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From: "T. Chase McPhee" <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
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Subject: "Buffalo Boys" 07 (M/M oral anal corporal punishment)
Date: Fri, 07 Apr 2006 03:22:56 -0500
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===================

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this story by law. Check with your local laws
regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is
fiction. Use protection in real life. ‘Got condom?’

"Buffalo Boys" 07 (M/M oral anal corporal punishment)
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

“This is the life!”

”Don’t get use to it, Yves!” Nick cautioned the
Coyotes’ counselor.

As ‘payment’ for victory, the Coyotes determined a
rubdown would suffice, in lieu of a celebration.
Unlike their past experiences, partying after a
college win, they knew they wouldn’t be able to get
their hands on a keg of beer. So, sprawled out on the
sandy beach of Indian Lake, eight Coyote Lodge members
and counselor, lay on their chests, chins propped up
on their tee shirts, as fingers probed their backs.

“Lower, Dougie?”

”Oh don’t you worry, Chad. I’m gonna get plenty lower,
later... and deep!”

Already cocks, from either camp, protruded, the tip of
each massager, shoveled into the sand. The man on
bottom, being massaged, squirmed, grinding their hard
erection into the warm sand.

On the better side of an hour, the sand began to get
milky.

“Why don’t you use something else to massage me?” 

“Here? Now? You for real?” Miguel questioned Roi
Falkenhagen, the eighteen year old Dutch jock.

“Noooooo, we can’t fuck around now. Maybe we can find
some time to ourselves later, Miguel?”

”I don’t know Roi. I never fucked a guy before.”

”Then that would make us even.”

Miguel insinutates, “Why? You never get fucked?”

”Nope, but I think I want to.”

”I know I want to fuck a guy, Roi.”

”How do you ‘know’ know, Miguel?”

”Something inside me I guess. Like a basic instinct, I
have this desire to jamb my hard cock up a guy’s ass.
I think.”

”Then maybe later we should find out. I mean, I’d like
to know what I want, too?”

The two couldn’t have put it any easier, for the
other.

Overhearing the two, Yves softly says to Nick, turning
his head to the counselor rubbing his shoulders, “I
think it’s time we’ve set the boys straight?”

“You want to fill them in?”

”Nah, let you break the bad news to them.”

”Thanks,” Nick replied, slapping Yves on the bare
buns.

Standing, getting ready to do Yve’s dirty work as
well, Nick rubbed his hands together.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Even though it would have paired the two camps up
perfectly, eight Coyotes to eight Buffalo lodgers,
some of the Coyotes opted to bask in the sun, their
shirts covering their privates, so as not to over
indulge. This gave Marat and Doug the opportunity to
share themselves with Chad.

“Ah, whenver you’re ready, Marat and Doug... ahem!”

“We’re listening,” the two boasted out at the same
time.

“Want to knock it off, Chad?” Nick stepped out of his
the jurisdiction of Buffalo camp, with permission.

“Yeah, sure,” Chad replied, taking time out from his
head propped, faced down, in Dougie’s lap.

He sat up, keeping Marat from massaging his blades.

“I know you’re not going to like this dismal news, but
we’ve already ‘bent’ them this morning. From now,
going forwards, all campers are to refrain from any
sexual activity.”

Looking down at Yves, kept Nick from getting the looks
from the both camp of boys, slinging complaints as if
mudpies, at the counselor. Up from the sand Dougie,
the more bold of any of the eight, jumped, right in
Nick’s face.

“That’s a fuckin’ invasion of our gay civil rights!”

On his tale, Chad, getting the bold idea from Dougie,
incited his own riot, confronting the counselor of
Coyote Lodge, accidentally kicking sand in his face.

“What tha fuck!” Yves said, rising up from his lain
down position, to his knees.

“Oh sorry. Kicking the sand in your face wasn’t
intentional.”

”Like hell it wasn’t!” Yves accused the nineteen year
old.

“Fuckin’ what do I care!”

“I don’t much care for your attitude, young man,” face
to face, Yves addressed him, now disgusted with Chad’s
manner of approach. 

Neither of the counselors much approved of the display
of rudeness on Dougie’s, nor Chad’s part. Not that
anybody owed them anything for their random acts of
kindness this morning. Unlike some of the other
lodges, instead of a volleyball game and a dip in the
lake, now taking it easy, bathing in the sun, they
could have been like the others, parading their troops
all over the grounds, doing strenuous activities.

“I guess we’ve taken these boys for granite,” Nick
misinterpeted the phrase.

However, the boys got the idea. Instead of praise, the
two received scorns.

“Nice going, Dougie,” Maclyn and Dario awarded him
with criticism.

Even Chad got pounced on from his own camp, Grant
Evert replying, “Thanks for pissing off Yves, Chad!”

“Fuck you, Grant!”

Stepping into their shorts, peeling their tee shirts
down over their sun-guilded bods, Yves and Nick teamed
up, heading back to the cabins. Of course, they didn’t
proceed without further direction for their boys.

“Back to the cabins, men. Pronto!”

With the unfriendly direction given by Nick, Marat
sarcastically replied, outloud, “Nice going, Dougie!”

In a quieter response, standing between Dougie and
Chad, Marat told them. “Don’t worry about it, guys.
The guys aren’t mad at you. I mean, how can they keep
us from sucking a guy or a guy fuckin’ another guy?”

“Damn right,” Dougie replied.

Chad, smiling, let on, “Yeah, how they going to keep
me from getting my first hot fuck tonight?”

”Not a problem for me, but you’re in a different
cabin, Chad.”

”Problem? Nah. I’ll just wait til it’s dark and sneak
out. When Dougie’s finished shooting his load up my
ass, I’ll sneak back in. What’s the deal?”

”You better be careful, Chad.”

”No sweat. I’ve already prepared for, if a problem
such as this arose.”

”Oh?” How?” Dougie inquired.

“The screen on the jon window loosens by only two
screws. Underneath the window, outside is a garbage
can. How simpler could they have made it?”

Concerned, Marat tells him, “Still, you better be
careful Chad.”

”What’s all this, Marat? It’s like you like me or
something!”

Taking the opposite side of Chad’s face in his hand,
Marat quickly jumped up, gave him a smooch and then
hightailed it ahead of the pair, back to the cabin.

“Jealous?”

”Who me?” Dougie replied. “Nah. I’m willing to share.”

Bubbling over with happiness, Chad confides, “I’m
really glad I met you two guys today.”

”Yeah?”

”I’m glad you both like me because if it became a
choice, I don’t think I’d be able to split my vote of
to one of ya’s.”

Dougie grins, saying, “Then again, you haven’t felt my
cock up your ass! See ya later!”

Arriving at the Coyote cabin first, Dougie speeds on,
to his own abode.

%

“You smell like a fuckin’ pisspig!” 

Reporting to the yard, Bud, Frank and Josh stood,
taking grief from Dav.

“I’m talking to you, mister,” Dav screamed in Josh’s
face, no more than an inch from his nose.”

”Sorry, sir.” 

Josh’s attention had wandered to the exercise of
throwing medicine balls back and forth across the
yard.

“Oh you will be, soldier. Over there... belly up to
the whipping post.”

When Bud heard that, he got all tingly inside. He
wondered what kind of reaction beset Josh.

“Whipping?”

Dav didn’t wait for anymore questioning. Turning Josh
on the frame of his body, he held one arm behind the
nineteen year olds back, forcing it upwards and pushed
him along, his feet carrying him over to tall tree
trunk that shot up out of the ground.

“Hot,” Bud secretly mentioned to Frank.

“Doesn’t look so hot to me.”

”Just wait. You don’t think Josh is looking forward to
this, as much as I am?”

”You... you want to see him in pain?”

”Oh, do I!” Bud gleefully announced to his compatriot.

“That’s sick!”

“It’s hot!” Bud reiterated his feelings.

“Gather ‘round,” Dav yelled out, checking off boxes on
a pink slip, writing in numbers. Tossing a set of keys
to Reinken, Dav dictated, “Here, go get the faggot
chained to the bed. I want him to witness this!”

Not much caring for the attitude, nor talking down to
him, Reinken pledged Dav’s ‘day’ would dawn. He
followed through, however, his crotch provided the
fuel for his excitement about what was unfolding here
at the whipping post.

As a precaution, keeping his prisoner from causing
anymore physical outbursts, Reinken brought Jake out,
wrists cuffed behind his back. He had lifted the boy’s
shirt up, letting it slacken around the eighteen year
old’s shoulders, though it still remained opened,
revealing the light covering of pec fur and the
defined trail, slicing his six pack in half, to his
rather shallow navel.

“Up front,” Reinken made it a point, pushing Jake’s
shoulder. 

Under his breath was heard some type of cursing,
muffled.

“You keep adding up those demerits,” Dav remarked,
filling out Jake’s pink slip.

Not that it mattered, since Dav Khan and Reinken
Michaelis had been given virtually free rein over the
Turtle Lodge. Sequestered out from the other
groupings, not even earshot from the other cabins,
made it easier for many things, including open
disciplining, at any hour of the day and night. Unlike
the other cabin complexes, the perimeter of Turtle
Lodge was circled by layers of barbed wire. Dav and
Reinken only guessed at how bad these young men could
be. 

“First, we have our piss boy. I have yet to check out
the latrines, but I had at least expected a boy to
show up for activity, with the utmost high standards
of hygiene. For smelling like a stinking pig who’s
wallowed in the stockyard shit, I fine him ten
demerits.”

What they would learn is that each demerit constituted
one lash of the leather strap, wherever the counselor
deemed fit, on the human body. Dav already eyed up his
favorite places, the back and ass.

“Furthermore, his account of not coming forward and
admitting the pissing incident, adds another ten
demerits. Plus, insuboordination, another five,” he
read off the pink slip, “and another five for not
approaching the whipping post on his own free will.”

As a lesson to all, he added, “I expect that when a
man committs an infraction that he stands up to his
punishment like a man.” Then he added the grand total,
branding the punishment into all of the boys’ skulls,
“Joshua Spindel, I sentence you to thirty lashes with
the leather strap.”

Even surprising Bud, whose crotch reflected his
excitement, creating a hidden buldge, his hand in
pocket, pressing the ten inch monster, so that it
conformed to the space in his briefs, gasped at the
amount to be administered.

“Holy cow! Thirty lashes!”

“Not so exciting now, is it? I wonder how many we’re
gonna get?”

“Us?”

It then occurred to Bud, the correctness of Frank’s
statement. Sure, he could take, get excited, grow
hard, feel his balls churn, watching another guy
suffer, but cringed at the thought of himself up
there, arms stretched high above his head, legs kicked
apart, accepting torturous pain. He gulped, his hand
immediately feeling a looseness in his crotch.

“To not show partiality, I shall deliver fifteen
lashes and your other superior, the remaining
fifteen.”

Sweating profusely, the other teens did, from heaving
the medicine balls back and forth, around the yard.
For Josh, he not only wreeked from the piss staining
his bod, but the nervous streaks of sweat that coursed
down his nude body. No further announcement was given,
other than the crack of the leather strap across
Josh’s shoulder blades.

“Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!” Josh cried out.

Arching his back became tough to do, being that his
arms remained stretched high above his head. With his
legs kicked outwards, anchored by cinderblocks on
either side, he could barely stand on tipeetoes.

“I’m waiting boy?” Then to give the hint of what he
waited for, plus educate the others, Dav asked, “How
many was that?”

”One,” Josh scarcely chided.

“One, what?”

Bud was finding out more and more about Josh, as time
passed. Another detail readied to be added to his
criteria on the nineteen year old college jock.

Only a versed player would know to answer, “One, thank
you, sir!”

With the consecutive strikes of the leather implement
of torture against Josh’s back and ass, a pattern
formed.

First came the cry out of pain, “Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,”
followed by the humbled reply, “Two, thank you, sir.”

Two things worried Bud, at this point. One, the pain,
resulted from the leather strap digging into his back
and two, humbling himself for the no good, fucking
bastard! 

%

“I wonder what they’re conjuring up?” 


“Can you hear what they’re saying, Ron?” Dougie
inquired of the eighteen year old jock, trying to look
unseen, as he stared out of the screened in window of
Buffalo Lodge.

“Nada,” he reported back.

“That means nothing,” Miguel innocently piped up with,
as if to educate them on the Hispanic lingo.

“We ‘know’ what it means,” Ron shot back with.

Gil told Ron, “Don’t be so rough on Miguel. He means
well,” he smiled at the new addition to the Buffalo
boys.

Miguel blushed, cracking a timid grin.

“Just don’t get any ideas,” Dario told Gil, kissing
him on the forhead, as he held his topless body in the
pocket of his arm, in bed.

However, Gil shot back with the compliment, “There’s
enough of you for two guys, Dario!”

Smiling, Dario then called Gil’s bluff, directing to
Miguel, “C’mon over here and cuddle up with us.”

Miguel politely refused.

“Suit yourself,” Dario replied, adding another sweet
peck to Gil’s face. 

At the same time, Dario’s hand rubbed from the dark
brown, circular patch of hair, midchest, down the thin
path, then back up again.

“Feels good babe,” Gil replied to the massaging hand,
concluded with his own bout of kisses.

“Uh-oh, here he comes!” Ron replied, watching the two
counselors break free, Nick reporting to the Buffalo’s
cabin.

“What can he fuckin’ do?” Dougie confronted the others
with.

“Hey, Nick doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but
nice to us,” Maclyn stated.

“Yeah, you’re taking him for granted!” Ron went along
with the Irish jock.

It’s at this point, when time ran short, as Nick made
his way from outdoors, to the cabin door, the Buffalo
camp became split in their opinion. Aware of the ‘sex’
rule, there had been those that wanted to adhere to
the rule and those meant to defy.

“Um, maybe I should get up?”

”What are you afraid of Marat? Like we said earlier,
it’s an invasion of our gay rights to...”

However, that’s not the way Nick looked at it. With
his pink pad in hand, his pen began writing, ‘stat’!
Not a word was spoken. 

Peeking over Nick’s hairy forearm, which made Ron lick
his lips, before observing, he stated, “Ooooh, you’re
in big trouble, Dougie!”

“Oh yeah? I know I owe him a couple of demerits, but
anything else Nick’s writing me up for, he better
forget it!”

“Heey!” 

“What?” Dougie asked, cool as a cucumber, holding
Marat in his arm.

“There really is a place on this pink slip for doing
sex stuff!”

“Where?” Dougie finally became embroiled by the
audacity.

Jumping up from the springed bed, he rushed over to
where Nick was writing like there was no tomorrow.

His anger getting the best of him, Dougie swatted the
pad from Nick’s hand, complaining, “That’s fuckin’
wrong!”

Trying to hold his cool in check, Nick asked sternly,
“Pick up the pad, Dougie.”

Ron, trying to be helpful, bent down to retrieve it.
Nick went off on him.

“Did I mention your name?”

”Um... no sir.”

Ron dropped the pink pad.

“I’m waiting, Douglass!”

Tossing the towel in, Marat sided, “Nick doesn’t
deserve this, Dougie.”

“Yeah and I don’t deserve not fucking a guy’s ass if I
feel compelled to do it!”

Nick very nonchalantly reached for the handle on the
screen door. 

Leaving, he dictated, “Fine. Until Dougie delivers
that pad into my hands, personally, you are all
grounded. No meals, no recreation. You’ll remain
incarcerated in this hot cabin until that time
arrives.”

One of the tough parts is, some of the fellas stomachs
began to growl.

“Nice going, Douglass,” Maclyn busted on the nineteen
year old, using Nick’s term of endearment.

Gil, whom had sprung from the cot just before Nick’s
arrival, peeled his tee shirt off over his head,
saying, “It’s supposed to hit ninety-eight today. I
guess I might as well get comfortable for the
broiler!”

True, the inner sanctum of the cabin began to warmup,
but not as much as with Dougie’s feelings.

“Yeah sure. Make me look like the bad guy, but don’t
come crying to me when you have the urge to jerk your
meat off!”

“That’s not what the ‘no sex’ thing means,” Ron
stated.

“Oh yeah?” Dougie started in on the principle, “I
disagree. Prove I’m wrong.”

”Huh?” Ron questioned Dougie’s motives.

“I dare you to waltz into Nick’s cabin, with your cock
all primed and unload your balls onto the floor. Watch
the demerits add up!”

“Ron’s right, Dougie. Nick can’t mean that we can’t
jerk ourselves off. He only meant that we can’t have
sex with each other.”

”Like I said,” Dougie kept by his guns, “prove it to
me and then I’ll believe it.”

Maclyn then turned to his bud, more sexual partner,
asking, “That ‘is’ what Nick meant, isn’t it?”

”I think,” Ron shrugged his shoulders.

Taking up residence on his bed, Dougie, also stripping
down to his waist, placed his hands behind his head
for the long wait for Nick to give in.

Meanwhile, at the Coyote bunker, they already fessed
up to their sins. Walking into the cabin, Yves began
writing up demerits. Chad was giving Zek al-Zubeidi a
hot blowjob, alternately licking around the mideastern
teen’s wiry, black pubes, then breaking, to go down
again on his fully alert 9.5c.

Yves did some stroking of his own, tallying up the
demerits as each second passed that Chad stayed ‘on
top of things’.  

A little pissed about the rule too, he decided to make
it worth Yves’ while, stopping the sucking action long
enough to ask, “Up to twenty, yet?”

”Your call,” Yves put the tally in Chad’s court.

Chad went back to his succulent snack.

Koo Chen-fu, in his native language, called out
something profound. They could tell by the elaborate
manner in which he spoke.

“What’d he say?” Bob Moch turned to Eduardo Hoy, to
ask.

“Do I look Chinese?” Eduardo replied.

Looking side to side at Eduardo’s face, he replied, “I
think I can see the resemblances.”

Overriding the antics of the two, Roi persuades Koo,
“What does it mean?”

”Confucious say, ‘Sex produces a kind of pleasure that
human nature cannot do without.’”

“Yeah, but what does it mean?” Roi further prods.

“Beats me!”

In the face of Chad’s tallies growing in number, the
cabin erupted in laughter.

Not far away, meekly, Jason says, “At least somebody’s
having fun!”

Pressing up on his elbows, jutting his pecs upwards,
his abs sinking down, Dougie asks, “What the hell do
you want me to do?”

Dario lays it on the line, “Nick’s going to let us rot
in here til he gets his precious pink pad back.”

”That means he’s gonna whip my ass!” Dougie says,
using the pronounced punishment figureatively.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” 

Maclyn, who’s holding his balled up tee shirt, throws
it at Dougie, hitting him in the abs.

“No!” 

Retrieving it, he hauls the sweat-stained tee shirt
back.

“It’s about sex.”

”I’m not so sure about that, Dougie.”

”Hell, I took twenty lashes from that bastard Mieremet
and fifteen this morning before mess. Do you think I’m
scared of getting another fifty across my blades?
Huh?”

Silence fills the cabin after the heated discussion.

Marat comes up with, “Look, we’ve got another seven
weeks and six days of camp left. We can’t sit here and
rot for that long-a time. I know I stand to lose here,
too. Sure, I’ll probably wind up eating my own jizz,
to hide that I had to jerk off, but it’s better than
nothing.”

”What about your punishment?” Dougie brings up.

“I heard the directive as loud and clear as all of
you, at Indian Lake this morning. I chose to break the
rule. So, I’ll take it like a man, whatever Nick has
written up for me.”

Going over by the door, Marat picks up Nick’s personal
pink pad. He skims back a page.

“Shit! Twenty-five demerits?”

“Lemme see that,” Dougie says, jumping up from the
bed.

More interested in what follows, he gasps, “Thirty?”

Maclyn tells him, “What do you want, Dougie? Nick’s a
nice guy, but you rubbed him the wrong way.”

After deep thought, Dougie, looking at the number
‘30’, asks, “I just hope there’s sombody willing to
swallow ‘my jizz’!”

The Buffalo teens commended Dougie on his decision,
telling him no fear about his sheets, nor briefs ever
being cum-stained. 

“Well, I guess I’ll go take Nick his pad back.”

Marat, in front of the other boys, shows no
embarrassment, claiming, “I’ll stand by you, Dougie.
Hell, if you want me to, I’ll take your punishment for
you.”

“Nah. Thanks. I appreciate the thought, babe, but I
can take what’s coming to me.”

“Let us know how it comes out,” Dario told Dougie.

“Shit! I’m not going over to fuck the man!”

They all cracked up at Dougie’s joke. 

“Don’t forget this!”

“Yeah, make yourself presentable,” Dario pressed, at
the tee shirt Marat tossed his way.

It took a lot to put it on. The temperature of the
inside of the cabin already reached into the high
seventies, adding the tense moments that ensued.

On his way to NIck’s cabin, Dougie saw something shiny
in the dirt. Picking the object from the soil, with
index finger and thumb, he blew the loose fragments
away. He thought, ‘Nick’s pen!’ He further went on to
conjure up, ‘I’ll show them,’ pertaining to afraid to
take punishment. Clicking the top of the pen, he added
a ‘1’ to the ‘2’ demerits already instated for his
altercation early in the morning. Working some drawing
magic, he transformed the ‘3’ in ‘30’, to a ‘5’. He
then stood there, staring up into the green leaves,
sun glittering between. His mind then took his eyes
over to the trunk of wood sticking up out of the
ground, hook at the top. “Ugh!” Dougie commented out
loud to himself. “Oh well. Might as well and get it
over with!”

%

“Ugh...th-h-han....” the last amount of vocalising
came from Josh’s lips, as Reinken lay the last, the
thirtieth lash across the eighteen year old’s upper
back.

Brashly, Dav, replied to the finished torment,
“Punishment is served!” Sweating at the pits, a wet
spot soiling him midchest, his light green fatigues,
now darker, he also ordered up, “You two, Hans and
Zhao, unbind him... take him to his bunk.”

Taking on the hideous duty, Hans, standing at six
foot, one inch, reached up and unhooked the sagging
wrists from over the hook at the topmost reaches of
the whipping post. Zhao helped catch Josh’s slumping
body. With an arm over each of their necks, they tried
to keep Josh’s booted feet from dragging.

“One moment,” Dav interceded.

Reaching around Josh’s wrists, loosening each cuff. He
held the two in his hand. 

Stepping out of their way, he let Zhao and Hans pass,
tossing both cuffs to Frank Kelly.

“Put them on!” the order came.

“But, I didn’t do anything!”

“Each moment you delay, the demerits increase.”

Frank didn’t like it one bit, but he could see this
turning into a ‘no win’ situation. With one pair of
the leather cuffs tucked under his arm, he fastened
the other around his wrist. After the second, he
walked up to the whipping post.

“The shirt!” Dav shouted out.

Slowly, the eighteen year old, five foot, ten inch
tall, dark blond, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it from
his pants and opened it wide across his chest, bearing
the light pec fuzz. He then stripped it, hanging it
over the railing near the whipping post. Without
further ado, he faced his future, walking up to the
stump, extending both arms up, tall, above himself.

“Now that’s what I call a man!” 

It surprised the hell out of all of them, the
compliment delivered from what they perceived as a
hard-hearted bastard.

However, Frank had to go and slip, sink back into his
old self.

“What’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t catch that,” Dav pursued.

“I asked,” Frank now shouted out bravely, “what’s your
excuse?”

Some gasps rang out among the Turtle Lodge fraternity.

“I’m going to let that slide,” Dav spoke out loud, as
he scribbled on the pink demerit pad.

Frank, totally annoyed at the whole act of punishment,
plus the fact that he really didn’t do anything to
warrant the results, plus at his damn family for
agreeing to ever send him to this Godforsaken place,
bellowed out, “Don’t do me any favors!”

“As you wish,” Dav redid the tally for the third time,
announcing, “The punishment stands, ten demerits for
the pissing incident...”

Frank got a last dib in, “For which I’m totally
innocent.”

“Hmm,” Dav murmured, jotting something further,
continued, “Ten demerits for insuboordination, plus 
ten more and ten more and...” trying to make sense of
his scribble he tallies, “ten more demerits, for a
full sixty demerits.”

“That’s insane!” Mik Gunnardo calls out, as if
accusing Dav Khan of the infraction of issuing the
overbearing punishment.

Shaking his head, Dav turns the page and begins to
write, mentioning, “Some day you boys will take it
upon yourself to mind your own business. Ten demerits
for your outburst, Mik.”

Alf, the meek and more mild mannered, the more
intelligent-minded, comes out with, “Technically,
Mik’s correct. Frank did nothing to warrant issuance
of his punishment.”

“Technically speaking, Alf, you’re speaking out of
turn.”

Dav flipped the page, starting on a new entry.

Reaching up, Dav, no guilt or shame shown, fastened
Frank’s cuffs to the hook. Kicking the eighteen year
olds legs apart, either side of the cinderblocks, he
forced the five foot, ten inch teen to barely stand on
the toe of his boots.

Before starting, he suggested to Reinken, “Here, come
up here. We’ll never get finished with these bastards.
We’ll alternate the punishment.”

It wasn’t only Reinken’s and Dav’s crotches twitching
with each stroke of the leather strap against Frank’s
back, but Bud’s crotch began ticking off the Richter
Scale with quakes.

In worse shape than Josh, they lay him faced down,
over a picnic table, until they could finish up
today’s punishment tallies. After they dragged Frank’s
red, lacerated carcass from the whipping post, Mik
bravely took up residence, placing the leather cuffs
over his wrists. The announcement of ten demerits
didn’t phase the nineteen year old. Even Alf, as they
alternated the leather straps, took the ten demerits;
ten lashes modestly, walking away, as Mik had done,
taking his place beside the others, to witness the
last two offenders. 

By this time, Dav had worked up such a sweat, he had
to strip off his shirt. Mik and Alf, both true
bottoms, lusted after the dark brown, hairy chest,
it’s luscious follicles running from right to left,
over deep ruby nips. It didn’t end their. With their
balls in a churning mode, they licked their lips at
the thick trail, embedded in the stomach hair,
covering what looked to be a deep tummy recess. They
could only dream of what lay below Dav’s the beltline
of the handsome, Pakistani counselor. A light breeze
jostled their minds back to reality, as it kicked up
the stinging of their fresh wounds across their
shoulder blades.

Begging clemency, Jake almost broke down, as the cuffs
had to be fastened to his wrists. Uncuffed from behind
his back, the metals ones removed, the leather cuffs
circled each wrist. 

“Nooooooo!” He cried out, as they lifted his arms to
the hook at the top of the whipping post.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Reinken brought up.

Looking at Jake, Dav offered, “Hell with it!”

Maybe as a token of fortune, Jake endured thirty
demerits, thirty lashes, throught the fabric of his
Timber Creek shirt. Nearing the last ten, the garment
torn open, revealing blunt lines across his back. All
in all, he could be ‘walked away’ from his ordeal,
unlike Frank.

Seeing his number was up, Bud walked up to Dav,
stealing the leather cuffs away from him. 

“Give me those.”

With hurried intent, Bud fit the binding around his
wrists. The eighteen year old, coming up a little
short on reaching, jumped, to catch the loops of the
leather cuffs on the hook. Pressing his chest and
stomach against the rough bark, he kicked his feet
backwards to straddle the cement blocks. 

“Might valiant effort!” Dav heralded the topguy’s
ambition. Turning to Reinken, he more or less
dictated, “Why don’t you and the boys head over to the
infirmary. Take Frank there and don’t forget Josh?”

“Yeah, okay,” Reinken agreed.

Maybe a mean SOB, in his own right, he didn’t deem
himself as callous as Dav Khan. With pleasure, not in
the bdsm sense, he took the boys and cleared out,
hefting Frank over his shoulder, as Zhao and Hans
managed the only severly injured, Josh. The others
managed to trek on their own, towards the Timber Creek
infirmary.

%

07 Continued……….

© 2006  T. Chase McPhee 
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.

“The more you stretch, the more you can fit in...
'spread' happiness!”
  T. Chase McPhee... circa 2005









The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP

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