Date: Tue, 19 Jul 2005 07:31:17 +0000
From: Mark Bronson <beastmaster42@hotmail.com>
Subject: JOURNEY INTO NIGHT 19

JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - CHAPTER NINETEEN

By beastmaster42@hotmail.com

Previously...

He put his big hands on my shaven head, pulling me more tightly into his
foul-smelling crotch. Did he like me? Did he want me? Foolish questions! He
was just using another prison slave - but one thing was certain: I wanted
him... Yes, he had punished me, beaten me with stinging nettles and his
belt, used me as a toilet earlier that day when he had crapped in my pig
mouth; yes, he had laughed and sniggered at my pain and degradation; yes, it
gave him pleasure to see me treated like this (and this would clearly be the
only way he would ever want me), but I knew only that in this sublime moment
I wanted him...

As the youth ground his foul crotch in my face, wrapping his big hands round
my hairless head, I threw my arms round his big, round buttocks in a gesture
of submission and desire, sobbing incoherently into the foul, piss-stained
cloth of his overall...

After a few seconds, I heard the door of the barn being flung open, and
through the corner of my eye I saw his father and brother standing in the
open doorway. The farmer shouted something at his son and marched
purposefully towards us. His son dropped his hands from round my head and
turned away from me to face his father... From my poor understanding of
their language, I gathered his father, the farmer, was remonstrating with
him for being too intimate with the filthy prison pig (punctuated by a
vicious kick from his booted foot, which sent me sprawling on the shitty
floor), that this was not the first time this had happened, that I was hired
from the prison to work! As I lay there with my cock still throbbing and
straining against its ring locked to my navel ring, I looked up fearfully -
clearly his father was angry with him (and no doubt with me, for my pathetic
gesture of embracing his thighs and buttocks as he pushed his bulging crotch
into my face), and after the tortures I had been subjected to during the day
I did not feel I could stand further punishment...

But then his angry father did something that surprised me - he slapped his
son's face two or three times, punctuating his angry words, while the youth
seemed to be trying to apologize for his forgetfulness in allowing such
intimacy with a piece of shit from the prison. But his father would have no
more of it - he told the youth to drop his overall and go the very wooden
post where I had been beaten myself a couple of hours previously. The youth
pleaded with the farmer that he wouldn't do it again, that he would treat me
the way I should be, but it was of no avail... The youth slowly unbuckled
the straps of his overall and let them drop to the floor, kicking off his
dirty boots and stepping out of them as his father undid the belt around his
own trousers. The farmer signaled to his other son to secure him to the
wooden post as the humiliated youth presented his hands to be tied round the
other side of it (clearly, a tradition in this family). The other son also
took off his own belt and fastened it round his brother's waist to the
wooden post, buckling it on the other side. I noticed he pulled it extra
tight, eliciting a groan from his brother and forcing the hapless youth's
buttocks to stick out further...

Fearfully, I lay quietly on the filthy floor of the barn as his father took
up position to the side of his son and began to lash into the youth's
powerful thighs and buttocks with his belt. He was a tough lad, and did not
cry and scream as I had done, just groaning occasionally as a particularly
vicious blow landed on his bare flesh. His brother just smiled as he watched
his father angrily punish his brother. The humiliation was all the greater
for being punished in front of the prison pig, and I felt sorry for him -
after all, it was only a small transgression. Once more, my own cock began
to betray me by swelling and stiffening. Since I was of course naked and my
cock was secured to my navel in front of me, I could not hide my perverted
lust as I watched the punishment continue. After about ten full minutes of
continual thrashing, the farmer stopped, turned towards me and, grabbing the
chain attached to my collar pulled me to my knees and dragged me over to his
beaten son and ordered me to kiss and lick his beaten buttocks and thighs -
a small act of kindness to ease the pain, I thought.

I did as ordered, of course, licking away the flecks of blood where the belt
had done its vicious work. The farmer and his other son watched me go about
my business with quiet satisfaction... The smell from the youth's sweaty,
unwashed crack was powerful and heavy, and it was not long before I
inevitably felt the farmer's hands shove my face into the stinking cleft
between the youth's buttocks, there to do what every prison pig was expected
to do. The pig's tongue licked around the beaten youth's dirty hole,
eventually pushing its way up inside it, tasting the remains of the crap
that he had dumped in its mouth earlier in the day. A few farts escaped as
the pig did its duty, probably the result of the fear the youth had felt as
he was punished humiliatingly in front of the prison slave. This caused the
youth's brother to snigger, but pig did not dare to stop, however, until the
farmer had given permission, which eventually came after the farmer had put
his belt back on and was walking towards the door of the barn. The youth's
brother was about to untie his hands and release the restraining belt, when
the farmer barked out an order to leave him, saying something like 'if he
wanted to consort with prison pigs, he might as well stay with them...'. I
was shocked - clearly this brute wielded a rod of iron in this desolate
place and I would have to be very careful not to cross him in the future.
The beaten youth was left secured to the pillar, the tight belt forcing out
his whipped buttocks obscenely, his hands still tied with rope round the
other side of it - and the prison pig was his only companion, its collar
still secured to the same wooden post by its chain.

The small paraffin lamp flickered in the silence, punctuated only by an
occasional groan from the punished youth as he stood, humiliated, with his
beaten buttocks and thighs exposed to the prison pig. Eventually, he
whispered to me, in a humiliated voice to lick and kiss him as I had done
before, to relieve some of the pain. My perverted desire for him was now so
great - perverted, because I had enjoyed seeing him punished while at the
same time feeling sorry for his humiliation and pain - that my tongue and
lips soon found their way to his beaten thighs and buttocks once more, and
to the cleft between them. I was not handcuffed any more, so I could use
them to pull open his punished buttocks so that my tongue could do its duty
more efficiently. His stinking cock and balls were hanging down between his
beaten thighs, and the pig's mouth was soon doing its duty in that
department too, licking the sweaty, pissy balls and cheesy cockhead, then
taking the whole head in its mouth and lovingly sucking on it and licking
it. Of course, it began to stiffen, but since the youth was so firmly
secured to the wooden pillar, it could not rise up vertically, but remained
uncomfortably pushed downwards with the pig's mouth round it.

My desire to please him was now overpowering, and my tongue went back to the
welts on his buttocks and thighs, and on down to his stinking feet, licking
between his dirty toes to show my complete subjection to him, even though he
had been so humiliated and punished in front of me, the filthy prison pig.
Yet to him, this must have been a further humiliation, knowing the prison
scum was getting pleasure out of working on his helpless, punished body -
that he was no longer in a position of command, and that the prisoner's
tongue and lips gave him such pleasure nevertheless (which was perhaps his
greatest humiliation). I tried to make him feel that he was still infinitely
superior to me by licking his stinking feet thoroughly clean, crawling from
one to the other - and whenever I heard a rumbling in his guts, promising
the inevitable fart, I quickly shoved my face where it belonged, between his
large, round, beaten buttocks, so that he would know the prison pig was
smelling and sucking it down.

After a while, he whispered "...piss..." and the pig's mouth found itself
immediately on the end of his stinking cock, ready to receive the foul
liquid expelled by his punished body. The stinking liquid began to pour out
as the slave knelt behind the punished youth, its head between the youth's
whipped thighs and under his big buttocks, its mouth round the cockhead
gulping the liquid down. When the flow eventually stopped, a slight rumble
in the youth's guts signaled the arrival of yet another fart, which was duly
captured by the pig's mouth and nose. I did my best to show him that he was
still superior to me, in spite of what had been done to him in front of his
brother and the prison pig by his father. I did not want to let him think
that I despised him in his humiliation - after all, tomorrow would be
another day, and I would once more be his helpless prisoner, and did not
want him to take revenge on me for enjoying his degradation. I expected he
would do so anyway, but at least whatever he would do to me might be
mitigated in part by my dutiful and loving attentions to him now.

Eventually, he grew tired and sagged against his restraining belt. I humbly
asked him if I should untie the rope binding his hands together - but he
quickly said no, that if his father came back and found he had been released
without his permission, he would be punished even more severely, not to
mention me (any manner of unspeakable horror might be done to me for daring
to disobey the farmer's wishes). Clearly, it was the farmer's intention that
his son should spend the whole night there, naked and beaten in front of the
prison slave, just for daring to share a moment of intimacy with him. As he
began to doze fitfully, hanging against the wooden post by his brother's
tightly-buckled belt, he whispered: "It'll be your turn tomorrow - he'll
think it was your fault. That's what happened last time..."

It was then that I became afraid as I lay down on the filthy floor, with my
head between the youth's feet, placing one of them on my face as a final
gesture of humility...