Scrimshaw & Zelamir

Tribute Boys

A Fantasy in Just One of Our Possible Futures

Book Two

The Boy Hunting Party

Chapter 8
Good bye to Vass

Maurice speaks

I had tried asking Karl but could get nothing out of him except a gloomy shake of the head and an "it was bad Maurice, very bad" which was hardly informative.

The brats were no better. Jonathan when I asked him about the numerous bruises and welts on his body looked at the floor rubbed a bare foot along one calf and became completely tongue tied. Guy showed some signs of being more communicative but suddenly became equally incoherent when Jonathan dropped a glass on the floor just as the younger boy was beginning to try to answer my questions. Not that either boy refused openly to reply to my queries. If they had done that they would have been in very serious trouble. Rather they mumbled, became incoherent, answered a question other than the one I had asked and generally indulged in one or other of the dozens of different tactics that brats seem to learn by instinct to avoid answering questions they wish to evade. I suppose I could have beaten an answer out of them if I had wished but I thought I would probably find out what I wanted to know in time if I just waited and listened without going to the bother of doing that.

Meanwhile though it was all very puzzling. Jonathan's body when I ran my hand over it was as hard and as fine tuned as could be. He didn't have much spare weight on him when he set off for the Picos. Hacienda boys are adequately but not generously fed but now he was not carrying a spare gramme on him. Then there were the mysterious dressings on the brats' left hands. Every brat who had been on the hunt arrived back at the Hacienda with a clean white dressing neatly attached to their centre of their left palms. Well they had clearly been clean when they had set out on their return journey that morning otherwise they would have been a great deal grubbier now. The dressings were quite unlike the rough, but I must admit generally effective, bandages which Karl slapped on any open wound that he thought required it. I had looked under Jonathan's dressing and found that it covered a painful burn but the child seemed incapable of explaining the circumstances that gave rise to it. On top of this was the demeanour of the brats. They usually came back from their outings to the Picos excited and full of beans bursting to tell you about the rich huntsmen who'd fucked them and the ferals they had seen and so on. This time all the brats were very subdued and all seemed to suffer from Jonathan's inability to communicate.

I saw a good number of the guests had decided to put in an appearance. They lounged in the chairs provided in the covered arcades on either side of the open area in which the boys tables were ranged. Perhaps like me they had go wind of some mystery and wished to hear what Don Carlos would say.

The boys all ate in silence as the brat whose turn it was to read stood to one side of the top table reading out loud from one of Swinbyrne's lesser known works. I listened to his clear young voice hardly hearing the familiar words

"Oh tell me did the mind divine
The boy for the rod
Or the rod for the boy
First design."

I realised that he had come to the end of his reading and at the same time a stir of movement among the boys told me that Don Carlos had entered the compound through the gateway behind where I was sitting on the high table.

"Thank you Timmy," Don Carlos said he took care to know the name of every brat on the Hacienda, "that was well read."

Timmy blushed with pleasure at the praise and kneeling asked permission to return to his place. Don Carlos waived his hand and the boy pressed his face to the floor. I heard a murmur of appreciation at the beauty of the boy so clearly displayed to their view run from the guests. As the slut scuttled back to his place on one of the boys' tables. Monsieur Durcet gave a slight almost imperceptible upward movement with the index finger of his left hand indicating his intention to fuck the brat. The boy quickly ducked his head acknowledging he had seen the gesture and submitting himself man's demand.

Don Carlos, as is usual on these occasions, was accompanied by his secretary holding the rather dog eared exercise book in which the latter recorded the faults of the boys reported to him or noticed by himself during the course of the previous day. I sometimes thought that considering the painful consequences flowing from the inclusion of a brat's name on it's pages it would have been more appropriate if it had been more substantial and dignified in form; a leather covered ledger perhaps rather than a scruffy note book. But really the thing was simply a management tool and we were only dealing with brats and their disciplining. It was no secret that the secretary, having chosen, not Release but emasculation, deeply resented the brats flagrant sexuality and took a spiteful pleasure in being instrumental in their public floggings.

Christopher was also with his father. This was not in itself unusual. Don Carlos eager to instruct the boy in the management of the Hacienda had often in the past brought him to witness the brat's evening assembly. What was new was that on this occasion Christopher and not his father was carrying the cane. It was clear that Don Carlos was intent in involving his son in more and more aspects of the management of the Hacienda and it's stock.

Indeed it seemed the boy was ready for it. He seemed to have gained in self confidence during his brief visit to the mountains. There was an air of authority and gravity about him now that he had previously lacked. He appeared to have matured greatly in those few short days.

Don Carlos nodded to me and walked to the front of the low platform on which the high table was placed. He stood there for a moment allowing the tension to mount as a couple of hundred adoring but apprehensive young faces gazed up at him. One or two of the boys already knew that their names were written in the book and that very shortly they would be called out and required to present their taught young bums to the cane. Not a single boy there could be sure that he had not been observed transgressing in one way or another during the curse of the day and his name noted without him being told. Every brat knew that if his name was written there no appeal was possible. As Don Carlos remarked to me once when I had plucked up courage to suggest he had flogged a brat for something he had not done, "If he didn't do what I have just beaten him for I have no doubt he has done something much worse that I don't know about," although I noticed that having said that he very shortly afterwards found occasion to tip the slut a couple of obols.

"Any brats for correction?" He eventually asked.

"Only four, Sir," the secretary replied the regret in being able to offer so meagre a harvest of boy's bottoms to his Master. I suppose one should feel pleasure in finding someone so dedicated and happy in his work. I am afraid I found the fellow simply unpleasant.

"Very well call them up one by one."

"The first offence is a double one, Sir. Reported by Mr and Mrs Davies. While having a picnic on the beach two brats ran so close by them that they scattered sand on their sandwiches. Paul 3.2 and Peter 3.1, Sir."

The Secretary in naming the brats in this way followed the practice of identifying individual boys by their year of Tribute and seniority in that year a system made necessary on such occasions as evening assemblies when large number of boys were present by the great number of Paulo's, Michael's, Pierre's, Angelo's, Ahmed's and all among the Hacienda stock. For instance from their names you could tell in this instance that both boys were in their third year of Tribute and that Paul was the second boy of that name to be recruited in his year and Peter the first.

"Paul and Peter, step forward."

Two dark little curly haired boys stood up. Somewhat reluctantly they made they mounted the raised dais and stood facing Don Carlos. They were twins and were generally lively little lads distinguished by their ready smiles. They were looking now though far from happy.

"Well Paul, Peter, what's all this about?" Don Carlos enquired sternly.

"Please Master, Paul was chasing me and I just didn't see Mr and Mrs Davies and we ran too close to them. We're very sorry, Master."

"And why, Peter, were you chasing your brother?"

"Please Master, he said you enjoyed fucking him more than me and I didn't believe him. It's not true, is it Master?"

"You were both excellent fucks," Don Carlos assured the boy seriously. "But you must both learn that you are here to serve your betters not to run riot. To ensure you do remember that in future you will get three strokes each. Paul you first. Christopher."

Paul obediently adopted the required position, legs slightly apart bent forward gripping his ankles. Christopher stepped forward. He wielded the cane with skill and confidence. I noticed how he ensured that the tip of the cane to curled about the boy's rump and nipped at his flanks and how the last cut of the three was laid across the crease of the boy's bum where it would hurt the most and the soreness would linger the longest.

First Paul and then Peter gasped out their "Thank you Master for my flogging," and made their ways back to their places among the other boys. I noticed that although their faces were both wet with tears as they returned both their little cocks were erect.

The next boy was another third year slut reported by the secretary himself for pushing in the queue for at the brat's shop that midday. He too was sent sobbing back to his place with three livid wheals across his smooth young bottom.

"The last offence, Sir, is reported by Sir John Chalmers. He had to call Hans 5.1 twice before he came to him."

"Well Hans?" Don Carlos said to the blonde young lad who stood uneasily before him.

"Please Master I am very sorry," the brat muttered gazing at the ground and shifting uneasily. "I was playing in the surf with the other boys at the edge of the sea and didn't hear Sir John call me."

"That's simply not good enough." Don Carlos said. "I bought you, and trained you so that you should give pleasure to my guests. There's no point my keeping you, Hans, if you do not do that."

At this implicit and most awful of threats the boy began to cry harder.

"And Hans," Don Carlos said speaking very quietly and very seriously, "look up at me."

Reluctantly the boy raised his head and looked into his Master's eyes.

"Did you really not hear Sir Chalmers the first time or did you decide that you were having such fun in the surf with your friends that he could just wait."

The boy said nothing but his redoubled crying was a confession in itself. My employer amazed me yet again by his ability to see into the minds of his young charges.

"I thought so," Don Carlos said grimly. "Nine strokes I think. That's not as much as you deserve you wicked ungrateful brat but it should be sufficient to persuade you to give priority to serving me in future and not your own worthless pleasures."

If three strokes and nine strokes do not seem very considerable punishments to any reader I can only say I think you would feel very differently if you had experienced as young boy the cane across your bare bottom laid on with all his strength by a sturdy well grown fourteen year old. The sturdy confident figure of Christopher standing the cane ready in his hand and bent before him the slight naked body of the slut, slighter even than any free boy of his age because of the more restricted diet and harder life endured by even comparatively privileged stock on the Hacienda, seemed an allegory and justification for the whole Tribute system. Who contrasting the strength and authority of the free boy with the cringing humility of the brat could doubt that one was destined to rule and the other to serve.

Christopher plied the cane like a veteran. He did not waste time but yet he saw that he made every stroke tell. Hans like every Tribute Boy made no effort to disguise his sufferings under correction. His howls punctuated by the sharp hiss of the cane as it descended and the crack as wood cut across tightly drawn bare flesh rang out in the evening stillness. Then it was over. Christopher stood flushed and breathless from his efforts. The brat still whimpering was back in his place.

"I have," Don Carlos said, "one announcement to make. The Tribute Boy Vass was released while serving on the Picos."

I noticed as did every other person the form of words he used. 'Was released' not 'was granted his Release.' It was an indication that something irregular had happened that the brat was killed or died without the formalities of the Tribute system being observed.

"You brats will all know him and many of our guests will do so as well. I will miss him for not only was he a beautiful slut with fair haired and golden skinned but he was also a skilful and energetic little whore. He was as any of our guests who enjoyed him will vouch an excellent fuck."

"He was all that I could ask for in a Tribute Boy. He accepted his fate and strove to serve his betters with uncomplaining devotion. His end was a painful one but even when he was being torn by the horses penis he did not rebel. Not for him the clenched fist or the hurled stone of wicked ungrateful rebellion, a rebellion that is anyway doomed to failure and that will bring only ruin and death to the brat and it's parents and disgrace to the Tribute master that has nurtured it. No he died as he lived like the faithful devoted Tribute Boy that was."

"I have written to his father informing him of his sons death and have had a reply which I will read to you now."

"Honoured and Noble Sir,

I write to thank you for the most generous settlement that you have made me and my wife. I am grateful that my son had the opportunity of serving so munificent a Master and that both in his life and his death he has given you pleasure. Every letter he wrote to us during his time with you honoured Sir declared, what I know to be true, his deep love for you and his good fortune in being allowed to serve in the Hacienda de los Niños Tributos del Ezzaro with the opportunity to give pleasure to the many rich and noble ladies and gentlemen that you entertain there.

His death must as you describe it have been painful but all brats are doomed to die and I am sure that the knowledge he was suffering it in your service gave him consolation even in his death agonies.

I have Sir another son approaching Tribute age I think quite as beautiful as the one that has been fortunate enough to be allowed to die in your service. I very humbly offer this boy to you in his place."

Don Carlos paused impressively and then turning nodded once more to me and followed by his son and his secretary walked out of the compound.