Part 2
Five minutes later as I came down the stairs Chris was already standing with Anthony in the hall. Anthony was still in his chinos and jacket. Chris and I were dressed almost identically, except that our T-shirts were different colours, and, I noticed with satisfaction, his jeans were only the kind that pass for Levis in South Africa ... shapeless cut, and back pockets in the wrong places. Mine were the real thing, US 501s my father had brought back for me; although they felt a bit rough without anything else under them, I knew they fitted me beautifully and they were incredibly comfortable. However, it didn't look as if that comfort was going to last for much longer. Anthony was holding a cane about three feet long, half an inch thick, with joints in it every two inches or so: the handle end had a leather binding. He led the way out of the house and across to the out-buildings. It was stunningly quiet outside. He opened the door and switched on the lights. 'Shut the door behind you, Chris. We don't want to disturb the natives.' He led us across to another door, which led into a large windowless inner room; in the centre was a vaulting horse. 'This room is just about soundproof so you can make as much noise as you like' he said, shutting the door and sliding a bolt across. 'Remember, the loser is the one who actually asks me to stop after the lesser number of strokes; yelling or any other vocabulary doesn't count.' He brought out a coin, and told me to call. 'Heads' I said, but it was tails. 'Do you want to be first or second, Chris?' 'As it's not going to make much difference to the outcome against this chap, I'll go first.' As he said this I noticed that he had a large erection under his jeans.
Anthony took off his jacket, hung it up, and suddenly seemed much colder in manner. 'Get over that horse.' Chris walked over and hoisted himself over it so that he was almost bent almost double. He grasped the legs with his hands. His bum was at about the same level as Anthony's waist, at an angle of about forty five degrees to the ground. His feet were on the ground and his Levis were stretched tight across the target. I could tell he'd done this before. Anthony turned to me. 'You're to call out the number of each stroke after I give it ... one, two, three, etcetera, and he'll do the same for yours.' Then he moved easily to the left of Chris, and without any pause raised the cane to the level of his shoulders and then swiftly brought it down across Chris' bottom. I'd never seen anybody caned before, and I thought that the blow looked quite a soft one, but then I saw Chris' backside erupt in muscular movement, his legs came up behind him and he sang out 'Aaaaarh.' He was breathing heavily, and brought his right hand round behind him to try to rub his arse. 'Get that hand back, boy. No trying to cheat by rubbing away the sting.' 'One' I called out. As soon as Chris had grasped the legs of the horse again, Anthony gave him another whipping blow. Chris' reaction was almost the same again; I realised he was not finding it as easy as he had thought he would. 'Two.' As each stroke followed, I noticed dully that Anthony was gradually working down Chris' backside, so no two strokes fell on the same place. After the sixth, Anthony said to him 'Stand up, and move away.' Then to me 'You, get in position.' Chris walked around me; he had both of his hands on his bottom, rubbing it: he wasn't smiling any more.
I bent over the horse. I was a bit shorter than Chris: Anthony said: 'Get further over, boy. I want a good target.' I wriggled a bit further over the horse, and my feet left the ground. My bottom felt extremely exposed and vulnerable, knowing that there was only the thin denim between it and the cane. I could feel my _c_o_c_k_ pressed against the leather of the horse inside my jeans. 'Grab the legs of the horse, and hold on.' As soon as I had done that I heard a whistle and crack, and then my backside erupted with an incredible sting, much more than what Vries had done. 'I heard Chris say 'One' and then the whistle and crack again, and then felt the awful sting slightly lower down. 'Two.' I looked round towards Anthony: he was raising the cane as he had done for Chris. It whistled through the air again, I heard the crack, and as the pain pulsed through me I started to writhe on the top of the horse. 'Three.' This was terrible: I didn't think I could take six, let alone go through another sequence. The fourth one fell right at the top of my legs; I yelled out, but then something inside took control of me, and stopped my reflex reaction to try to get off the horse. 'Four.' Again the sound of the cane whistling, and another crack: the pain made me yell again. 'Five.' I just concentrated on holding the legs of the horse. I looked round again: Anthony looked as if a devil had taken hold of him; perhaps it was my yelling that had changed him, but it looked to me as if he was going to whip me to death. I watched as he raised the cane, and then brought it down with a look of intense concentration and effort. As this one hit me its sting made me almost fly off the horse. 'Six.' If this was six of the best then I could understand why it had its reputation in folklore. 'Stand up and move away' said Anthony. Standing up I could feel the stinging seemed to be still increasing: it was an extraordinary pain, which made me want to yell out just as I stood there. Like Chris, I tried to ease it by rubbing the back pockets of my jeans, but it didn't seem to do much good. My bum was getting hotter and hotter, and seemed to be radiating heat. 'Both of you stand over there. We'll start again in two minutes.' Anthony opened a cupboard and got out a whisky bottle and a glass, and poured one; he tossed it back. I could see that Chris still had an erection, and then to my amazement I could feel myself starting one. I had to re-arrange myself to accommodate it. Anthony was wiping his brow with his handkerchief.
He pointed at Chris with the cane. 'You, boy. Over the horse.' Chris looked rather pale; he was sweating, and now looked plain frightened. He hesitated, then walked over and got over the horse again. Anthony laid the cane lightly across his arse, and then very rapidly lifted it and brought it down in the centre of his backside: it went right over from one side to the other, and curled round towards the front of his legs. Now it was Chris' turn to yell. This again seemed to goad Anthony into a higher gear. As I was calling out 'Seven ... eight ... nine' what Anthony was doing to Chris looked just like a whipping; the cane was so flexible it simply ran round the contours of his buttocks, reaching every spot within range. By now Chris was making a lot of noise. I realised why Anthony had brought us both to this sound-proofed room. The strange thing was that neither Chris nor I were locked in here; we could leave at any moment, and escape this awful pain, but the pride in each of us wouldn't allow us to do that. 'Twelve,' I said. 'Get up, boy' ... then, the sound I was dreading, to me 'You, boy, over the horse.'
I got into the same position as before. My erection was fully established by now, and felt very firm on top of the horse. In that position I worried that it might actually burst out of the top of my jeans. Immediately I heard the cane, and felt the stinging start again. The next stroke landed right on top of where one of the previous ones had struck. I shrieked, but then took control of myself again. He was caning me at about ten second intervals, which seemed to give time for the pain to develop to a maximum just in time for the next stoke to be delivered. In order to get through it I tried deep breathing, but each time another stroke landed I caught my breath and had to start again. I realised, however, that I'd stopped yelling. The pain was still as bad, but it was becoming different in quality. Suddenly I heard Chris say 'Twelve' and I realised I'd done it.
Chris didn't look too good at all. As I massaged the sting in my bum, Anthony had another two minute break. 'Do either of you want to stop? I'm not a cruel man (I laughed inwardly at that) and it is supposed only to be a contest.' Neither of us said anything. I could see Chris biting his lip. He was still rubbing his backside. 'Right then, boy. Over you go again.' Looking at him over the horse, I could see the lines across his arse where the cane had previously landed. They covered a wide area. All through the next six Chris was alternately yelling and moaning. Looking at how he was reacting Anthony must have really laid it on. Once again Chris tried to reach round to protect his bum, but Anthony simply flicked his hand with the cane, and he withdrew it. Very shortly it was my turn again. I was filled with conflicting feelings: it was the first time anything like this had happened to me so I had had no idea what to expect. After twelve hard strokes of the cane my backside was painful to the touch, radiating heat and stinging continually, but also I had a towering erection at my front, and I felt _s_e_x_ually excited. That part of me was actually looking forward to some more cane hard across my backside.
I found my next dozen fairly easy to take compared with the first twelve. They were still very painful, but by the time we'd both got to twenty four I knew I could carry on further. Chris was in a bad way, however; I never found out whether he'd been caned by his uncle before, but he wasn't going to take much more. He was pale and sweaty, and had long since stopped smiling. Anthony, between wiping his brow with his silk handkerchief, was looking ten years younger and as fresh as a daisy. I was hurting like hell all over my backside, which was radiating heat inside my jeans, but I knew I was still in control of myself, even if not of my erection.
Anthony said: 'You two are doing extremely well. If you go on like this I may need to get some blacks in to deal with you, because there's a limit to how long I myself can go on thrashing you sufficiently hard. You' he said, pointing at Chris with the cane, 'over the horse again.' Chris was moving very slowly, and as he bent over it was as if he was just draping himself over the horse. 'Get over it properly, boy!' He shuffled a bit. Anthony walked up to him, and gave him quite a gentle cut. Chris suddenly cried out 'Aaaaargh. I can't take any more. Stop. Please stop.' Anthony stood back, and waited fifteen seconds. Chris was still over the horse, but he'd started crying. I felt so embarrassed that I didn't know what to do. Anthony called to him 'Are you asking me to stop, Chris?' Chris made no reply. 'Shall I carry on with your next sequence, then?' 'No, for God's sake, I've had enough.' Anthony said again to him 'Do you want me to stop?' Chris got off the horse, turned to me and spat in my face, went over to the door, unlocked it and walked out into the night, leaving the two of us on our own. Anthony seemed undisturbed.
'He's a spoilt mother's boy, who's always inventing stories about how brave he is.' I wiped the spittle off my face and said nothing. Anthony went on 'I'm sure you realise you haven't won yet. You've got to have at least another two strokes, though having watched you so far I can tell that won't be a problem for you. Get over the horse.' I did as I was told. Anthony stood looking at me over the horse. 'Has anybody ever told you you've got an extremely thrashable arse?' I wasn't sure what to say, so simply said 'No, sir.' 'You certainly won't understand this at the moment, but there are men, like me, who get an exquisite pleasure out of using a cane effectively on a boy's backside like yours.' I started to be alarmed at the direction the conversation was turning and made to get off the horse, but quickly he went on 'Relax, you're quite safe, nobody's going to ravish you ... though you may well get your arse tanned again.' At the time I couldn't understand him. All I was thinking about was winning the money. I said 'Are we going to finish the competition ...?'
He smiled at me. 'You can't wait for some more, eh boy?' That wasn't what I meant at all, but before I had time to say anything else I heard the cane whip through the air and then felt it land. He must have done something different, because this one made me scream with pain. 'Yes, lad' he said, 'There are many different levels to this game.' Immediately he brought the cane down on my bum again, and again it made me scream. There was a pause of about thirty seconds, while he seemed to be debating with himself about what to do next. 'Get up.' I was massaging my stinging backside. 'There are three things I want to say to you. One, you've done extremely well. Two, you've won the money. Congratulations to you on both counts. Three, I want you to come and talk to me in the morning about what you're going to do with the rest of your year in the Republic.'
As I walked out of the stables, and heard him locking up behind me, I could feel that the warmth in the seat of my jeans was turning into stiffness in my hips and legs. I wanted a drink, and a bath, in that order, and then bed.
I slept on my front, and had a wildly erotic dream in which I was having _s_e_x_ with my school friend's sister, but at the same time Anthony was caning me and the pain in my backside was entirely _s_e_x_ual, and felt wonderful, and was making my prick bigger and bigger. It was one of the best wet dreams I ever had. When it was over I fell into a deeper sleep than I had had since I arrived in South Africa.
I was woken at ten o'clock the next morning by one of the black servants. 'Mr Russell wonders whether you would like to join him for breakfast, sir?' I panicked slightly, because I wasn't accustomed to this kind of living. 'Have I got time for a shower?' The man gave me a wide grin, showing his white teeth. 'There's no hurry sir. You have your shower, and I'll have some fresh coffee ready when you come down.'
Anthony was sitting on the veranda. It was a brilliantly sunny day, with the promise of spring. He greeted me and then said: 'We're on our own. Chris has had to go back to Jo'burg for a while.' He simled at me, but I said nothing. 'Stefan was up long before you, and has gone out for a walk.' The servant poured coffee for me, and Anthony indicated fresh croissants and orange juice. After the man had gone he said to me 'Are you all right?' 'Yes, sir' I said. He pushed an envelope over to me. 'You didn't take your winnings.' I felt very cautious, because all of this was quite outside my experience. 'Are you sure, sir?' He threw back his head and roared with laughter; I felt stupid. He looked at me and said 'Do you mean you'd go through what you got last night without any reward at all?' I looked away, and then said 'It just seems an awful lot of money.' Anthony said to me 'Look at me, boy. I have more money than I know what to do with. The pleasures I enjoy can't be bought just with money, but I know that at your age cash can be very useful. Consider it a commercial transaction.' What he was saying seemed to repel me. I had that self-righteousness which is a part of that stage of adolescence. 'You mean you just see me as a kind of rent boy, whom you can flog, and then pay money to?' He put down his cigar. 'That was a nasty thing to say, Mark, and if I were you I would be very careful what you say while you're in the Republic and enjoying my hospitality. Remember that you volunteered to enter the competition: I put no serious pressure on you at all, and I've rewarded you handsomely for winning it. You're free to go any time you like.' I was already feeling ashamed of what I'd blurted out. Anthony seemed genuinely upset by it, and I knew I was in out of my depth.
He picked up his cigar again. 'Forget about last night. What do you want to do with yourself?' I hadn't the faintest idea what I was going to do, other than taking the money and getting on a plane back to England; something inside me told me that that would be a total cop-out, but it was the only plan I'd got. He was looking at me. 'I've already spoken to Stefan and he's thinking about staying on here. I can have James drive you over to Cape Town later on today, if that would suit you ... or ... and don't be alarmed at this, it would give me great pleasure if you decided you would like to stay on here a bit longer.' Immediately I knew that that was what I wanted to do: the long-range forecast inside my head also knew exactly how things were going to unfold if I did stay there, but I was torn between being sensible and much more basic instincts; my wet dream of the night before was still very vividly in my mind. 'Would you give me a job, sir?' I asked, 'I need to earn some money.' 'Certainly, I'll pay you whatever Abelsen was giving you, and the work probably won't be so hard, and you won't have Vries to worry about.' He took a pull at his cigar, and looked out over the countryside. 'It goes without saying after last night that there could be other opportunities for you to earn extra cash, but that would be up to you.' I was all righteous indignation again, but before I could say anything he went on: 'Listen to me very carefully, Mark. While you're in this house you are completely safe. Nobody is going to do anything to you against your will, or lead you into what you probably think is moral turpitude. I have a wide circle of friends, nice people, who share some of my interests with me. After last night you know about at least one of my interests. You're a mere boy, and there is no way you can understand all the complexity of the behaviour of men of my age. You have, however got assets which we don't have, which are not going to last for ever: you're young, you're good-looking, and you've got a youthful figure that looks really good in jeans.' I was starting to get up from the table again, but he waved his cigar at me and went on 'Hear me out Mark. I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to you against your will. I just want you to hear my side of the argument.' He stubbed out his cigar, and turned round to face me. 'Most of us had your assets at your stage of our lives. Very few of us got an opportunity to benefit financially from them, while not getting involved in vice or other depravities. Our pastime, if I can call it that, is clean, transient and non-_s_e_x_ual: it gives us great pleasure, while it causes you a temporary pain.' I broke in: 'The pain may be temporary, but it's very intense.' Anthony gave me a tolerant look. 'Do you really think you're the first boy who ever got caned? All this is as old as the hills, except that in the past you'd have got it anyway, and you certainly wouldn't have earned any money in the process.' He went on 'What I'm trying to get across to you is that in one or two years' time you will have outgrown your present physical appearance, and you'll no doubt be into girls and all the other follies of young men. What you have at the moment is irreplaceable, and I'm offering you a way to earn some money from it. Another factor to take into account is that you appear to have a deep capacity for taking punishment, considering that you tell me you've never really experienced it before. You may well be ideally constituted for what I'm suggesting to you.' He got up. 'There's no hurry to decide. Think about it for a few days. If you want to talk to me again about it, feel free to do so. The job and the accommodation are yours whatever you decide' He strolled off, leaving me in a complete mental turmoil. As I got up to go back into the house I took the envelope with me.
The subject wasn't mentioned again that week. Stefan and I got down to work on the farm; we didn't have a foreman as Anthony ran the place himself. He seemed happy for us to remain in the guest rooms in the house, so we were both very comfortable. For the first time since I arrived in the Republic I was happy. On the Saturday night, when we had been there a week, Anthony put on a dinner like the one we had had our first night. There were just the three of us, and we all ate and drank well. Almost as soon as the meal itself had finished, Stefan excused himself and said he was going to bed. Anthony picked up his brandy and motioned to me to follow him into his library, where there was a large log fir burning. 'Stefan's a nice lad, isn't he?' he said. 'Yes,' I said, 'I like him, but he's dull company. It's a pity Chris had to go back to Johannesburg: he's more my sort.' He gestured to the brandy decanter, but I shook my head. We made conversation for the next hour or so. He was an interesting talker, and seemed to have been all over the world: he certainly knew a lot about England. He lit another cigar.
'Have you had any thoughts about what we talked about last Sunday, Mark?' Then, immediately, 'Don't answer me for a moment, I want to tell you about next weekend. I have some old friends coming to stay. I've known all of them for many years, and they come here quite frequently. I shall be delighted to introduce you and Stefan to them, and I expect we shall be able to spend some time together, though there will also be some business discussions when it would be convenient if you were both elsewhere for a while. One of my friends, Edward, is about twenty years older than me. He's a prominent man.' Anthony paused. 'I know he would find you irresistible as a subject for punishment. I haven't said anything to him about you, because I intend to keep my word to you about your free choice in this matter. I wondered if I might bribe you a bit, however, by mentioning that if you were willing to indulge Edward I would like to reward you with another monetary disbursement ... let's say the same that you won the other night.' I swallowed: There must be something wrong here, but the sheer amount of the money he was offering made me think seriously about it ... as he said, it was bribery ... another fourteen hundred pounds?. 'Would it be the same as the competition, sir? I mean would it be the same kind of situation ... the same cane and the same number of strokes? He wouldn't want me bare or anything?' 'I don't know, Mark' he said; 'I'd be lying if I promised you that I knew exactly what form it would take. What I can promise you is that you will be safe, and your dignity will remain intact; you have my word on that.' I was coming to know Anthony, and I believed what he had just said. He went on 'I think I should also mention that if you did agree to my proposal, my other friends would probably want to watch what happened to you, though they would probably take no other part in it. Would you object to that?' I could feel myself being led into a position where it seemed that I had already agreed to the main proposal. But as I sat in front of the fire, and thought about another fourteen hundred pounds in my kitty, my reservations appeared lest robust. It was true that I'd come through the competition relatively unscathed, but that had been because I was fighting Chris. Passively allowing somebody I didn't know to thrash the arse off me, even under the protective aegis of Anthony, was another matter ... but then there was the money to consider.
'Can you give me an answer in principle, Mark, so I can start mapping out the weekend?' I knew I'd already made up my mind, so there was no point in beating about the bush any more. 'OK sir, I'll do it, but I'm really relying on you to keep me out of trouble.' He got up and slapped my shoulder. 'Good boy! I'll make sure you won't regret it.' The next few days passed quickly, but as the weekend drew near I started to be filled with apprehension. On the Thursday night I had another violently enjoyable wet dream, almost the same as the previous one.
Anthony's friends arrived on Friday. The first night they all had a private dinner together, but on Saturday morning Anthony asked if Stefan and I would join them for dinner that evening. 'There's no need to dress up, just come as you are.' I knew he was telling me that my debut as an entertainment was scheduled for that evening. Suddenly, as I felt the cold chill in my stomach, I also started to feel excited. I'd had my jeans washed during the week in preparation for this, and I looked out a clean T-shirt. I felt I looked the part, though something inside me worried about what my parents would think about how I was earning money; however, I thought to myself, they're nearly seven thousand miles away, and they'll never know. My heart sank when we were introduced to Anthony's guests. Edward was at least sixty, quite portly and nearly bald: the other two looked like what I imagined you'd find in the bar at the golf club. Stefan stayed in the background, as Edward came straight across to me. 'Mark, I'm really pleased to meet you. I've heard some very interesting things about you.' We shook hands. Later I could sense him looking me up and down, but Anthony kept the conversation flowing, and the moment passed. I hardly drank during the meal, and at the end, when the men were passing the brandy round Stefan once again said he was taking an early night, and left us. The conversation continued for another half an hour or so. I was almost bursting with anticipation. I was conscious of my erection gradually increasing. Nobody seemed to want to make a move, and it was already half past eleven. Anthony caught my eye, and winked.
'Gentlemen,' he said. 'I've arranged a special entertainment for us tonight in honour of Edward's good news. I've been exceptionally fortunate to be able to engage the talent of young Mark here to act as a subject for Edward to deal with. I don't want to embarrass the lad, but I'm sure that you will have noticed that he is particularly well equipped for his role.' I wanted to kick the old farts in the teeth, each and every one of them, but the thought of the money kept me looking fairly demure. 'I suggest that we get down to business fairly soon, so that we still have some evening left afterwards to finish our discussions. Mark, it's time for you to change down to just your jeans over your bum like before.' I went and did as I was told. Once again they were all waiting in the hall. Anthony took my arm and lead me across to the stables while the others followed. 'I've told him you're under my protection, but he's otherwise got a free hand, so I don't know what he's planning. If you're unhappy about any of it just say so and I'll intervene, OK?' When we got to the inner room there was an open space in the centre; The horse was over against a wall. Anthony said to Edward: 'All yours, old friend.' I was now standing on my own in the centre of the room, with lights shining on me all round. I could see the others scattered around the periphery of the room. Out of the darkness Edward emerged. He'd taken off his jacket and was holding what looked like a whip; it had a short handle and a braided leather thong about three-quarters of an inch thick at the handle end tapering to about half an inch at the business end. It was about two feet long. 'Know what this is boy?' I shook my head. 'Speak up boy.' 'No sir,' I said. 'It's a quirt ... I think you're going to find it quite interesting. It's a traditional instrument for punishing boys in Spanish parts of America.' He brought it down swiftly though the air, so I could hear it swish. 'How do you fancy that across your bum then?' I didn't know what to say so simply said 'Not very much, sir.' 'Not at all, in a moment or two, I'll wager. Bend down and touch your toes.' I could hear a frisson of activity among the spectators.