Date: Sat, 10 Nov 2007 08:14:16 -0500 From: J.J. Subject: Ingemar's Farm The following story contains sex between a young teen and an adult. If it is illegal for you to read such material because of nationality, age or whatever else, don't. I am dedicating this to Sister Farrar, my teacher at the Christian academy I had to go to. I wrote this shortly after she got upset with me because of a vocabulary exercise I'd turned in. Well, to tell you the truth, that exercise wasn't all that challenging anyway. So I was wondering if I could use all 15 words in just one sentence. (And I did, even if the result was a bit convoluted.) But Sister Farrar wasn't at all impressed and told me to do it over like I was supposed to. You know, 15 seperate sentences. And since I'd already made one visit to the headmaster's office that day, I did what she said, but I had to throw in 15 bonus words that were NOT in the original exercise. Really BIG words. Which would be when she told me I was nothing but a little smart mouth who liked to use big words to impress myself. And I WAS sort of impressed. And I also ended up being sent to the office again. I definitely have some issues with authority. But anyway, that incident inspired me to write this story. But maybe I should explain that I'm employing some archaic language and I'm also being pretentious. But the style mimics the style of several "inspirational" stories we were expected to read. And I'd had quite enough of them. Especially "Bart Williams, Young Christian Warrior." I mean, BLEUGH! Ingemar's Farm and the events that led up to it. My name is Bart. At the present, I am but 14 years of age. Never would I have dreamed that I would write to an organization such as your's which so systematically encourages indiscriminate immorality, but then prior to the past few weeks, never in my worse nightmare would I have imagined myself in my present situation. If I may venture to say so, once I was a young man of unusually bright prospects, but now I discover myself in the lowest depths of poverty-stricken degradation. Kind sirs, I am no less a sinner than any one of you and it is in this spirit that I now take pen in hand, for I fear only sinners such as yourselves could possibly understand. Indeed, once I was wholesome. No profane or vulgar language was ever heard from my lips. I was faithful and dependable. And I was pure. I swore to my saintly, widowed and crippled mother that I would never yield to temptations of the flesh, even though when I took that vow out in the small vegetable garden I so gladly helped her tend, I must confess I had precious little idea what guise temptations of the flesh might take so as to ensnare me. Because of my purity, my schoolmates persecuted me and hurled vile epithets at me, sorely vexing my sensibilities. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" I would reply and I would turn my back on those who made light of me and be on my way, but should the truth be known, their words stung like an adder. Due to my saintly widowed and crippled mother's condition, I had no time for idle pastimes save possibly one, and even then it was only with her encouragement that I took part in the boy's choir. Although I blush to say it, I have a voice which many have likened to that of an angel. The events that led to my present state began early this summer when our choir went to a rustic mountain retreat for five days of intensive preparation for the following school year. I was not just a little surprised by my mother's insistence that I attend, but after repeated assurances that she could manage without me, at least for five days, I went with a glad heart. Ah, but my bliss was short lived, for I was entirely unprepared for my room mate's vile ways. I found myself sharing a room overlooking the pool with three other boys; Spencer, Charles and Danny. Their language was abominable and profane and their vulgar jokes appealed only to man's basest appetites. Beyond that, not one of them possessed even the slightest sense of modesty. Spencer and Danny slept in their underdrawers and all of them were prone to changing their clothes, including even their underclothes without bothering to first retire into the bathroom behind closed door. Yet as unsettling as all this was, it paled in comparison to what took place on the final night. Now we had a strict curfew (as well we should), and no choir member was to venture out of their assigned rooms after hours. Anyone caught doing so would be sent home the very next morning. But in spite of this, my three roommates apparently made a pact with several younger boys of low moral character, none of whom were older than 12. I was unaware of this until FOUR THIRTY in the a.m. of the night in question when I was awakened by excited whispering and stirring about. My roommates were at that moment all at a window peering out intently in the direction of the pool; so I crept from my bed wondering what the hubbub was about, and there the young lads were, SWIMMING with the pool lights burning brightly! (And it should go almost without saying that 4:30 was well past our curfew!) Even worse, with the exception of a young 11-year-old named Franklin, they were were clad in nothing more than their underdrawers! Although I had some prior knowledge in regard to several of the young lad's behavior; which can only be described as most unbecoming; I was shocked almost beyond belief, but discovering Franklin to be even marginally involved in such impropriety was almost more than I could bear! Until that awful night, slender dark haired Franklin had struck me as a refreshingly quiet and innocent young lad. I simply could not believe my eyes! At first I thought perhaps he had been cruelly tricked, and indeed at first there did seem some hope that such might prove to be the case, as in comparison to the others, he seemed to be more modestly dressed in a tee shirt which was at least of sufficient length to cover his loins. Our room was far enough removed from the pool to render some details unclear; which was all the better of course; but I was relieved to note that Franklin's underdrawers were not on display for all to see. Only then as my sleepy eyes cleared, it became horrifyingly apparent that he was not wearing any other garment save for that shirt and the water had transformed it into little more than the veil of a water urchin formed from sea foam! I should have immediately looked away, I should have fled that room and in all haste reported to our choir director, but alas I did not do so. Oh, what a wonderful world it would be if only all of us did everything we SHOULD have! Oh, I rationalized that possibly the lads had permission to swim before daybreak, even though I knew in my heart that it could not be so, and even if it were, did this give me an excuse to gaze at their immodesty? Of course it did not, yet I did so with horrified fascination. I will no longer pretend that I was anything less than a vile beast, even though I strove mightily to so that night. Pitifully transparent though it must inevitably be, I tried to convince myself I was only there to fully ascertain all the rules being disregarded, but even as it became ever more apparent that my roommates were not the least surprised by this wanton display (and it seems quite probable they had instigated the sordid affair) I still could scarce deny the unwholesome feeling which was at that very moment flooding my loins. Even so, at least I manfully averted my gaze. I was poised at the brink, yet for a brief moment I resisted and was returning to my bed. However, it was at this point that Danny glanced in my direction and then with a crude guffaw nudged Spencer who in turn nudged Charles. "Oh would you take a look at St.Bart" exclaimed Spencer, then to me, "You're really getting into this, ain't you?" Then with off-color asides the threesome returned their attention to the scene of depravity which continued in the pool below. My face aflame with dawning recognition, it was then that I realized my massive male member had betrayed my innermost thoughts for all to observe. A quick downward glance affirmed that it quite literally had become like a huge pointing finger straining against the thin fabric of my pajamas. Would that I were twelve again and my loathsome appendage was not yet a veritable millstone! Surely it is Satan's work, for at times I swear it has grown to a length of nigh upon 11 7/16 inches, without my being conscious of any disgraceful thought whatsoever! And it's girth is nearly equal to that of an ax handle! Ignoring their remarks as best I could, I returned in shame to my bed. Oh, would that I had covered my ears with my pillow but I neglected to do so, and thus it was that I heard Danny (with a awful oath that cannot be repeated) say, "------ of ---, Mike's really going to do it!" "Do what?" thought I. What further unthinkable depth of depravity had the young lad sunk to? Oh, but at least it was not Franklin's name he had mentioned. Perhaps he had fled the scene with some honor intact before the debauchery reached it's nadir. And therefore, even though I still well knew it was my duty to report the disgraceful events in progress, I was able to rationalize that I merely wished to protect Franklin's good name as much as was possible in light of what had already occurred and I further rationalized that it was also my duty to ascertain what events were in fact occurring at that moment, distasteful though it was. And beyond that, I hardly need add that modesty still prevented my immediate departure. And so it was with these thoughts in mind that I again left my bed and returned to a vacant window. Alas, Franlin was still in the pool even though sevaral of the young lads had by then removed even their underdrawers and others were suggestively toying with that last vestige of clothing as well! But at least Franklin had not further disgraced himself in that manner. Perhaps, I thought, he now realized precisely what was taking place and would soon be on his way, and it did seem for a moment that my hopes would be realized as he did in fact climb out of the pool. For a brief moment, he stood there with his back turned to us, seemingly torn by indecision. "Flee!" thought I, "oh flee away!" and even though it smacks of the black art that is the occult, I even attempted to project my thoughts to him. But then without warning he reached down, grasped the hem of his shirt, pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. Then before I could avert my eyes, he TURNED and dove back into the pool. And then with a loud hurrah; or so it seemed to me; the others also climbed out of the pool and removed their underdrawers and although it shames me greatly, I will admit I had become so unhinged I had resolved to look at each and every one of them, at the various shapes and sizes of their private parts, even to make note of the unmistakable signs of lustful thoughts being entertained! Satan is indeed a powerful adversary! But it was at this point that I became aware of an even more powerful stirring in my loins. As I have previously stated, never had I indulged in sins of the flesh nor was I precisely sure what constituted such a sin, but some months before I had at my mother's behest talked with our minister of youth man-to-man. To be truthful, I contributed little to the conversation, nor did I entirely understand the subject he spoke of; in fact, I must say I understood almost none of it except that it obviously was a most distasteful subject and I grieved to see our youth minister in such a state. But even so, he did mention the spilling of one's seed and how it was a great abomination unless within the bounds of holy matrimony while performing one's husbandly duty for the purpose of conception. How I know not, but when I felt that stirring in my loins, I knew beyond a doubt that I was on the verge of spilling my seed, that the sticky moistness I felt was but the first tiny trickle of a flood on the verge of being unleashed and so with a terrible cry, I sprang to my feet and raced for the shower. Such was my haste, I did not even bother to undress! A cold shower was one of the preventive measures suggested by our youth minister and fortunately, after a few minutes the tide was stemmed. Most relieved, I stepped out of the shower and undressed. My night clothes were unfit to wear of course, so I hung them to dry. Then after drying myself, I girded my loins with the towel and stepped back into our room so as to gather my clothes. Never would I have imagined the hellish scene which presented itself to my eyes! Danny was entirely naked and at that moment was lewdly and rhythmically stroking his swollen male member in a manner that I had never considered although I will admit to having heard some crude schoolboy remarks pertaining to the subject. Charles was unclothed from the waist down and he was industriously stroking his swollen male member also. Worse still, Spencer was lying naked upon my BED, with his underdrawers on his head and likewise he was indecently stroking his swollen member and lewdly gyrating his body. Then before my horrified eyes, he struggled to his knees without slowing his obscene stroking and suddenly his seed gushed out! Upon my bed!! Then Danny's foul seed erupted and splattered on the wall!! At that point I fled into the bathroom and locked the door, but even so I could scarce help but hear Charles vilely exclaim that he had topped them both! Exactly how so is too awful to contemplate! I stayed locked in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, having heard no sound for over ten minutes, I cautiously cracked open the door. The room was empty! I then hurriedly dressed and marched forthwith to the choir director's room, but I did take one final perfunctory glance out our window before leaving and just as I suspected, the boys were swimming with the younger lads and all were completely naked! Fortunately I did not have to relate every sordid detail, in fact I only tearfully stated that my roommates were at that moment swimming with a group of younger boys and the choir director was headed for the pool at a dead run. Soon enough the curfew-breakers; Franklin included, were packed and on their way to the bus station before the sun even rose in the east, even though the rest of us would be bidding adieu to our mountain retreat shortly after the noon hour that same day. Oh, if looks could kill, I surely would have died a thousand deaths that day. Almost without exception every single boy stared at me with murderous intent, either that or they very studiously ignored me during the remaining hours of our stay and for most of our homeward trip. But it was as we drew near our school that I first began to hear certain thinly veiled threats to my person. Should these threats prove real, then I was in grave danger. Therefore, no sooner had our bus rolled to a stop behind our school than I was off and running for my life, taking no heed of my luggage, as I could pick that up later with mother. Of course I would have made arrangements to be driven home by our choir director, but when I alighted from the bus he and all the other adults in our party were talking heatedly with a group of waiting parents. At the very beginning it seemed my unexpected headlong dash for home had caught everyone entirely off guard, and those members of the choir who were either still on the bus or just getting off naturally could not be so obvious as to immediately take off in hot pursuit, but then of course many of my choir mates were ALREADY home. In retrospect, I would have been better advised to have taken some route home other than that which I almost always took. My normal route followed a meandering path through a modest patch of woods and then on across a large cleared-off area which is soon to be yet another monument to conspicuous and wasteful consumption. At any rate, I had no more than entered into the woods when suddenly and with loud blood curdling screams, Franklin, Mike, Jonah and perhaps ten other young lads, many of whom were entirely unknown to me, burst out from behind some bushes and took off after me. Upon entering the woods I had slowed to a fast walk so as to catch my breath, but with the first shower of fair-sized rocks I naturally began running for all I was worth and since the youngsters stopped at least twice to gather still more rocks, I was soon far ahead of them. Unfortunately, it was just as I was about to leave the dubious protection of the woods that I made a most horrible discovery, for not fifty yards beyond I saw none other than Charles, Spencer and Danny, and it seemed plain enough who they were waiting for. How fortunate it seemed at the time that I had not just blindly burst out of the woods, but had instead stopped to survey the area, thus seeing them before they spied me. Now I wonder if it might not have been better by far to have just taken my beating. But of course it matters little what might have been; what MIGHT have been I shall never know. What DID happen was that I turned and fled posthaste back from whence I had come. I hoped fervently with all my heart to reach a fork in the trail before meeting up again with the younger boys and I do think that had I been able to do so, I may well have made good my escape, but as fate would have it, I all but ran into their very arms! It was very nearly too awful to contemplate. Never for a single instant would I have thought them capable of such violence! Furthermore, their language was so vile as to make even a sailor blush and sad to say, Franklin was as profane as any of them. It seemed a hundred blows rained on my unprotected body, a thousand stinging slaps struck my tear-stained face and more than a few times did a foot cruelly catch me in my private region. I could do nothing but close my eyes and I sought to curl up into a tiny ball, but still they tore at me and they tore at my clothes! First, every button on my bright green shirt was ripped loose and I felt the fabric tearing; indeed they did not stop until my shirt was ripped to shreds! My mother made that shirt with her very own hands! But the worse was yet to come. Even though I would never have believed it, I next discovered my trousers being unfastened! "Stop!" I screamed, "In the name of decency, please stop!" but it was to no avail. Oh, how I struggled and squirmed and kicked. Oh how I shouted! I even opened my eyes! Would that my eyes had remained shut, would that I had been struck blind for ever more, for what did I behold but FRANKLIN pulling my trousers and underdrawers completely off, and still neither he or any other boy had the decency to avert their eyes from my private region and in that horrible condition they held me down until even my shoes and socks were torn away and then all my clothes were flung far up into a tree. Then their terrible handiwork done, the boys raced away laughing, leaving me to find my way home as best I could. For over a minute I could do naught but sob my heart out! Then I came to my senses and began to climb after my clothes. As fate would have it, they hung well out upon a limb, a good ten feet above the ground. Although I had never before climbed a tree, finally I was able to make my way out onto the limb which fortunately was quite sturdy. I stood up carefully holding tight to an overhanging limb and began to walk out. Unfortunately, only a few feet short of my goal my tormentors returned once again, every one of them plus at least that many more, one armed with a camera! Instinct at this point took over and my hands flew to cover my privates but this only caused me to fall headlong to the ground! Somehow, no bones were broken and with a terrible cry, I sprang to my feet and took flight, my massive male member swinging violently about like a pendulum gone berserk. As I mention this, I am blushing deeply, but mention it I must if I am to arrive at the crux of this affair. In little time at all my adversaries were far behind me, should the truth be known, when last I glanced over my shoulder, the final four in sight were rolling on the ground, clutching their sides and laughing like a hundred demons. Nevertheless I did not for one instant slow my pace, indeed if it is possible I nearly doubled it but still I could never be unaware of that flapping appendage between my legs which was dreadfully bouncing hither and yon in a most unseemly manner and sad to report, by the time I burst out of the woods, it had become like granite. Beyond a doubt, the assault had rendered me completely insane for never did I so much as take pause. I was hardly unaware of my nudity, yet from the cover of the woods into that wide open space I sped like a bullet. Oh, I dared not look either to my left or my right, as though by not seeing I might somehow remain unseen, and I dared not glance down at my madly bouncing male member. Although rigidity had stayed it's terrible slapping on my thighs, it still slammed up into my stomach again and again and again with great rapidity. On I ran, sobbing, the wind whistling by my ears, past Danny, Charles and Spencer, who startled at first leapt up to give chase, but soon became like laughing hyenas rolling in the dirt, through ditches and over gullies, past a covey of astounded bicyclists who fell from their bikes with a loud clang and clatter, but I never slowed my pace in the least, for now I was once again aware of a renewed stirring in my loins that only grew in it's urgency with each and every bounce, yet I ran on as though to outdistance that terrible implacable tide and when I reached the street that went by my own house, I dare say I ran faster still, hearing from what seemed a great distance the blaring of horns, the loud screeching of tires and the vile curses, on down my sidewalk I flew like the wind, past droning lawnmowers and startled shouts, on through my front GATE and I felt near bursting, but on around my house I went, through the back door and gasping into the kitchen, but alas, it was then in front of my own MOTHER'S disbelieving and horrified eyes that my male member quaked and jerked and spewed on the kitchen floor, on the kitchen table, on a foot stool and even on the wall and so with a terrible wail, I crashed through the door of my room where I dove into my bed and pulled the covers up over my head. Oh, but I was not long in bed, for my mother hobbled in, roughly pulled me from beneath my covers and without ceremony began to beat my naked back and hindquarters with her cane and several switches. She scourged me until I bled, until the switches were worn away! Then she produced still MORE switches and bade me to return to the kitchen. All atremble, I did her command. "Place your thing up on the table!" she said loudly, "Put it right there in that foul mess you left!" I quavered, "My thing?" "Yes, your THING!" she thundered and with that she delivered a stinging switch right upon it. I could not even begin to consider such a thing. "No! Oh please mother," I begged, "I cannot do it!" Then she took my member with her own hand, placed it on the table in the foul sticky liquid it had spewed and holding it in place like a large hideous slug, she grimly whipped it with switches until it was sore, nor did she stop in deference to my loud shrieking, but then it AGAIN began to rise up! It is demon possessed, I swear it! And so it was at this juncture that my mother cast me out without even a wash cloth to cover my nakedness and bade me never to darken her door again and in tears I went away and hid in some bushes until a Mr. Smith (in whose bushes I was hid) sought me out and comforted me and gave me shelter. Not only that, he bathed me from head to toe and when my loathsome appendage reared up once again, he told me not to be ashamed. But enough of this! Only at this very instant have I decided once and for all to fully admit the almost limitless depths of my awful and totally despicable depravity. I am a purposeless, shiftless, aimless, namby-pamby, wishy-washy, unambitious, stunted, dwarfed specimen of humanity! There can be no doubt that I indeed am the foul fruitage of moral decadence! My seed has been spilled more times than I have fingers on my hands and toes on my feet! Many more times! And I must further confess that I soon enough discovered that there were more than just a few ways of setting this awful event into motion. But on that fateful day when first Mr. Smith coaxed me out of his petunia bushes and comforted me and bathed me from head to toe; when first he stroked my male member, I said, "Sir, I am very much afraid of what may soon happen!" "Oh fiddle-dee" he replied, "you just have excess fluids built up. It's a quite common thing with boys your age but you mustn't let these fluids remain trapped inside your... your... Oh, my word! I have NEVER seen one so LARGE in all my life!" Those were his exact words, kind sirs. Of course I blushed. And that before he took advantage of me. <><><><><><><><><><><> Several months have passed. While my manner is still austere and my countenance severe, I know that the insanity I was warned of is taking ever more control of my very essence. And thus it is that I must speak plainly. I must call a spade and spade, a penis a penis and an anus an anus, distasteful though that may be. A few weeks after being cast out of my home, I was transported by Mr. Smith to Minneapolis and it was there at a supermarket that I met a man named Ingemar. He exuded an aura of mystery that attracted me. And so when he asked me to leave with him for Seattle, I did so with no second thoughts, a decision I would soon regret. When I went to sleep in the back of his Jeep we were approximately fifty miles northwest of Minneapolis on I-94. When I awoke, we were on little more than a dirt trail, with nothing but woods on both sides. For hours on end I saw no sign of civilization, only woods and more woods, so finally I asked where we were going. His only reply was "To the farm awhile." "The farm", when finally we arrived, was nothing more than a ramshackle cabin deep in the woods. We were a hundred miles from the nearest major highway. There was no running water or electricity. There wasn't even an outhouse, never mind a bathroom, yet obviously Ingemar planned to spend the night there. I had no toilet articles, although at least there was a bar of what appeared to be homemade soap. Water for bathing had to be carried from a nearby lake and there was a only a small wash basin inside the cabin, so in order to take a complete bath, I had no recourse but to go into the lake. To make matters worse, I had only the clothes on my back, which I even had to sleep in, since I had no pajamas. He had promised to buy additional clothes, pajamas, toilet articles and the like, but he reneged on that promise. The next day, I was awakened before dawn. "Breakfast" was an unpalatable concoction of stewed vegetables. Then at first light, I was shown his garden, almost two acres of corn, tomatoes, beans, okra, carrots and weeds. An inordinate amount of weeds. "So how do you like it?" he asked. "It's nice" I answered politely if not truthfully. Then I wondered when we were continuing on to Seattle. "I think we'll just stay here for awhile" he answered. I exclaimed, "WHAT?" I was then told in no uncertain terms that I was expected to work from sunup till sundown, hoeing that garden and chopping wood. But after ten minutes of backbreaking labor, I was forced to admit that I had made a terrible mistake in judgment and if it was all the same to him, I wished to be returned to Mr. Smith. Ingemar became visibly upset and said in reply (and these were his exact words), "This is your home now and you will do as you're told or I'll tear your ass up boy! I mean it! Now get back to work!" Needless to say, I very quickly did so, even though completion of that task appeared as likely as my cleaning the Augean Stables. Shortly afterwards Ingemar returned and he was not pleased with my progress. I soon learned what I could expect if such was the case. "You ain't done a thing since I told you to get back to work. I reckon I'll have to show you I mean business. Now drop your pants and bend over!" With great reluctance and trembling hands, I stood up and started unfastening my jeans, all the while begging to be taken back. Suddenly, a powerful hand clamped around the back of my neck and both my jeans and my underdrawers were jerked down and seconds later I felt the first searing lash tearing into my exposed hind quarters and I screamed. What he struck me with appeared to be a riding crop, except it was composed of eight narrow leather strips. No heed was paid to my screams, in fact I was told to be quiet or it would only get worse, which was certainly difficult for me to imagine. It seemed the whipping would never end, but at long last it was over and as you might imagine, from that moment I did exactly as I was told. In his words, if he told me to jump, I would only ask how far. For eight days I worked from sunup till sundown, irregardless of the painful blisters on my hands. The situation I found myself in was nearly intolerable, but at least for eight days I avoided another whipping. I most certainly did not wish to go through that experience again! But finally on the ninth day came a respite, as Ingemar had to drive nearly forty miles to the nearest general store for some supplies. In the meantime he advised me to take a good bath in the lake because quite frankly I smelled, and then to "rest up", as there was still much work to be done. Not expecting him back any earlier than late that afternoon, I took SEVERAL baths. Also, I washed my clothes as best I could and laid them out on the dock to dry. After eight days of hard labor in dirty, sweaty clothes it felt wonderful to lie naked in the warm sun, for at least a few precious hours without a care in the world. Before long I once again began to pleasure myself, something I had not done since my ill-advised decision to leave with Ingemar and in spite of the utter hopelessness I felt in regard to my immediate future, I soon experienced an eruption of some magnitude. Then roughly an hour later I decided to indulge myself again, only this time I decided to also stimulate my anus. Although I felt great guilt over this, (I was not yet beyond ALL shame), thanks to Mr. Smith I had discovered that this unseemly place was indeed an erogenous zone. And so it was that I soon found a large carrot, returned to the lake, washed the vegetable, lubricated my anus with soap, then returned to shore and lay on my back with my legs supported by a tree trunk. I slid myself toward the tree until I was practically standing on my head. Then I let my legs swing open until they were splayed wide apart and in that deplorable position I pushed the soapy carrot in and began to work it with one hand while pulling on my penis with my other. However, only seconds removed from the inevitable conclusion, who should I spy looming upside down above me but Ingemar! He was not amused. And it should go without saying that neither was I. I was quite horrified. Had he done nothing more than look at me with utter disgust, it still would have been one of the most awful moments in my life. I collapsed into a heap, my face flushed crimson, and with a hiss of escaping gas, the carrot popped out. Even if I live to a hundred, never will I forget that small awful sound. Of course one never quite knows what to say in awkward situations such as that, and try as I might, no explanation came readily to mind. Finally he broke the silence. "Boy, it seems you might be suffering from a bit of constipation." I replied, "Uh, I uh, uh well..." and then gave up. "Well, I think I know just the thing for what ails you" he said, then he took off his belt. I curled up into a fetal position, expecting the worse. Only I was soon to discover that I had no idea what "the worse" could entail. He looped the belt around my ankles, then suddenly I found myself pulled into the air and I was hanging from a limb, my head roughly three feet above the ground. He studied my predicament briefly, then said, "Gonna have to make sure you keep your hands off your prick" and with that, he removed his trousers and tied my hands. He wore no underwear and his penis was fully erect! However he only left me hanging there, so as he headed back in the direction of the cabin I could only wonder what thoughts had entered his head. I hung there for very nearly two hours, of that I am sure, but at last he returned. By that time I was beginning to wonder if he intended to leave me there hanging by my ankles to slowly starve, so as you might imagine, I was relieved to see him. But he was still unclothed and from all appearances no less aroused. He had with him a large box. He sat the box down and removed from it that eight thonged whip, a quart of motor oil, two quarts of soapy water and a large funnel. Then after casually spinning me around for a few minutes he asked, "Constipation still troubling you any?" "Wh-what are you go-go-going to do?" I asked. I had a terrible case of vertigo. "Oh nothing much, just gonna see if we can cure you of poking things up your butt hole." He then released the belt from the tree limb and I fell into a heap on the ground. He untied me and marched me wobbling out to the dock. He then forced me to kneel, after which he pushed my head down and positioned it until the side of my face rested on the dock's surface. Then I knew with a terrible certainty what was soon to occur and I was sure I would not find the experience enjoyable. His penis was nearly equal in length to my own and it's girth that of a very large cucumber! Or perhaps a medium-sized one. But it was still quite large. However, he did not attempt to force THAT into my hole; instead he inserted the funnel and then poured in the warm soapy water and the motor oil. Due to my earlier injudicious poking about, I was in great need of evacuation and thus the introduction of that noxious concoction into my system caused more than just a little bubbling and hissing which embarrassed me to no end, but still I was forced to remain in that kneeling position for roughly twenty minutes. All the while, my need to evacuate grew, but above all else I hoped that I might somehow be able to hold it in until I was hopefully allowed some privacy. Strange as it must seem, this was my greatest concern. However it soon became quite apparent that he did not care in the least if I answered the call of nature in his presence. After roughly twenty minutes I was made to walk out to the end of the dock and then with my back turned to the lake, squat with my legs spread wide apart. I was allowed to balance myself by spreading my hands on the dock, then he picked up the whip and waded out until he was directly behind me. The lake was very shallow at first, so the end of the dock was only three feet above the lake bottom. Soon enough I felt the sting of the whip and though my first whipping had been severe, this time it was beyond all belief. At times he rained lash after lash with such great rapidity I could not have counted the blows even had I been so inclined, then at other times perhaps as much as thirty seconds might have elapsed between blows, but through it all I held the straining weight inside my bowels in check. I had been warned in no uncertain terms not to move or glance back, but when that whip once again painfully wrapped itself around my testicles which dangled and bobbed unprotected between my spread legs, I fell forward on my knees and instinctively clutched at myself. It was then that I made an almost unbelievable discovery, for my penis was sticky with fluid! I had but a fleeting instant to consider that mystery though, as the whip was cutting painfully into my soft upper thighs which had before been out of harm's way. "I TOLD...you..not... to.. MOVE!" he screamed. "Now.. get.. UP!" I struggled to do so, but suddenly and with little warning the foul liquid concoction spewed out like a geyser, jetting at least ten feet out into the lake. Of course once started, I was powerless to stop the arching stream and it continued unabated for at least two or three minutes. But he stayed his whip, of that you can be quite sure. He seemed quite amazed. But at last the torrent was finished. It was then that he forced me to wade out into the lake with him. At first I was afraid his intention was to drown me! However, we only waded out to a depth of about three feet, then he gently washed me from head to toe, skipping not one area of my body and paying particular attention to my private places and soon enough my penis was quite engorged. Unfortunately, at this point he became even more aroused and this time my initial fears were realized. When we returned to shore, he first forced me to take his huge penis into my mouth. It proved impossible to get in much more beyond the velvety soft mushroom shaped head of the thing, but still he made me suck on it. It smelled rancid. I was very relieved when he withdrew it without erupting, but as it turned out, he only did so because he wished to impale me with it. He sat down, grasped my waist, turned me facing him and in a manner of speaking I was forced to SIT on it. He quite literally drove me down on it, as though he was driving an iron pipe into an opening somewhat smaller in circumference, and in spite of my grunts and howls of pain, he did not pause until he had hilted it inside of me, then he had me wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Then he stood up! After which he started running! And on several occasions he jumped vigorously up and down! I spread my legs as widely apart as was humanly possible and the pain was unrelenting; but as we madly bounced along the path back to the cabin, my penis erupted. I was afraid I would be whipped again for that, but instead he collapsed to his knees and threw me to the ground on my back with his engorged member still lodged inside me. "Pull your legs up and wide open as you can boy!" I did so and after a few savage thrusts I felt that hot liquid surging, then his penis began to soften and at last he pulled it out. However I was soon to discover my trials were far from over, as once again I was sent off to work in the garden and as though that was not enough, apparently from that point on I was expected to wear one of his jock straps and nothing else, as he burned my clothes. Then when the sun finally set he marched me to the front porch, bent me over and had his way with me once again and this time his savage thrusting continued for at least forty minutes. Then an hour afterwards, he once again forced me to suck on the velvety soft mushroom shaped head of his penis and this time it was to completion. He was insatiable! And so late that night as he lay snoring in a drunken stupor, I crept from our bed. Once again I gazed at his penis and then took it into my mouth for a short time. Then I conked him over his head, tied him securely to the bed, after which I took what money I could find, a pair of his trousers, a belt to secure them at the waist and the keys to the Jeep. Eventually I made my way to Vancouver, British Columbia where I am now a prostitute. In all honesty I enjoy my work, but I have few regrets in regard to Ingemar. Although had it not been for that damn garden, I might still be with him. <><><><><><><><><><><> I don't suppose this particular story will be continued. Which hopefully isn't TOO big of a relief, but at any rate, I'm all done now. But for what it's worth, the part about Ingemar was inspired by an entirely different incident which occurred just before the start of last summer. When I was still at home. Which I keyed in only an hour or so after my hands finally stopped shaking. It was early in the afternoon. I was home alone, as the others were out grocery shopping. The shopping was to be after a couple of pastorial calls, so it seemed unlikely that they would be back for awhile. I no longer had that paper route to worry about as we were soon to leave for Minneapolis and there was no use in planting a garden. So for a couple of hours I was free to do pretty much as I pleased. And so I went out on our back porch, took my clothes off and sat around reveling in my nudity for awhile. Only the top half of the porch is open, you see. And since it was unlikely anyone could see me, soon enough I decided to whack off. Only just before losing it, I had a REALLY good idea. So leaving my clothes on the back porch I padded into the kitchen, (our back door leads out to the back porch), went to the refrigerator and selected a fairly large carrot. I ran hot water over it to warm it up a bit, lubricated myself, lay on my back with my legs up against the kitchen wall, then slid towards the wall until I was practically standing on my head. Then I let my legs swing open until they were splayed wide apart and in that position I pushed the soapy carrot into my hole and began to work it with one hand while pulling on my penis with the other. But only seconds from what should have been a wonderful climax, I heard my folks at the front door! Which was a definite HO-LY SHIT moment. But fortunately the front door was locked, so by the time my folks got in and headed for the KITCHEN I was out in the back yard. Being found in the back yard naked would have been bad, being found in the kitchen with a carrot up my ass would have been much worse. And I had the foresight to close the back door behind me, so nobody stuck their head out to see why the door was left open. And nobody had any other reason to look out the back door, none of my neighbors saw me, and after a few panic-stricken moments I... SLITHERED back to the porch, snatched my clothes, then literally rolled into the bushes surrounding our house. Then who should I hear but my old man hollering, "Hey J.J. You home? We need some help with these groceries." But I didn't say a word. I was getting dressed. Fortunately, I am somewhat more skilled in this department than when I was five. Then innocently I walked back into the house as though nothing had happened, although I was a bit out of breath. (And I did take the carrot out the door with me.) (In case you were wondering.) <><><><><><><><><><><><> Oh, and in case you were wondering about "Getting Kicked Out of the House", well, after careful consideration I've decided to conk it in the head also. Because I wrote myself into a hole. Well, right. I wrote myself into Mr. Tench's basement. Which seemed like a good idea at first and it certainly might be for someone else, but not my alter-ego. Becuse you know what? I have serious isssues with authority, so it's not going to work. Everything I've written up till now (with the exception of the story just completed, which was for the pure fucking hell of it) was from my viewpoint. I mean J.J. was really me. And even in the fantasies, he was role-playing; how he would have reacted had he found himself in that situation. I can PLAY the submissive role, but only if I know beforehand I can stop the game anytime I want. Which may defeat the entire PURPOSE of the game I suppose, but that's just how it is. jjjanicki@gmail.com