to try it out first? You could see how it suits the young skin of that foal and then decide.” The salesman looked meaningfully at the boy. “My shop space is at your disposal."

 

Uncle hesitated a moment, then decided there was no need to pretend that the whip would be used on a real horse.

 

"Agreed!” Uncle turned to the boy. “Sergey, strip!" he ordered.

 

The young man was in shock. He couldn’t believe his uncle was going to punish him in front of a stranger…like an animal!

 

"Come on, boy, don't make me ashamed of you.”

"He is clearly a very stubborn boy. This whip will be perfect for him," said the salesman.

Realizing they meant business, Sergey reluctantly pulled off his T-shirt. The men caressed his young muscular body with their eyes drinking in the V-shaped back, strong biceps, and well-formed pecs.

 

The salesman produced some rope from a shelf.  With a nod from Uncle, he tied the boy's wrists, and then threw the rope over a beam below the ceiling. Pulling on the end, he hoisted the boy's hands over his head. Sergey was forced up on his toes, his body stretched.

"Whip him when you are ready, Sir. I guarantee he will feel it and he will scream. A whip like this can teach the most willful foals to behave.”

 

Uncle stepped back and tested the long horsewhip. It whistled through the air and cracked against the boy's tight skin. Its bite made Sergey jerk and his teeth clench but he didn’t make a sound.

"Harder, Sir! And may I suggest that you swing the whip up and back before you let loose. This will maximize the acceleration and cause maximum pain!" Uncle did his best to use the proposed technique. The whip sliced clumsily across his back. Sergey jerked and moaned, closing his eyes.

"Perhaps you’ll let me demonstrate? Boys these days need proper handling to keep them in line!" With a nod, Uncle handed him the whip.

 

The salesman took the whip. He whirled it through the air with practiced expertise and lashed it across the boy's broad back and sides.

 

CRACK!

 

The pain was terrible. Skin stretched over ribs burned as if on fire. Sergey screamed in shock.

 

A part of the boy hoped that his scream would be enough to convince Uncle to stop the demonstration and buy the fucking whip so he could get out of there.  He didn’t think he could take any more.

  

The salesman spoke as if lecturing to a class:  "To have its best effect, the whip must be applied not only with proper technique but also in great number."

 

Sergey shuddered at these words realizing that it was not over.

 

"No, no! Uncle, stop this! Are you crazy!?"

 

The salesman clenched his teeth. “Those are very insolent words, young man.  Clearly, you need more correction.”

 

The whip whistled. CRACK!

 

"Aaaaaaaaa, you fucking bastards!"

 

“Such language is unacceptable,” the salesman replied evenly. He turned back to Uncle and resumed his lecturing tone.

 

“May I say, Sir, that quantity and quality are not mutually exclusive.  He definitely needs both a good whip and a good number of lashes.”

 

Uncle nodded.

 

CRACK! A long tearful scream filled the room.

 

"Aaaaaaa, stop, please stop!"

  

"Behave, boy", whispered Uncle tersely. “Take your whipping like a man. Don’t make me ashamed of you!”

 

"One more thing,” said the salesman eyeing Uncle carefully. “You must never give in to the boy's pleading. Begging and screaming are welcome reactions because they prove you are doing your job properly. And never stop before the promised number of lashes have been delivered. For the punishment to be successful, he must know that he cannot influence you and that you will not stop until you decide he has had enough.  

The salesman nodded toward the helpless boy. “Look at this muscular back. It can take a lot. I suggest you drop the word ‘mercy’ from your vocabulary entirely." 

 

With that, the salesman began whipping the boy again mercilessly.

 

Uncle's eyes sparkled! He finally had the means to control this stubborn young man!

 

Again and again the whip attacked Sergey's defenseless body. He cried and sobbed as he dangled in the middle of the shop. People who were walking by stopped and watched the scene through the window.

 

Before long, the whipping was over, but the boy thought those minutes of agony lasted hours! Sergey was exhausted from fighting the pain.  Sweat was dripping off his forehead and chest.  He slumped forward, dangling by the wrists and breathing deeply.   Dark red stripes crisscrossed his torso.

“Does it meet your approval, Sir?  Would you like to take one home?” asked the salesman with a courteous bow. “I realize it’s a lot of money.”

"Yes, yes!" shouted the uncle enthusiastically.

 

"I could also offer an excellent bullwhip, but I would have to order it first."

 

"Please do. I think I’ll need both to keep this young hooligan in line. Would it be possible to arrange another demonstration lesson? Of course, I'll pay you for your time and knowledge "

"No need, Sir. I’m happy to help.  And it would be an honor to participate in training this stallion. I understand how difficult it is to raise reluctant youngsters. Please bring the boy on Wednesday. If you practice every day, you’ll be an expert in no time. This young man deserves it.”

  

"For sure. Thank you!"

 

Sergey couldn’t believe his ears. His back and obliques were a mess. His skin was on fire. It burned so badly that he couldn't put his t-shirt back on and had to walk home shirtless, his red marks on display to all the passersby. 

 

Uncle was smiling all the way home. And Sergey couldn’t help noticing the bulge in the man’s pants.

"Now, remember young man. Every morning and every evening, twice a day until your debts are paid," said Uncle imagining the boy twisting beneath the lash. The man was so horny he didn't know how he could endure even waiting ‘til evening!!!

Games

 

Final countdown. Reich is furiously approaching his target. What a fantastic spine! Ladies and Gentlemen, forehand strike from a close distance. The whip  cracks across the entire width of the back. Oh my God! Double Axel! The whip hits the victim’s back and wraps twice around his chest, first in the centre between two previous welts, and then on his nipples. Amazing! The perfect hit is rewarded with a thunderous applause and the victim’s piercing yell. Despite the fact that the audience cheers loudly after the last blow, we can clearly hear pure screams of agony. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messieurs, the end! What a marvellous finale for this prisoner now hanging hopelessly in pain. That’s what I call well-delivered whipping. The 31-year-old bastard will remember this for his whole life. Many thanks to the organizers who chose the best and most challenging males to be whipped. We are now waiting for the results.

Some people thought young 34-year-old Willy Reich got to the finals by chance but now we can clearly see it’s not by accident. He can easily compete with older and more experienced torturers. This multi-talented warden from Wellington state prison does well with various whips. He had little trouble with the powerful cat-o-nine tails in the quarterfinal but luckily he defeated the prisoners’ arrogance to remain stoic. Cats aren’t used in Wellington since 90. Reich’s unique whipping style eludes classification, very methodical and planned on the one hand, furious and aggressive on the other. Even if he lost today, the second place would be a good start for a newbie in the tournament. His opponent defends the title… Ladies and Gentlemen, we have the results!

9.7

9.5

9.5

10.0

9.8

Yes! We have a new champion! William Reich becomes the winner of the whipping competition! Andrew Cross is 0.2 behind. Springfield state prison hoped to be a third-time winner in a row. Wellington will be celebrating the whole night! Don’t spare the whips, boys. Many thanks for the show. Now we are going back to the studio. 

Military Base III

 

Discipline & Obedience

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Royal Army

5th Regiment 

Flogestone Base

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27th may

Mayor

Thomas Kenneth

Flogestone

Dear Sir!

 

First, please accept my apologies I had to cancel our meeting due to urgent duties. I was sure we'd see each other at the Harvest Festival.

I’m writing to share my problem hoping you will be able to help find a solution. I noticed a group of citizens meet near the base wall just to listen to the screams of convicts being punished. In the beginning, only a few people were gathering but now whippings attract citizens from all over the countryside.

 

A group of men organized a gambling contest based on the number of lashes my soldiers can withstand without screaming! The winner is a person, who gives the nearest number. Somehow civilians were able to infiltrate our base. They have knowledge of which soldiers are punished: date, order, amount of given lashes. The host who took bets even describes details of the convict's physique. I was told privates were offered money in exchange for information on how reluctant and tough particular convicts are to make better guesses.

 

During the formal part before the whipping citizens make noise in excitation throwing out numbers. While the whipping punishment is administrated, there is complete silence behind the wall. Everyone waits in suspense for the first significant moan. When the soldier begins to scream loud, uproar begins again in seconds. When the crowd can’t agree if groans are loud enough to call it a scream, they begin to argue.

 

My soldiers have to watch punishment in silence with respect, while people outside the base amuse themselves at the misfortune of my privates. As I explained in a previous letter, I can’t stop whipping my soldiers to prevent insubordination. I hope you can issue an order to halt reprehensible practices or to ban public assemblies near military base. I still hope to meet you soon.

Sincerely

Andrew Taft

------------------

Previous correspondence:

<Andrew Taft to Thomas Kenneth>

<Thomas Kenneth to Andrew Taft>

Forgotten Barn - part IV

Britzka & Whip story

<Previous part - Reins story>

(...) “The boy should be glad that he wasn't dealing with me!” said the whip. “If I had given him as many lashes as you, Reins, he wouldn’t have been able to crawl home.”

“We all have our talents,” the reins stated quietly.

Unimpressed, Bullwhip continued. “I was busy elsewhere.  It’s always been up to me to punish the most fractious farmworkers.”

The cane broke back in. “Both of you are good at punishing the boys.  But for you it was an extra job. For me, it has always been my only task. The Lord took me everywhere. We were inseparable. I accompanied him all over the world. Think about your entire careers. How many strokes have you given; How many have I?  Pfff.  There’s no comparison.”

“Quality over quantity,” answered the bullwhip condescendingly. “Who took care of Lucas’ back? Any guesses why he was always walking around shirtless?”

“Ah, Luke,” said Cane dreamily. “I have always wanted to thrash him!”.

“And we got in touch… literally,” boasted Whip. “I believe the wedding of Miss Martha is burned into him for the rest of his life,” 

“For sure,” laughed the britzka.

“Tell us, tell us!” came a chorus of voices. Most knew what had happened at the wedding, but after years of being together in the lonely barn, they never tired of each other’s stories.

Britzka loved to be the center of attention. “I was once very beautiful. But that was a long time ago. When I was young and shapely, I moved with grace and vitality. I swayed so quietly and evenly that passengers felt like they were floating on water rather than traveling a stony road. For the wedding day, I was specially prepared, cleaned, and festooned with flowers.”

Whip grunted dismissively.

Britzka ignored him and continued. “Oh yes. I was pulled by Perlino, a handsome young horse. He was inexperienced, but the Landlord needed a light-colored horse for the wedding. We arrived at the bride’s house. My passenger went in to visit the lady and left me in Lucas’ care. This young man had served our master for a short time before working for the bride’s family. He was stubborn, arrogant, and rather lazy.”

“He hadn’t meet me yet,” bragged the whip.

“Shhh” interjected Reins. “Let Britzka tell her story.”

“First,” continued the carriage indignantly, “the young man decided to take me for a joyride with his comrades instead of waiting for my passenger to return. Lucas used a whip to hurry the young horse. Perlino was shocked by the unkind treatment. He reared and whinnied. The rogues argued and finally unhooked the horse from me. One of Lucas’ companions tried to calm the poor animal and mount him, but then Lucas purposely gave the horse a shot with the whip. Scared, Perlino threw the unlucky rider and bolted.”

“Just then Martha appeared with the wedding guests. The farmhands rushed to control the situation, all except Lucas of course. Our Master must have seen the whole thing because he had already appeared red in the face and looking like he was close to exploding. I guess he was holding back for the sake of the bride.”

“Lucas stood brazenly and didn't even bow his head. All the other carriages in the wedding procession were ready except me. Everyone was waiting. Several offered our Landlord a lift. He thanked them and said he would manage to get to the church on his own.” 

“The Landlord glowered at Lucas as the caravan of carriages moved away leaving the two men facing each other”.

“With an impudent tone of voice, Lucas said he could catch Perlino quickly.”

“‘Catch?’ huffed the Landlord, ‘Stupid boy! He is probably halfway home by now. But fortunately, we have another foal right here. Take off your shirt!’ He ordered.”

“Surprised, but realizing the trouble he was in, Lucas slowly stripped to the waist. Deftly, the Landlord harnessed Lucas to replace Perlino and transformed the young man into a workhorse. He took the bullwhip off his belt and held it in his hand.”

“That’s me! That’s me!!”  Interrupted the whip.

“Shhh!!!” Came several voices from around the barn.

“I am light and small,” continued Britzka, “and the young man was very well built and strong. But despite his impressive body, Lucas was not born a draft horse. He shook me with his effort to pull me, starting and stopping. It was not a good ride. Fortunately, a large part of the route was downhill. Our Lord sat on my bench and murmured, ‘If we are late, I'll skin you alive!’ My wheels rolled and rolled until we reached the hill…”

Bullwhip could not control himself.  Fearing britzka would focus on irrelevant details he took over. “The wheels of the britzka were rolling, rolling, and I’m waiting in master’s hand for the bastard to slow down. We're going up the hill and I have to admit that I was impressed with Lucas's strength. He flexed his muscles under the strain, which only emphasized his fine broad shoulders and naturally sculpted abs. As he began the ascent, I could feel the hand of the master tighten on my hilt. ‘Gee up!’ I hear. I knew immediately what to do. Whizzzz and I landed on the boy's back. He groaned in surprise, and we accelerated.”

“The Lord lashed him a few times on his back,” continued Bullwhip, “but unfortunately, although he had no shirt, the ropes tied between Britzka and the horse collar got in the way, so I failed to deliver my most effective lashes. I couldn’t fully show what I can do.  Nevertheless, we arrived at the church on time.”

“A bad workman always blames his tools,” jeered Cane.

The whip ignored her and continued his story. “Lucas pulled up outside the church.  His fear somewhat dissipated, he removed the horse collar and let it fall to the ground. He leaned against the wall and tried to charm him with his cynical roguish smile. He kept his back to the wall not wanting to show the few, admittedly mediocre marks I had drawn.”

“I was shocked when our Lord coiled me up and handed me over to the boy saying, ‘Go back to the manor. If the horse has not returned, find him. You will wait for my return. This whip is your new best friend. He and your back will meet again soon.’”

“Lucas’ face paled. He solemnly nodded his understanding of what awaited him.”

“Suddenly the bride appeared.  Approaching us, I was truly afraid that she was coming to the rescue the boy and ask her uncle for mercy because of her wedding. Instead, she merely smiled. Looking at Lucas's bare chest but addressing the Landlord she said, ‘The whipping post is waiting for you, Uncle.’”

“I've always said that Miss Martha is a prudent, smart creature,” laughed the britzka.

<Next part - Bullwhip story>

Many thanks to Strictop for improving the text.

Wonderful Christmas time

 

Forgotten Barn - part III

 

Reins story

<Previous part - Forgotten Barn - part II>

"Our master passionately loved harsh discipline, hard labour, public nudity, and especially corporal punishment. He punished his farmworkers in many exotic ways. He loved to feast his eyes on their strong broad backs and naked asses. And when that ass or back was nicely reddened, he was in heaven!”

“Oh, this is my idea of heaven as well,” said Cane. “You won’t believe what I have experienced with our master. I can’t count how many times he tied up thieves, farmworkers, and army cadets and forced them to bend over. That’s when I came into action. There were many screams, moans, and cries when I was doing my work. They all got what they deserved.  The Master spared no one. Some boys wept after only the third stroke.  Others pretended to be brave and tough, but in the end they all begged for mercy. I don't remember any young man whom I couldn't break. Whether their asses were hairy and muscular or smooth and firm, they all faced the same fate… Me!”

“So true,” Reins chimed in from his place hanging on the wall. “The Master would also use me from time to time, and when we got to work, the sound of lashes on the bare buttocks and back echoed all over the village. So many times the Master unhooked us from the bridle and swung us neatly over a lifted ass. In addition to the crack of leather, there were often suppressed moans and sometimes even crying as we slashed across a sorry lad’s tight skin again and again. We left beautiful red stripes from the back to the thighs. You should see young Sam, son of a leatherworker from the village”.

“I know the lad,” said Cane. "I wish I could  have given the arrogant young man a lesson in manners. What did he do this time?” Cane asked, a little saddened that she wasn’t the only one punishing boys so effectively. She never thought that Whip and Reins had such a significant role in training naughty farm rednecks.  She used to believe that she was unique.

“He robbed our farmer,” Reins revealed.

“Wow!” exclaimed Cane. “The punishment for robbery is one of the worst! I could feel how angry our Lord was while he used me once before on a thief’s buttocks. That caning seemed to go on forever!” Cane warmed with the memory.

 Reins made a small noise of agreement and continued their story. “We were traveling along the dirt road with the hayrack wagon. Suddenly, the Master pulls us up sharply to stop the horses and dashes into the orchard. After a while, he emerged from the trees dragging Sam by the ear. He brought him over to the carriage and told him to strip. The Lord bound his wrist and tossed the other end of the rope over a branch so high that the thief had to stand on his toes. He released us from the bridle and then used us to whip him properly on the back and butt.”

“How much did he get?” asked the whip with obvious interest.

“We do not know,” replied Reins. “About a hundred and fifty lashes or more; We lost count. Before the punishment was even halfway through the writhing boy pleaded with our Master to stop.  He was crying like a child and pulling himself up trying to escape from our punishment. But Lord just continued whipping him making him scream and twist his bound body against the rope." 

“Master really hates thievery,” agreed Cane. “I can just imagine how much energy he put into the punishment.” 

“Absolutely right,” said Reins. “It was intense!  And when it was all over, the young man was left dangling from the tree. The master told him that his red ass and wounded body would be an excellent example for others. That’s how Sam ended up."

“Oh! That wasn’t the end of his torment,” exclaimed Cane excitedly. “Before his father came and took him down, all workers on their way to the mill saw his naked body hanging vulnerable and broken. The old leatherworker even gave him a few more smacks for good measure when he got him home. I know because I was visiting his workshop with our Master and I heard the conversation.” 

“Oh Sam. What am I going to do with you?” Cane imitated a tearful leatherworker’s voice. 

Then, mimicking the Lord’s voice, Cane cried, “Spank the young brat and keep spanking him. It’s the only way!” 

“Our Master then gave his friend some ideas for using the various leather implements lying around the shop to discipline the boy. The old leatherworker called the boy over and ordered him to strip again.”

“Bend over and grab your ankles, boy!”

“Trembling, Sam did as he was told,” continued Cane. “I got really excited seeing his exposed red buttocks, but I didn’t get to touch them. Together, our Master and his friend tested several leather implements on his raw cheeks. With every hit, the boy jumped and cried, ‘Please, Daddy, no more!’ Wanting to impress the Lord, the father ignored his son’s pleas and continued to punish him harshly. With an evil glint in his eyes, Master asked Sam which tool he would most like to avoid. The stupid boy picked up the tawse. It was the implement that hurt the most. Master said ‘From now on, this will be your nemesis.’ He nodded at the old man who spanked him with it until the boy was fully in tears.” Cane paused, savoring the memory.

“Tawse later boasted that after his performances Sam could not sit down. And I believe it’s true. Tawse is a very talented tool. But of course nowhere near as effective as I!” boasted Cane.

“The boy should be glad that he wasn't dealing with me!” said the whip. “If I had given him as many lashes as you, Reins, he wouldn’t have been able to crawl home.”

“We all have our talents,” the reins stated quietly.

Next part - Britzka & Whip

You should never lose

Game over. The team had lost. They will no longer play in the top league. 

It was all Cole’s fault. His teammates were heart broken. His fans were disgusted and angry. Half of them had already left the stadium. The coach was heading towards him, eyes blazing. Young players have to expect hard consequences when they let the team down.

A couple of the guys moved a portable goal post into the middle of the pitch. They stripped off his clothes and tied Cole to it. The naked footballer’s body glistened with sweat after a hard 1.5-hour match. 

Now he will perform again. 

Cole burned with humiliation. The yellow card was his fault. He was responsible for losing the game. Now his private parts were on display for the audience. Soon he is going to be mercilessly whipped by both the coach and his teammates. The penalty was 110 lashes! 

The guys wanted to take out their anger and teach him a lesson. The audience screamed for blood. Cole had hoped to look like he didn’t care and the punishment would be no big deal, but when his clothes were stripped off, all courage vanished. His body began to shake.

And then the whipping began.

At first, Cole managed to stifle his groans. But the pain he was suffering became evident by his naked trembling flesh. He tried to take it, but his body jerked under each intense bite of the whip. 

Finally, he lost control. The spectators cheered each time Cole yelled.  As the whipping continued, his teammates learned how to inflict the most serious pain. Soon, Cole was screaming every time the whip flayed his back. He started to beg, “Have mercy, have mercy!”  But this only caused the intensity of the whipping to increase. He was kicking his legs so much they eventually had to tie them down.  He began howling incoherently, frantic with the pain. At last, Cole fell limp as he fainted with exhaustion. 

The flogging was over.

THE FARM - Chapter II - Part 1

 

Back to the future.

Previous part of the story

Beginning of the story

Tamás fate (chapter I)

Let's take a look at Tamás' fate.

<Next part>