Mister Henry & Zelamir

The Village

Book One

Daniel

Chapter 1

Nine year old Daniel and his Mother were visiting the village, he for the first time, to meet his uncle. They had arrived half an hour earlier by train, and had walked down the main street of the picturesque little village from the station. They had an hour or so to kill before Uncle Jack would arrive to collect them, and drive them to his house outside the village.

As a sudden burst of rain came down, they turned a corner on the main street, and spotted a pleasant looking cafe.

"Let's go in and have a nice warm cup of tea," said Daniel's Mum.

"Or a Burger and chips," grinned her son, hungry after the journey. He was well wrapped up for the weather, in his school uniform of grey jumper over his shirt, and neat corduroy school shorts, knee socks and black shoes, with a warm scarf wrapped around his neck, and a grey cap with a red stripe.

He was the picture of a happy prep school boy.

Once inside the cafe, they got a table at the window, and ordered tea and toast for Mum, and burger, chips and coke for Daniel. As they waited, looking out at the passing parade, Daniel suddenly exclaimed: "Look Mum, there's a boy coming along in his bare feet, and he's only wearing a pair of shorts, much much shorter than mine."

Sure enough, when his mother looked out, she saw the boy approaching. He wore only the briefest pair of thin white shorts, which covered his private parts, but left his long brown legs bare from the top of his thighs down. He looked to be about ten or eleven, and was well tanned, and even though he was quite thin, he looked the picture of health. He was carrying a very large bundle of newspapers on his shoulder, and looked to be struggling to carry the heavy weight. Behind him walked a stout balding man, wearing a thick polo neck sweater. As the boy stumbled as he walked, the man drew back a hefty looking strap he had looped around his wrist, and lashed it across the bare back of the struggling child, who jerked, and immediately righted himself from his stumble.

The man raised the strap again, and brought it down with all his strength on the back of the boy's thighs. From inside the window, Daniel could not hear any sound, but he could see from the shape of the almost naked boy's mouth that he was crying.

"Oh that will be just a Charity Boy," said his mother. "This is one of the villages where they have boys like that. You'll probably see a lot more of them before we leave tomorrow."

"What are Charity Boys?" asked Daniel.

"They are boys whose parents have decided should be brought up to a very strict set of rules, and who spend their boyhood working for the good of their parents and of their community. They are taught from an early age to be completely obedient, and to accept that they have no rights at all, and must do exactly what they are told to do by their parents and by all grown ups and privileged children."

"Why has he only got a pair of shorts in this weather?"

"He may be lucky to even have those. Charity Boys are not entitled to anything at all, and many parents prefer to keep their children naked all the time. You will probably see quite a few bare arsed boys around when we go the Uncle Jack's. Charity Boys do not show any gratitude when their parents are kind enough to let them have even a pair of shorts, and therefore most of them don't deserve them. If I had a Charity Boy, I would be very slow indeed to let him wear anything."

"Will he not be freezing Mum?" asked the curious Daniel.

"He may well be, but he's got to put up with it. These brats are toughened up anyway from the time they are very young. Anyway it doesn't matter if he is, because Charity Boys are supposed to suffer."

The boy and the man had now stopped outside the window of the cafe. Briefly, the boy looked in at the big plate of chips and the burger that Daniel was devouring. His big blue eyes were filled with tears from the pain of the strap, and his long blonde hair blew wildly in the strong wind.

There was a paper stand outside the cafe, one of the metal cabinet types, which was cemented into the concrete path. The boy lowered his heavy load of papers onto the stand, and quickly untied the strings which had held them together.

"That will be his Father with him," said Daniel's Mum.

Just then the waitress came over. She overheard the remark. "Yes, that's his Dad. He brings him down every day to set him up for the evening, so that he's there to sell papers to all the commuters coming off the trains."

"How long does he stay," asked Daniel.

"Oh, until about nine o'clock," said the waitress, "Unless there's a later train. He stays until all the trains are in. On Saturday nights he's there until midnight."

The astonished Daniel couldn't take his eyes off the boy. As he watched, the boys father put his hand inside the metal paper pulled out a short but quite thick chain which was attached to the cabinet. He wrapped the chain around the upper thigh of the boy, and snapped it closed with a padlock. The chain only allowed the boy about two feet of freedom from the cabinet, and dug into his flesh just below his crutch.

"That's to make sure he doesn't get lazy when his father isn't looking, and sits down on the job," said Daniel's Mum, "Charity Boys are notoriously lazy, and have to be kept on their toes all the time or they get slack."

"The chain must be sore on his leg," said Daniel.

"Of course it is, that's the idea. It keeps him standing up, and reminds him what he'll get if he doesn't sell his papers," chimed in the waitress.

As they watched, the boys father got hold of the brief shorts, and pulled them right up into the boys crack. He pulled them up at the front, his penis and balls were exposed. He then turned the boy around and bent him over the metal cabinet. When he bent over, Daniel could see that the bare part of his backside was covered in the clear marks which only a severe caning leaves. His thighs and calves were also well striped. His father then began to beat the boy ferociously with the strap. The boy jerked and jumped, but, restrained as he was by the chain, his area of movement was limited.

"His Dad beats him like that every day before he leaves him to get on with his paper selling. It does him the world of good. Really it's amazing how thoughtful his father is," said the waitress. "Then, when he comes back to collect him, he often gives him another beating, sometimes with a cane. He really takes a lot of trouble to make sure his brat learns to behave."

"He is a fine father all right," said Daniel's Mum.

"What's that on the back of his knee?" asked the now thoroughly excited Daniel, pointing.

Sure enough, on the back of the paper boy's knee, there was clearly visible a tattoo of a hugely rampant penis. As the boy jerked around under the strap, the penis moved up and down and changed as he bent and unbent his leg.

"That's a special sign," said the waitress, looking at Daniel's mother, and wondering whether she should say any more.

"Oh yes," said his Mum, "I know about that. We might as well tell Daniel, because he may well see what it means in action when we go to Uncle Jack's house. I think Uncle Jack has a couple of boys working on his land for him who have that mark. Daniel, it means that a boy with that tattoo has been made available by his parents to give pleasure to any adult in any way that the adult may want. It means that he is like a bitch in heat, or a she-cat, who can be fucked by any tom cat who feels the urge, so that boy can be fucked by any man who wants to fuck him, as often as he wants." "Oh," gasped Daniel. He had only recently learned the facts of life, and was still surprised by the novelty of the new things he learned every day.

"Would I be allowed to fuck him Mummy?" he asked in his eager small boy voice.

"I don't think you would be able just yet son," she said kindly, "but if Uncle Jack says you can try, well we'll see if you can practice on one of his boys."

Finished the beating, the brat's father grabbed him by the long blonde hair, and stood him up straight. He once more pulled the shorts up as high as possible, making sure they were well buried into his crack at the rear, and that his prick and balls remained exposed at the front. He then hit the boy across the face with his open hand, gave his hair a final pull, and walked off. It was just three thirty, and the boy would be there for about five hours.

"He looks a bit hungry, Mum," said Daniel, "I'm not going to finish these chips, can I give them to him?"

"No you certainly can not," snapped his Mother. "Charity boys don't need a lot of feeding. If they get too much food they get lazy. They have to be kept hungry to make sure they work."

"That's right," said the waitress, who had come back to the table with fresh tea for Daniel's Mum. "He has told me that he is only allowed to eat once a day, when he has finished all his work. He has a bowl of scraps when he gets home and a mug of milk. If he was to eat anything else, or at any other time, he would deservedly get flogged to within an inch of his life. His mother collects a bucket of slops from us here at the restaurant, and this does him for the week. In return for this he spends Sunday afternoons from 2 until 7 cleaning the cafe toilets and kitchens. His Mother doles out as much from the bucket as she thinks he deserves. Sometimes the bucket lasts two weeks. He gets no food at all on a Sunday, to ensure that he appreciates what he gets for the rest of the week."

Outside the rain was now lashing down. The boy desperately tried to keep his papers dry with the plastic sheet he had for the purpose, but with the squally wind this was difficult. No one would buy wet papers, and, if he didn't sell all the papers he knew he would be letting his father down, and would deserve to be severely whipped. He really regretted what a bad child he was, and was continually grateful for the fact that he had parents who took so much time and trouble to beat him every day to make sure he might some day be good. He knew that, even thought the strappings and the canings were agonising, that they were totally for his own good, and he was only sorry that he caused so much trouble to his devoted parents. He was so lucky also to be allowed to wear his shorts sometimes. He knew he shouldn't be wearing them now in the rain, but, with the chain he could not get them off without tearing them, and his mother had told him they were the only clothes he would be allowed for at least two years. Many of his co-charity boys were kept naked all the time, and never wore anything even to Sunday School.

"Can I go out and look at him, it's stopped raining now," said Daniel.

"Just for a minute son, but come straight back in if it is too cold for you."

Picking up the remaining half of his big hamburger, Daniel wrapped his scarf around him, and pulled up his socks which had slipped down to his ankles. He went outside, and went up close to the nearly naked boy.

"Nice burgers these," he said, "Pity you can't have any."

He stuffed the rest of the burger into his mouth, and chewed it in front of the starving paper brat. Then he ran his fingers along the livid weal's on the back and front of the boys thighs.

"I bet those hurt," he said.

The boy winced as Daniel stuck his nails into a particularly raw stripe.

"Why does your dad have to beat you so much?"

"Because I am lazy and don't work as hard as I should," stammered the boy, not sure whether he should reply to a boy of such obvious superiority. "I need to be thrashed to make sure I remember my position, and to keep working."

Just then a car drew up, the door opened, and out got Uncle Jack. Simultaneously Daniel's Mum came out of the restaurant.

"Hello there you two," said jolly Uncle Jack. "Come on get in, it's just about to lash again."

He gave Daniel a hug, and his Mum a peck on the cheek.

"Welcome to our village. What are you doing Daniel, talking to this shit-boy. Give me a paper brat." The boy handed Uncle Jack a paper, and took the money, putting it into the container.

Uncle Jack reached out and took the boys exposed balls in his hand, and twisted them. The boy yelped. Uncle Jack squeezed harder, bringing screams from the brat.

"Don't you dare talk to privileged boys, or I'll have your mouth sewn up you miserable little scum bag," he snarled. With a final sharp pull on the boys balls, bringing an even shriller scream from the agonised child, Uncle Jack got into the car and drove off with Daniel and his Mum, leaving the weeping boy trying desperately to call out and sell his papers. He knew nothing of time, but he did know that he had a long wait before his Dad would be back to release him, and to give him whatever punishment he deserved for the night.

Daniel settled down in the back seat of the car behind the two adults. It was pleasant sitting in the shelter and warmth of Uncle Jacks big motor looking out at the cold wet village street. The car passed two more charity boys one naked the other wearing just threadbare shorts both their bodies bearing clear signs of recent whippings. They were crouched in the gutter by two bicycles.

"What are those boys doing," Daniel asked as the car swept by them splashing their bare bodies with muddy water from the street.

"Oh probably cleaning the bikes for their owners. They are very fortunate brats to be given the opportunity to serve their betters in that way. Now they'll have to start all over again after we splashed them with mud going past," said Uncle Jack laughing heartily.

A short way out of the village Uncle Jack turned off the surfaced road onto a gravel drive. A closed gate barred the way. Peering between the two grownup's heads Daniel could see through the rain splashed windscreen of the car a naked boy pushing the gate open.

As they drew level with the child Uncle Jack wound his wind screen down.

"You'll have to do better than that you miserable lump of dog's turd," he shouted at the boy, back handing him hard across a rump that already bore the mark of many strokes of the cane. "I had to stop the car because of your laziness you useless little tyke."

He hit the boy again and drove on. As they drove past Daniel got a closer view of the boy.

"I say Uncle," he piped, "that boy's wrists are fastened to the top bar of the gate."

"Of course they are," his Uncle replied cheerfully. "We can't have him wandering off or going to sleep when he's meant to be minding the gates."

"Do you know," he continued speaking to Daniel's mother, "I pay the father of that boy 5p a day for his services and all he has to do for that money is to open and close the gates for me from 6.30 in the morning to 11 at night and he still can't do the job right. If it's not raining too hard I think I'll walk down after supper and thrash the child. It's the only thing these boys understand."

The car swung round a curve in the drive and Uncle Jack's house came in view. It was a substantial farmhouse three stories high, neat and prosperous in every respect. There was a large sweep of gravel and two boys clad only in tiny threadbare shorts were on their knees picking weeds with their fingers, the rain glistening on their bare skin. Uncle Jack stopped the car outside the front door.

"Come here quick you two brats," he shouted roughly jumping from the car. "Take the cases from the boot into the house and quick about it if you don't want me to warm your miserable bums with the strap."

"Now come into the house you two out of the cold and wet," Uncle Jack continued in much softer tones to Daniel and his Mum.

Uncle Jack lead them across the hall to the sitting room. It was a large room with French windows out onto the lawn. What struck Daniel though were the two boys who scrambled hastily to their feet as they entered the room. One was about Daniel's own age the other perhaps thirteen. They were lean and deeply tanned. Their only clothing were shirts which flapped loosely about their bare bums and were cut off at the front level with their belly buttons. The younger boy had a blue ribbon tied round his hairless balls the older one a red one.

Uncle Jack waived his hand and the two boys sat down their knees so wide apart that they almost rested on the floor. Daniel saw that the boys were sitting on a mirror resting on the carpet which reflected their little balls and their open bums. He saw that both boys were spotlessly clean. Before he could ask any questions his Uncle spoke.

"I suppose Daniel would like his supper now?" he asked.

"Yes please," Daniel's Mum replied. "Something simple and then he can watch the television while we have our dinner."

"Perhaps Macaroni Cheese? I know Mrs Powell my house keeper has prepared some and it is really excellent."

He rang the bell and a small cheerful middle aged lady came into the room.

"Please Uncle Jack," Daniel said, "Can I eat it in here and watch the cartoons on the television?"

"Of course you can. A plate of your macaroni cheese in here for my young nephew if you please."

A few minutes later Mrs Powell reappeared carrying a tray containing a plate heaped with macaroni and a steaming vegetable dish.

"I've brought you the whole lot in case you want seconds," she said kindly to Daniel who had settled down in a chair in front of the TV while his Mother and Uncle chatted quietly at the other end of the room. "I know how hungry young boys get. But be careful both plates are very hot."

"Oh thank you Mrs Powell," Daniel replied. He was a very polite young boy. "But what shall I do for a table?"

"That's no problem," Mrs Powell said placing the tray on the side board and snapping her fingers at the thirteen year old boy. The lad got quickly to his feet and came over to where Daniel was sitting. Daniel though he was not looking very cheerful. Mrs Powell pointed to the floor and the boy knelt down in front of where Daniel was sitting.

"We mustn't spoil his shirt," Mrs Powell said lifting it forward over his head so that his whole body was bare.

"Boy's flesh heals but cloth does not," she remarked cheerfully and using a dish cloth to protect her hands from the hot dishes placed them on the boy's naked back.

The boy squealed as the hot china seared his flesh.

"Be quiet you ungrateful brat," Mrs Powell snapped. "You should be pleased to have an opportunity of serving your betters. I'll see you get something to really cry about later on you dirty little monkey."

Daniel sat happily eating his enjoyment of his food and the cartoons not at all diminished by the whimpering of his boy table.

Daniel scraped his plate clean and feeling pleasantly replete leant back in his chair to watch the television. He was so absorbed in the adventures of the Pink Panther that he did not hear the house keeper return to the room.

"Did you enjoy that Master Daniel?" she asked lifting the empty plate and casserole dish from where they rested on the bare back of the kneeling charity boy.

"Yes, thank you. It was very good," Daniel replied politely his eyes fixed on the two angry red marks left by the hot dishes on the boy table's skin.

"Very good is more than you can say about this ungrateful brat," the housekeeper said angrily kicking the kneeling lad viciously in his bare bottom. "You come along with me now pig's turd and I'll beat some respect into you."

"What's the matter Mrs Thomas?" enquired Uncle Jack from the other side of the room interrupting his conversation with Daniel's mother.

"This filthy lump of dog's shit here wouldn't stay still when I put Master Daniel's dinner plates on his back because they were hot and hurt," the housekeeper said her voice shrill with outrage.

"What," Uncle Daniel roared, turning crimson with rage and loosing for the moment his jovial appearance, "you dirty little tyke out of the goodness of my heart I take you into my house and I allow you to wait upon my guests and myself and you aren't prepared to suffer a burnt back so that my nephew can eat his food quietly in front of the television. I've got a good mind to send you back to your Mummy and Daddy and tell them you're unfit to serve your betters. It would be sound whipping for you then and off to the corrective camp for a spell, which is what you thoroughly deserve."

The kneeling boy began to cry loudly.

"However," Uncle Jack said, "beginning to recover some of his good humour and calming down a bit, "I'm a kind hearted man so I'll deal with this matter myself."

"Oh Sir please Sir thank you Sir," the boy sobbed gratefully.

"Take your shirt off and get hold of your ankles boy," Uncle Jack commanded picking up a heavy cane from the mantle peace over the fire. "And," he continued bending down and pushing the poker deep into the heart of the fire, "after I've given your bum a well deserved bloodying I'll show you how much something really hot hurts. It seems you've forgotten your initial branding so you need reminding."

"You don't mind Anne do you," he said turning to his sister, Daniel's mother, "my thrashing this lout in front of you."

"No, indeed I don't Jack," she replied. "I'm amazed though that you allow such ill behaved ill disciplined little animals in your house. It seems standards have slipped since I left this village. We would never have tolerated such impertinence in my time. I trust you'll flay that little whore till there's not a square inch of skin left on his bum."

"Now Daniel," she ordered, "watch Uncle Jack now and you will see how seriously he takes his responsibilities as a guardian of these boys and how much he cares for their well being. They have to be disciplined or they get lazy and forget their places and the only thing they take notice of is the cane well laid on."

There was no need for this advice to her son. Daniel was staring fascinated at the boy as he bent forward in front of Uncle Jack, the child's slim frail body contrasting with the man's burly frame. Daniel could see from the welts that ran across otherwise smooth flesh of the boy's bottom that this was not the first taste of the cane that the boy had had that day.

Daniel glanced across at his mother. She was staring at the trembling lad her eyes glittering eagerly, three small white teeth showing as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Uncle Daniel rested the cane across the boy's exposed bottom and then paused for a moment as he adjusted something in the crutch of his trousers. There was a big bulge there that Daniel could not remember seeing before. The younger of the two charity boys was he saw staring wide eyed at his fellow a look of fascinated horror in his eyes. The cane, Daniel noticed, was a good metre and a half long and while thick at it's base tapered so that it was hardly thicker than his little finger at it's tip. It seemed the boy's bum quivered beneath it's, for the moment, light touch.

Then Uncle Daniel lifted the cane high over his head. With a grunt of effort he brought it hissing through the air to crack explosively down on the boy's unprotected flesh. The boy screamed and staggered forward a step or two. Daniel noticed how the end of the cane curled round the side of the boy's rump and drew a small bead of red blood at it's tip.

Uncle Daniel waited until the boy was still and then struck again and again and again. The hiss of the cane through the air, the sharp explosive report as it cut into the boy's bare rump, the shrill screams of the tortured boy and the heavy panting of Uncle Jack as he remorselessly flogged the child filled the room. Twice the boy lost his balance and collapsed on the floor. Twice Uncle Jack got him back to his feet with sharp kicks with his heavy brogues. At last Uncle Jack stopped.

"Stay down," he said grimly to the boy. "I have not finished with you yet."

He drew the poker from the fire. Daniel could see it's tip glowing red with heat.

"Daniel," Uncle Jack said pleasantly, "these miserable little animals are ours to do what we like with but generally we try to avoid marking them in a way which will spoil their appearance and thus the pleasure we can derive from them. There are however parts of a boy's body where he can be marked with out it noticing much. You will need to learn these in time. One I will show you now. It is the crease at the base of a boy's bottom. There," he said laying the glowing poker across the boy's bottom just at the point where it joined with his left thigh. The boy screamed and would have straightened had not the housekeeper grabbed him by his bare shoulders.

"And there," Uncle Jack continued repeating the treatment on the opposite side of the boy.

"Now Daniel what did you think of that?" he asked smiling benevolently at his nephew.

"Can I fuck one of the boy's please Uncle Jack? Daniel asked seriously. He had been excited by the sight of the boy's flogging. "Mum said perhaps I could."

"Certainly you can any way try," Uncle Jack sounded delighted. "Now your mother and I are going to have our dinners. You go up stairs and have a bath and get into bed and after we've eaten I'll bring a boy up to you and show you how to do it."

"Oh thanks Uncle Jack," Daniel said excitedly starting to the door.

"Oh and good night Mum," he said remembering his manners and coming back and kissing his mother.

"Now my guests are leaving the room," Uncle Jack said sharply to the two charity boys, "there's no reason why your two miserable little bums should enjoy the luxury of sitting on nice cool glass. Get the chore mat."

The younger of the two boys darted into a corner of the room and brought out a square of fibre matting with a multitude of stiff bristles sticking upwards. The older boy who had been whimpering quietly began to sob uncontrollably.

"Get down on that brat," Uncle Jack ordered seizing the boy by his shoulders and kicking his feet from under him so the he fell with a crash on to the mat.

Daniel could hear the boy's screams as the bristles stabbed into the child's raw burnt bum as he made his way upstairs to bed.

Daniel was heading upstairs to have his bath and to get ready for the new experience promised to him by Uncle Jack. He hadn't really believed it originally when his Mum had said that Uncle Jack might let him practice on one of his boys. He new a little of what to do, because boys in school had talked about fucking, but he had never seen it done, and was anxious about doing it properly. He was glad the Uncle Jack had said he would show him how.

He hoped also that Uncle Jack would let him beat one of the boys. He had liked the feeling he got in his prick when he watched Uncle Jack caning the boy who had been his table. He had really enjoyed the way he had got stiff. When the red hot poker had been applied to his bum, and the boy had screamed even louder, it had seemed to make him even stiffer. It was a feeling he wanted more of. He hoped fervently that the boys would be flogged again before he had to leave, and he determined to keep a sharp eye on them to ensure that they did not get away with any misdemeanour that they would deserve correction for. Even thinking about this made him stiff again, his nine year old little prick stretching uncomfortably against the material of his grey school shorts. (Like all the boys at his school, he did not, and had never been allowed, wear underpants. It was considered soft to do so.)

Reaching his room, he was just about to pull off his shirt when he heard Uncle Jack calling him. Quickly, he turned around, and hurried off down stairs again, wondering what was wrong. Uncle Jack was still in the sitting room with his Mum. The younger of the two charity brats, the one about his own age, with the superbly dark tan had now taken off his shirt and was completely naked. Daniel could see all the lines across the front of his thighs where he had been beaten many times. The marks added to his undoubted beauty however, as did the brand on his lower hip. Daniel did not know it was a brand, and thought to himself that it was a tattoo.

Uncle Jack was just about to say something when there was a loud swish, followed by the sound of a leather landing on bare flesh. It was quickly followed by another and another, and the howling reached a high pitch of agonised screaming.

"Don't mind the noise" said Uncle Jack, "it's only Mrs Thomas giving that miserable lazy lump of shit the beating she promised him because he was whinging at the heat of the plates with your meal on him."

Uncle Jack grinned as an even louder howl came from the outer room.

"Just because I beat him and punished him with the hot poker doesn't mean that he gets off Mrs Thomas' beating. I can assure you that she has never let any brat off a flogging she promised to give him."

Daniel felt his little cock harden again. He seemed to be in a state of constant erection. He felt really content. He noticed that Uncle Jack had a huge bulge in the front of his trousers. I bet he wears underpants thought Daniel's, laughing inwardly to himself.

"'Can I go out there and watch the boy being punished please Uncle Jack, he's such a complaining cry baby that I'd love to see him being really hurt with the strap. "

"Not this time Daniel," smiled his Uncle, "leave him to Mrs Thomas. She'll beat him until his can't stand, and the burns on his worthless little arse will make it so much more painful for him. Then we'll put him out in the yard for the night tied to a tree by his wrists. That will teach him to behave. If he has recovered sufficiently in the morning he'll be put to work in the fields collecting stones to build a wall. But don't worry Daniel, you will get to see some other disciplining in action. Your Mum has suggested that I should take you with me when I go down to the gate to punish the gate boy for his laziness. Turning to the other brat he ordered - you, get the cart, and bring it to the front door, quickly, if you don't want your backside skinned."

"He's a nice looking brat," said Daniel's Mother. "He looks so well naked. I said to Daniel on the way down today that if I had a charity boy, I would keep him naked all the time, no matter what the weather, or the conditions. It only spoils a lot of them being allowed to wear shorts. Daniel's father, before he went away used to insist that Daniel went nude at home during the Summer, and he used to enjoy it. After a while he got used to being in the nude after school nearly every day. His Dad said it was the natural was for boys to be and he regretted that Daniel had to wear conventional clothes to school and out of the house. Though you will see that his shorts are as brief as possible, and again his Dad always said it was important that he should try to have the shortest shorts in the school. There were a few other parents with the same idea ,so we had quite a bit of fun and work with the scissors and sewing machine hadn't we Daniel."

.Daniel grinned sheepishly and agreed. He had always enjoyed wearing really short shorts, and was proud of how well his brown legs looked, bare to the start of his buttocks. He just wished he could be as brown as the charity boy who had gone to get the cart, whatever that was. He also thought how much he missed his Dad, who had gone away to work in the Far East, and would not be back for four years.

"Get a move on you two," said his Mum. "Don't forget Daniel you've still to come back and have your bath so that Uncle Jack can show you how to fuck one of those disgusting little brutes."

Uncle Jack took him by the hand, and led him to the door. It was still quite bright, and while the rain had stopped, there was that cold breeze blowing. There was no doubt that there would be more rain later. The two boys who had been weeding in the front of the house when Daniel had arrived were still down on their knees. They did not look up when the Master and his nephew came out, but seemed to speed up their work.

"If you don't fill those barrel's with weeds tonight you'll get no food, and Mrs Thomas will give you both a good thrashing you lazy ungrateful little turds," he roared at the two kids. "You've had since six o'clock this morning to do it."

Terrified, the two exhausted brats scrabbled away trying to prise up the stubborn weeds with fingers that were sore and bleeding. The hard stony ground cut into their bare knees, but, hardened by months of work like this, they hardly noticed the pain.

"Must be sore on their knees" said Daniel.

"Doesn't matter Daniel," said Uncle Jack. 'If they are sore it's good for them. But they learn from experience that it makes no difference how sore they are, they still have a duty to me and to their parents who care so much for them to keep working until they drop. Even when they drop, the cane can sometimes get another hour or two out of them. These brats start at six in the morning and work until ten or eleven every night. I pay their parents one pound a week for their labour, so I expect a full day out of them or else.'

Just then the boy who had been sent for the cart came trotting around the corner. He was pulling a small rickshaw like vehicle, which had two large wheels, and a cover over the seat, which would just about hold two people. It was just like the rickshaw's that Daniel had seen in pictures of the Far East that his Dad had shown him before he left. The boy pulled the cart over to where they stood, and looked anxiously down at the ground, as all charity boys must. Uncle Jack went to the rear of the cart and unhooked a bag that was there.

"You'll enjoy this Daniel. Sometimes we have great fun with the carts, racing them around the fields. "

The boy shuddered, remembering some of the times he had been whipped to run ever faster pulling the cart behind him over the uneven gound. The slightest stumble brought the whip crashing across his bare back in a searing pain.

Now however he knew this was just a domestic chore, though no doubt he would be made to perform for his masters nephew, who was so superior to him. "Over here," ordered Uncle Jack, and cuffed the boy across the ear.

From the bag he took a bridle and metal bit. The boy obediently opened his mouth, and Uncle Jack forced the cold metal in as far as it would go, so that the corners of the brat's mouth were forced right back. He fastened the strap behind his neck, and pulled it as tight as he could, so that the bit now cut into the corners of the child's mouth. When he was satisfied that it was as tight as possible, he pushed the boy forward.

"Open up," he ordered.

The boy reached behind him, and pulled the cheeks of his bum as far apart as he could. Uncle Jack then took a large expanding plug out of the bag. It was metal, and shaped like a slightly curved carrot. Without any lubrication, Uncle Jack slowly shoved it into the boy. He screamed as much as the bit would allow.

"Great things these," smiled Uncle Jack. "Really makes these animals know they have something inside them. "

When the plug was fully up inside the crying child, Uncle Jack twisted a ring on the end that was sticking out.

"That expands the plug inside" he explained to the awestruck Daniel, "Now it hurts even more, and it can't slip out, even when the animal is running full out."

He then attached a light leather lead to the ring in the plug and put the brat back between the shafts. The balance of the cart was such that, even with two adults sitting in it, it did not tilt backwards. The boys hands were then attached to the shafts with leather strapping to prevent them slipping, and, finally a leather strap in front of him was tightened, so that his chest or stomach could take the strain of pulling the cart.

"Up you get Daniel," and the two of them got into the seat.

It was a bit tight, as Uncle Jack was a big man, standing over six feet, and weighing a good fourteen stone.

He picked up a small whip that was in the cart, and with a loud shout of 'Giddy up', he cracked it across the young brown back in front of him. The boy pulled , slowly getting the cart to move, working up to a good walking pace as another stroke of the whip crashed on his shoulders.

Uncle Jack kept whipping him until he had got sufficient impetus to travel at a good running pace. All the time he kept the reins fairly tight, so that there was no respite for the brats mouth. Then holding the reins in one hand, he showed Daniel how he could order the cart left or right by pulling sharply on the lead attached to the plug in the boy.'

"We'll go the long way so that you can enjoy the ride Daniel," said Uncle Jack.

"Thank you so much Uncle Jack," said Daniel, "This is really fantastic. I don't know when I have had so much fun."

Then Uncle Jack handed Daniel the whip.

"You use this to make him go faster. Try to hit him on the shoulders, back and bum. If you hit him on the balls it sometimes causes a brat to buck a bit."

Daniel was in heaven. He lifted the whip and brought it down as hard as he could on the boy's back. There was immediate reaction and the boy speeded up.

"Well done" said Uncle Jack, "now keep whipping him and see how fast he can go."

Daniel needed no second invitation and was soon flogging the racing brat for all he was worth. Eventually, after one extra savage cut, a trickle of blood rolled down the by now completely striped back in front of them.

"Well done again'" shouted Uncle Jack. "See if you can do that again. "

It took another three blows of the whip to break the skin again, as it was a fairly light whip, and, after all, Daniel was only nine.

At last the gates appeared in view. The boy whose job it was to open them was still tied to them, and when he saw them coming quickly moved to open the gates in the hope of avoiding another beating. However Uncle Jack stopped tthe cart by pulling hard on the reins and then jerking savagely on the plug-ring.

The pony boy slowed and stopped, gasping for breath,. The sweat poured off him despite the cold breeze. Blood trickled down his bare back and into the cleft of his arse.

Uncle Jack hopped down from his seat and untied the panting boy from the shafts of the cart. There was blood at both the corners of his mouth where the vicious bit dug in. A thick stream of mucous dribbled from his noose mixing with saliva running from his mouth before dripping on to his heaving chest. He was exhausted. Uncle Jack led him by the reins over to the pillar beside the gate. There he hooked the reins over the gate and pulled on the lead in the plug-ring until he had to stand right up on his toes.

He turned to the wretched naked gateboy, who, unlike the pony boy, was freezing from having been tied to the gate since dawn.'

"We've come to give you the flogging I promised you,, you lazy good for nothing lump of pig shit. I'm going to cut that lazy arse of yours to bits and I hope your father does the same when he come to collect you tonight - if he does."

Tears came to the boys eyes. He knew he deserved to be flogged and he knew as well that when his daddy discovered how badly he had behaved he would be so furious at his ingratitude to the master and himself that he would indeed give him a second beating. That is if he came. Some nights of course he was too busy and quite rightly felt he did not have to take the trouble to come and untie his worthless boy so he would be left tied up overnight and be there to start work the next day. This meant as well that he got no food those nights, but he knew as well that that was only the treatment he deserved.

"Please Sir, thank you Sir," he wept, "I am sorry for being such a lazy lump of shit, Thank you for taking the trouble to thrash me. I will try to improve but I know that you will be kind enough to keep beating me until I finish as a charity boy. Please do not spare me, Please flog me until you are satisfied that I have been given a proper lesson."

Daniel felt hard again as he saw his uncle take a long cruel whippy cane out of the cart.

As Uncle Jack approached the sobbing gate boy a man and woman appeared strolling along the public road.

"Hello Jack," the man called, "lovely evening."

"Yes George. Out for a stroll?"

"Oh look," the woman interrupted, "they've used our Nicky as their pony boy."

"Why so they have. I hope you drove that little brat of ours really hard Jack. He's an obstinate lazy bit of shit although God knows his Mother and I have tried to flog some sense in to him."

"It's my nephew here who used the whip," Uncle Jack said with a touch of pride in his voice, "I think you could say he got as much out of the little tyke as he had to give but check the brat over if you want to."

The man glanced across at Daniel. He thought the boy with his tight shorts that revealed the full length of his firm tanned thighs looked as though he had the makings of a good charity boy. His skin was not quite as brown nor was the boy as thin as a charity boy but he could imagine him stripped and branded. He wondered if the boy had been circumcised.

He was presumably Jack's brother's boy and he remembered scandalous stories about him before, he had been sent away from the village by his parents, of excessive sympathy to charity boys. Attempts to persuade the trustees to forbid the excessive beating of charity boys, when every one knew that the more such boys were flogged the better. A suggestion that a barn with clean straw should be provided in which the boy's could sleep on snowy days when, again, it was common knowledge that it was the harshness of their living conditions that gave the boys the health and endurance to serve their betters. It was even rumoured that he had suggested that parents should be obliged to ensure that their brats got at least one meal a day despite the great inconvenience this might cause and the fact that all agreed that boys should be kept hungry. Subversive ideas that if propagated would undermine the whole social fabric of the village. The next thing might even have been a proposal that charity boys should no longer be branded or publicly circumcised. No wonder his parents had shipped him out of the place.

He wondered if his son was similarly inclined. If he was, the sooner he was inducted as a charity boy the better. He was a pretty little lad. It would be quite enjoyable taking a hand in training him. He kept these thoughts to himself. It was obvious the boy's Uncle thought the world of him, for the moment at least.

The pony boy forced to stand on the tip of his toes by the taught plug reign stood with his head bowed as his mother and father walked over to him.

"Well Nicky," the man spoke roughly, "I hope you are grateful to your master for choosing to use you as his pony boy."

"Yes Daddy," the boy said speaking with difficulty for he was still panting from his exertions drawing the cart. "I am very grateful to my Master for choosing to use me and to the young master for whipping me so hard and getting all the effort out of me that I had to give him. And I hope on the way back he'll whip me even harder so that I am forced to run faster than ever before and I am grateful to you and Mummy for giving me to the master so that I can serve him. I am a very lucky charity boy to have a Master and a Mummy and Daddy who discipline and work me so hard."

"Yes you are a lucky little brat and don't you forget it," his father snapped. "Now let's have a look at your idle little carcass."

Hooking his walking stick over the crook of his arm the man moved behind his son. The boy whimpered as his father ran his hands down his naked back.

"Did you do these young man," he asked Daniel jovially as he pressed his fingers into the still bleeding cuts left by the whip in the pony boy's brown skin.

"Yes Sir," Danny replied grinning proudly.

"You've got a real expert with the whip there Jack," the man remarked cheerfully and Uncle Jack smiled and looked pleased.

The man walked round the pony boy so that he could examine the child's front. He noticed how the lash had curled about the boys shoulders to raise deep purple weals the tightly stretched skin of his ribcage. He put his hand under the boy's chin and tipped his head back. He nodded approval as he saw the blood trickling down the boy's chin from where the steel bit had torn his mouth, mixing with the mucus dribbling from his nostrils. He pushed a finger into the boy's mouth and pulled back his lips to see how sore they were. He smiled as his son's whimpers turned into a shrill scream of pain.

Then he frowned and stepped back.

"You ungrateful brat," he shouted hitting the boy as hard as he could across his chest with his walking stick. "You lazy lump of dog's shit." He hit him again. "I'll teach you proper respect for your betters you filthy little runt."

He hit the boy again and again with his heavy stick with all the force he was capable of exercising. The boy held rigidly in place by the taught plug lead wailed loudly.

"What ever has the ghastly little brat done wrong?" the woman asked.

"There was resentment in his eyes when I looked into them," the man said continuing to belabour his son with his walking stick.

"What?" the woman screamed in outrage, "After all we and his Master here has done for him. It just shows how the only to get through to these animals understand is to thrash them. For heaven's sake hit the ungrateful little brute harder Dear."

Rightly enraged by her sons intolerable behaviour the woman started to kick him on the shins with her heavy leather walking shoes.

The boy knocked off balance staggered and screamed even more shrilly than before as the taught reign pulled on the plug clamped in his backside.

What made it worse for him was he knew he deserved this beating. He had been very wicked. He had for a moment allowed himself to question why he was a pony boy and why the young master should have the right to whip him. These were evil thoughts and he knew he must be grateful to his Mummy and Daddy for taking the trouble to flog them out of him.

Eventually the man stopped out of breath.

"Well Jack," he panted, "I leave it to you to give the little runt the further flogging he undoubtedly deserves when you get him back to the stables."

"And you young man be sure you use the whip well on the way back to the farm. He needs it."

With a friendly wave man and woman continued on their walk.

Uncle Jack turned away from the sobbing pony boy and lifting the long whippy cane prepared to chastise the cowering gate boy.

NEXT PART