Date: Sat, 13 Feb 2010 06:19:21 -0800 (PST)
From: Thoby Andover <thobyandover@y7mail.com>
Subject: Harnessed Bucks part 7

Copyright 2010 by the author

The story contains hard-core bondage in a fantasy setting.

Author's note:  Keep sending it in.  I pay attention to everybody.

thobyandover@y7mail.com


***HARNESSED BUCKS***

Being an episode in which it is hoped that a traditional audience is
regained and some peculiar details are discarded.

PART THE SEVENTH

The reader has waited patiently with much anticipation, and as I place this
account upon parchment, I remember back to my tawse-whipping in the town
square where I was suspended up-side-down, and it is my intention to leave
out no detail, for the wise cadet will pursue any means at his disposal to
avoid for himself what I describe.

My legs were parted most widely and my bare ass was presented to the
whipping man, and he did make the tawse whistle about his head, and this
sound was a clean, singing harmonic, and the leather tail did fly with much
speed.

There was an almighty *CRACK* as he tested it with much strength, and this
sound did drive birds into the air and did bring forth "oohs" and "ahs"
from the crowd as they considered his skill.  The tawse-whip was about
twenty feet long, and its flat blade did swish about with a musical shriek
as it was wielded.

I heard comments from the crowd:

"Hooooly shit!"

"Yikes!"

"Hey, boy!  Get ready!"

Then, the whip-master did pass some orders and advice to his fellow
soldiers on the platform.

"Stand well back."

There was a short moment of stillness, and all I could hear was the
creaking of the wooden posts which suspended my weight as I gently swayed
by my ankles.  The crowd was quiet.

Then the tawse-whip whistled an evil tune.

*CRACK!*

I was blinded with white light, and I heard an unholy screech.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!"  I did cry in utter surprise.  At
that moment, with my ass ablaze, I did believe that I possessed the certain
knowledge that the whip-master would deliver me of one stroke only, and
that my punishment was surely complete, for it was clearly impossible for
any man to take more than one cut of the tawse on his ass.  I couldn't take
another.

"FUUUUUUCK!!!  FUUUUUUUCK!!!  FUCK!!!"

"Did that hurt?" someone asked from the crowd.

The leather tail curled and rippled in the air and there was an inscrutable
pause as time did become slowed down.

The whip whistled

*CRACK!*

The second stroke was ten times worse, and my curses became intelligible.

"Call out the number!"  some members of the audience did advise me, but
snot did dribble from my nose and tears from my eyes, and my world was a
blurred mess.

The whip whistled again.

*CRACK!*

A burning hellfire did light up my ass, and after I did howl like a banshee
wail, I did collect myself to shout out to the whip-master.

"SIR!!!...THREE!!!...SIR!!!"  I blubbed.

"Bzzzt!  Wrong number, monkey-boy!  Start the count at `one.'"

"FUCK!!!  FUCK!!!  FUCK!!!  FU...!"

The whip whistled.

KER - ***RACK!!!***

I howled again, and made to shout out; "SIR!!!...ONE!!!...SIR!!!" most
strenuously, for I was most concerned that the whip-master do not miss my
number, and that with every forthcoming stroke, he be informed with no
ambiguity as to how many cuts had been delivered, for three whip-cuts had
already been missed in my counting due to my negligence, and although these
cuts were missed by me, they were not missed by my raging ass, and the
leather blade of the tawse did land upon my hindquarters with high-speed
and accuracy, and did make such a sharp sound that members of the crowd did
wince most visibly, and these cuts did shake my flesh and I did swing back
and forth between the poles on my pulleys, and when I swung forward I did
call out my lamentations to the crowd who did look at me and hear me, and
on one of my backward swings, the next cut did land.

I heard the whip whistle, and by this time I did know that in the next
moment, my backside would be delivered of another great-stinging blow, and
at this time I was already shouting a rude curse before the whip did land.

**KERR - - - RACK!!!**

My howling was most loud, and I did seek to make it louder still, for the
tawse-whipped man hanging suspended from the frame will know there is
naught he can do but howl, and for some reason, howl he must, or perhaps
the victim of the tawse whip does believe some person may come to his
rescue upon hearing his shrieks.  Also, he must shout the number so that
each arriving stroke is deducted from the total, and the man is most keen
to ensure this is so.

"SIR!!!...TWO!!!...SIR!!!"

At this juncture I had officially received two strokes -- in reality
five, and I did make to beg in a loud voice that no further cuts be
applied, for I did seek to ensure that the whip-master understand that the
punishment thus far had been entirely suitable.

The whip whistled.

If I had counted out a total of three strokes, then that would have meant I
had received, in actuality, six -- and at this sixth stroke I did
sincerely believe I must die, for I did blubber and cry.  But I counted out
six, meaning, of course, there had been nine strokes, and six officially
counted cuts of the tawse did seem to me a sufficient number at that point,
but one was added, perhaps for luck, and then, perhaps, seven did seem an
unlucky number, for the whip master did then proceed to twelve, and added
to that were the three original cuts I had missed in my lamentably
calculated counting, and four further cuts, missed somewhere along the way
by me in my blubbering, making nineteen in total.  And nineteen, evidently,
was not a round figure, so the whip-master did thoughtfully add another,
and between these strokes of the tawse there were odd pauses as the
whip-master rested and the buck did swing, making me completely surprised
every time the whip did whistle, for at many of these brief stops, I did
believe my punishment to be over, and when I did hear the whip whistling
toward my hindquarters again, I did call out in dismay before the leather
blade landed, and this call was usually a sorrowful wail;

"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!" as tears sprayed from my eyes, and I was cut short by
the shocking *CRACK* as I felt the leather on my bare hide, and then this
cry turned to a deeper;

"HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"  as air shot from my lungs.  And then I must find
breath again quickly in order that I call out the number of strokes
accompanied by two "SIRs!!!"  for the whip-master did seem to want to land
the leather upon the dangling buck before the buck did have a chance to
call out his number, and I, conversely, did want to beat the whip-master to
this end, and once I had made the call, the tawse-wielding man did pause
and rest, as I have said.

Between each wicked whip-cut, my ears did roar and I did hear nothing else,
even though I did see the lips of the spectators move, and their
expressions were often happy at the entertainment provided them, and
sometimes surprised as I called out my loud grief and my counting.  There
were none more surprised than I, for I did believe it not possible for a
man to wield a twenty-foot whip and land it on the swinging ass of a
criminal and make that backside so stinging sore with every stroke, and
every stroke was worse than the last, and as the whipping did proceed, my
yelling did advance in this knowledge.

In my momentum of bellowing, I did pursue a means of reasoning with the
wielder of the whip, for I did try to convince him through my words that a
further cut be not necessary and that my improvement through punishment was
saturated already, and with each cut, I did desperately invent a new
convincing sentence which may convert him to this knowledge.  And in doing
this, I did firstly not neglect to inform him of the number of cuts
delivered already, excepting those wretched occasions where my weeping did
take my voice and a certain stroke not be counted by me, and thusly must be
delivered again.

Thusly, I did say; "SIR!!!  TEN!!!  SIR!!!...SIR!!!  I'VE HAD ENOUGH AND I
WON'T DO IT AGAIN!!!  AND YOUR WHIPPED PRISONER IS MOST ANXIOUS TO DELAY
FURTHER APPLICATION OF YOUR SKILLS MOST GRATEFULLY RECEIVED!!!"  And I did
say this with much force and as sincerely as my snot-ridden face and watery
eyes would allow

Also, I did say; "SIR!!!  TWELVE!!!  SIR!!!  YOUR GOOD, KIND SIR HAS
ADMINISTERED A COMPLETE PUNISHMENT!!!  AND THIS IS CLEAR TO EVERYBODY BY
THE NUMBER TWELVE!!!  AND TWELVE IS A VERY GOOD NUMBER!!!  AND YOUR GOOD,
KIND-HEARTED SIR WILL FIND THE NUMBER TWELVE TO BE IDEAL!!!  FUCK!!!
PLEASE!!!  **FUCK!!!**"

And my very personal and very honest dialogue to the Sir was interrupted by
further dispensation on his part.  Also, the reader will know that the
number ten and the number twelve are displaced by the number eleven, and
this number also coincided with a heartily consigned thunderclap of leather
upon bare rump-flesh, and during this occasion, I did make similar
applications.

I became very concerned with these numbers, and at one juncture I did
exclaim; "SIR!!!  SIXTEEN!!!  SIR!!!  SIR!!!  PLEASE!!!  STOP!!!  FUCK!!!
STOP!!!  PLEASE!!!"

In a similar fashion I did provide commentary upon the remaining strokes,
and the pulleys and ropes did rattle and the flaying leather did find its
every mark, and I did most solemnly wish to be delivered to the paradise of
the man-yoke, described in some other chapter, where my cock be loaded into
this punishment device and I may drink-in this bliss and rapture for
forty-eight hours, so that I may be rewarded for never, ever again
displeasing a Corsair general, commander, soldier, or citizen, and I did
voice these disconnected opinions between the sixteenth and seventeenth
strokes of the tawse whip.

At the nineteenth stroke, I did beg to be consigned to a dungeon cell or to
pull a plough or haul a pack of shit in high-heels in preference to
receiving one more cut.  The final, twentieth cut did arrive upon a
man-rump grievously considering the terrible crimes performed by its owner,
and this rump did consider it an essential thing to prevent the man from
performing these crimes again, or any like it, and the rump did make a most
solemn vow to prevent this man from ever returning to his villainous ways.
And the quivering, blooded rump of tenderised flesh did find the final
tawse-cut to be a thing both celebrated and bemoaned, for the reader will
understand both its earnest want not to have an unpleasant thing repeated,
and its desire also to have that unpleasant thing as the last in a wholly
unpleasant series of twenty unpleasant things.

I had experienced twenty unpleasant things, and with each thing, the
unpleasantness did grow and grow, and as the final, twentieth unpleasant
thing is described, the reader will become aware of the abstract method I
have recently employed to depict these things, such is my determination to
communicate to the reader the full unpleasantness of these things, and such
is my grave duty to influence the reader to avoid at all costs a whipping
with a twenty-foot tawse.  And as we return from the abstract and
figurative to the wooden platform in the public square with the suspended,
up-side-down buck, the reader may be pleased to continue this narrative of
events.

The show was not over, for the whip-master must be rewarded and thanked for
his efforts, and these thanks and rewards it was my responsibility to
convey, and so he did grasp firmly the raggedly knifed hair on my head and
he pulled me backwards so that I arched up-side-down from my confined
ankles to my neck, and I did see behind me, and if the reader will think
carefully about my physical position, he will picture my neck bent sharply
back and my arms confined behind my neck and my head looking directly at
the tawse-master's leather pants, and I did gladly take this large man's
cock in my mouth, for I was pleased to suck him rather than receive more
cuts from the whip.

And I did suck most attentively and industriously, for I was most grateful
indeed for my whipping being over, and I did want to suck and suck as long
as the evil tawse was put aside, and this man did tell me exactly how to
suck, and I did lick and slobber upon his extended prong and taste his
tangy cheese.  At first, I licked along his shaft and was pleased to see it
become stiff and upright, and I worked the ropey skin of its underside with
my tongue.  Its head filled my mouth and I gaped and mawed to take it, and
he kindly helped me in this endeavour by fuck-thrusting as he held my head
by my hair just so.  The considerable meat was forced into my throat, and
it did come directly into my gullet with gushing spurts which I knew I must
swallow.

When this task was completed, he did zip himself, satisfied, and I did
swing back to see the dispersing people at the front of the platform as his
thick man-juices did dribble from my lips and my nose.  I licked it from my
face as best I could, for I am a clever young fellow and did deduce that
any gobs of man-stuff landing upon the platform would mean some remorseful
circumstances for me.  It did taste muchly of salt, and chewy balls of it
did form a glue in my mouth which I did swallow as best I could in my
up-side-down disposition, and a thick rope of it did suspend from my upper
lip down toward the wooden stage, and I did draw and suck on this leaking
cream much as one does suck upon a noodle, and I was successful in pulling
this white cord fully into my mouth, and this action resulted in smiles and
some cheers from the crowd.

I was let down from the poles, and I did howl anew as my burned butt did
land upon the stage, and I struggled to jump up, and I could feel that I
would little care to sit down with my butt upon any surface for at least
two weeks.

Let the reader beware of a tawse-whipping in a Corsair public park.  He
will sorely regret one stroke.  A second stroke will blank his mind in
white-hot pain.  Three strokes would seem to correct the most hardened
thug, and four strokes is a punishment for the recidivist cattle-thief.
Six strokes should be very rarely given.

I did receive a full twenty strokes, and to this day, I do shudder when I
see black leather, and I do sometimes hear the wicked *CRACK* in my dreams
and wake crying-out, with my hands desperately upon my rump-cheeks.

My ass did hurt grievously as I ran away from the platform and it did burn
with a hellish fire, and I was put into an iron cage in a public place so
that all who see me may be warned by my pathetic circumstances not to
commit a crime and become like I -- an unhappy lad, naked and sorely
whipped and confined so that I may neither stand up nor lie down.

I was most uncomfortable in this cage, for my wrists were still confined
and my rump was afire with red-hot coals and this part of my body did
firstly cause me the most concern.  I did try to adjust my position so that
I may find some way to reduce the pain in my raw ass.  In this cage, a man
may find that his best selection is to kneel, but when I did this, my ass
did touch my heels and I winced and gritted my teeth and did decide to move
to a new posture.  And so I did crouch, but again, my ass did find this
intolerable and did protest to me with renewed gusto.  Eventually, I simply
stood and bent over, for the roof of the cage did prevent me from standing
erect, and perhaps this was its design, for bent over this way, I did
conveniently present my bare ass to passers-by, so they may see how it was
whipped and understand why I was there and why my butt was presented so.

Another part of me was also prevented from standing erect, and this was my
cock, for it was ringed through and tied off to the hairs about my man
parts, which were knotted into a cord.  Despite my blazing rump and the
concern this did cause me, my penis did strangely attempt to become erect,
and it did jerk and twitch, and when this did happen, it pulled against its
ring and cause itself some ouch and hurt.

My cruelly tethered schlong did have some of my sympathy, due to the silver
ring which had been pushed through its sensitive head, but my schlong did
not seem to be an organism capable of learning its lesson, for it did
continue to strain at its tether.  The leashed bull does eventually learn
not to pull against the ring through its nose, but my similarly ringed
man-part was not this clever, and it did persist in its tugging.

As well as the hurt caused by the piercing ring, my cock did also suffer
from an emotional sentiment, for it did earnestly wish to become erect and
was prevented from doing so, and was continually pulled downwards, and this
did make me whimper and bleat, and I did surmise that my balls were full of
spunk and they did actively encourage my cock to erect itself.

After some time, I did wonder how my cock may expel my spunk, for it was
obvious to me that I needed to do this, for it is among the urgent
requirements of a fit younker such as myself that this deed be performed
regularly and as soon as possible after the necessity becomes apparent.  I
did moan softly and offer condolences to my poor, restrained cock, for I
did feel my weighted balls make their demand, and an athletic young buck
will wish to spurt his spunk any way he can, such is the vital need of his
overloaded balls.

I did become like a desperate puppy, and did whinge and snivel in my
distress, and persons seeing me in my cage did no doubt think that my
whining and sobbing was because of my severe ass-whipping, but this was not
so, and I would have born the stinging sweat on my blazing ass cheeks with
little complaint had I been allowed to eject my heavy load through a
properly upstanding spout.

Presently, one of the persons coming by did appear to me, and this person
was the young lad of about my own age who was the hair-dresser and who had
appeared to me on previous occasions and who, the reader will remember, was
my love-interest.  This lad was the one who had made it possible for my
ringed cock to be tethered down to my twisted pubic-hair, and as my cock
did jerk and strain, it did little know that it wasn't really his fault,
for he had been told to perform his hair-dressing in no uncertain terms by
Corsair bullies, and no doubt the lad was unfamiliar with the braiding and
trussing of a young buck's pubes into a pony-tail and the knotting of such
pubes to the buck's ringed penis.  The lad saw my distress, and I did waste
little time in telling him to use his penknife in cutting the cock-tether
which he had aided in constructing, for my man-meat did wish to be
released, and those readers who will remember their youth will also
remember the tension and pressure of sexual energy applied during that time
of life -- if they are male -- and if they are female, I do wish they
were not reading this at all, for I was naked in public in a cage and my
schlong was convulsing in its sorrow.

The pretty lad did refuse to help my cock, for he said that if my ringed
man-part be cut from its cruel leash, then I may be severely punished, and
my burning ass and the previous account of my whipping made this
possibility a thing to be avoided, and I knew what he said to be true.
Nevertheless, I did moan and whimper and complain in most earnest terms,
and I told the lad that my flayed, razing ass did cause me much distress,
but the distress caused to me by my swelling cock was a thing which he
could relieve with a penknife, and I did incautiously beg him to cut my
pubes so that I may spurt and come.

He said that this was not entirely true, for he did have in his hand a lump
of salving cream which he proposed be applied to my ass, and he did reach
through the cage to do so, and with much care and gentleness, he did wipe
my ass with this salve.  Upon this, I did cry and bawl -- not so much
because the touching of my reddened cheeks was a very painful thing --
but because I was bent over in a cage in a public place, naked, with a
pretty lad rubbing my butt, and people did gather to see this, and my
destitute male-organ was in view, arching and bending and pulled over by
its ring and tether.

His tender hand did slide between my buttocks and he did probe my hole, and
he did announce that he would attempt to lighten my loaded balls by a
particular method.  A finger went in, and I did feel it wiggling in my
rear-canal and I did make certain high-pitched noises in my wonderment, for
his finger was a most dexterous instrument and he did use it with much
proficiency, and my inner parts were manipulated in such a manner that I
did see stars before my eyes and was unconscious of the puppy-squeaks
emitted from my mouth.

Eventually, the boy's finger did find that part of me which is connected
somehow to my come, and a scientist may explain how this pressure-button
does excite a young lad and make his juices flow, and this button was
squeezed, and I did feel a jolting sensation.

The reader will know of the pleasurable sensations which are attached to
having his cock placed somewhere which makes it hard and which causes him
to come.  The reader may also be aware of the strange sensations which
occur when his cock does become hard of its own accord and expel its juice
spontaneously and out of order, pumping and rocking and causing its owner
some surprise, such as when a specific dream occurs or when its owner sees
a woman's exposed suspender belt.  And when this happens, as is the case
with boys and young men, the express does cause some disappointment, for
the young buck did wish to contain his come until such time as he may shoot
it effectively, perhaps by stroking his erect penis with his hand and
pleasuring himself as he knows how, and his disobedient cock which shoots
its white load in an inopportune moment is physically distressing and
perhaps embarrassing -- like the time my cock did swell against my shorts
in the presence of Sergeant McBevan as I stood to attention in his office,
and Sergeant McBevan -- who's appearance was such that I felt melted and
gooey whenever I did see him -- was able to view with upmost clarity my
gobs of come as they wetted my shorts and dripped down my legs onto the
floor, and on that occasion I did groan in misery.

The reader may now imagine that the lad with his finger up my ass did
posses a certain skill which made my reservoir empty itself in this way,
and this was done without erecting my penis, and I did groan in a similar
way.  The lad did squeeze and press and make sure my inner parts were fully
operated, and a white flood did ensue.  My rivers did open and I did piss a
stream of white come, and I found this to be a strange thing, for my cock
did not erect and the boy did wiggle his finger in my ass and cause these
things to happen, and I did complain about these strange circumstances, for
the healthy young buck will wish his ejaculation to be an occurrence
entered into with full enthusiasm and energy with upstanding cock, and it
is a very frustrating thing for him to see his hot man-load ejected with no
concurrent excitement.

I did twist and wriggle in my cage, and my raw-whipped ass did feel greatly
the tender hand which was upon it, and this hand did push in a certain
quarter which I did find most unusual, and looking back, I surmise, as the
reader may, that the young man with charged balls may be unloaded in a
variety of ways.  The finger did wiggle and rub against my inner bulb and I
did weep with distress, for my cock was unable to erect nor project fully,
and it did instead spew meekly, bent over and ringed to my pubes, and I did
resentfully wish that it may become straight and rigid and fully stiff as a
young man may want it.  Thick gobs of my white stuff did drip to the dust
and Corsair soldiers did laugh at me.  I did curse my luck and did announce
quite loudly my hope that all this may happen to the laughing soldiers --
that they may be stringed up and whipped and have their cocks pierced and
tethered and be displayed in a public cage and be milked by a boy with his
finger up their ass.

I was covered in sweat and dust and my flayed ass did hurt most grievously,
and as I stood bent over in the iron cage, I did present my ass to a
passing troop of boy-scouts who were much interested in my bared behind.
The scout-master did comment upon it, telling his boys that this was the
whipped ass of a captured buck and that the naked criminal in the cage was
a creature worthy only of contempt.  Along came the tribe of emo-kids who
did fasten upon the notion that the caged animal was something to be spat
upon, and the young ladies of the Corsair School of Refined Upbringing did
arrive, turning up their noses and positioning their parasols strategically
between their cultivated faces and the wretched being in the public cage
-- and here too was a particular fellow in striped trousers who may as
well have been Dirk Bogarde in `Death in Venice,' if you know what I mean,
and who did look at me most intently and I particularly did get the feeling
that this fellow did not care that my ass had been whipped with a tawse and
did simply wish to look at it, whipped or not, as it was presented upturned
and in public, and at this point I did consider my disposition most
carefully and did wish I was a small mouse who may disappear into a hole
instead of a naked buck in a cage, with an ass severely whipped.

I did stay in my cage until nightfall, and several kind people did come to
feed me and give me water.  They had to push the food between the bars and
into my mouth, for my hands were still shackled behind my head, and in this
way I was given scraps of bread, and an emo-boy who was full of popcorn and
who did have some left over did place his popped kernels, one at a time, on
the palm of his hand before me, and I did munch upon these most greedily.
Also, the comely lad with whom the diligent reader will be already familiar
and who had earlier milked my prostate, and who really should have been
given a name by now -- let's say... `Troy,' did offer me his lips, and we
did kiss with much sucking and biting, and through the bars of the cage I
did profess my fervent wish that we may fuck together, man to man, and Troy
did pull down his trews and wank before me, tugging his cock with his hand,
and while he did this he did look to me with a most intent expression and
pull his organ with much vigour, and he did express the opinion that I
should be free to fuck him, which I was not.

The reader will form the impression of having déjà vue all over again, for
I am sure something like this has been previously committed to parchment
but I just can't be bothered going back to read over it and what the fuck,
who cares anyway, except that reader who will send in a special letter
pointing out that while I am in the cage being wanked over, I cannot
actually know that sometime later, I will be writing this parchment, and
this is a continuity error which I cannot account for, and to this
particular reader I am very grateful for him pointing this out, and I am
most surprised that someone reads over this with such careful study, and I
hope that this current episode meets with some measure of approval despite
its strange discourse -- and in the next chapter I will again be pegged
into the cock-yoke which seemed to be so popular and there will be all that
stuff with the pine-needles and butterfly collection which somebody asked
for and explained in explicit detail and which is rather quite good.  And
in the chapter after that -- I will think up something to do with
galley-slaves -- sorry for keeping everybody waiting -- but hey, you
think it's easy being captured by the Corsairs?

Thoby Andover

thobyandover@y7mail.com