A boy's journal of his life in 1902
We rode along that bumpy, rutted dirt road to Peru, Texas about 35 miles from the orphanage. We had to put bandanas across our faces to keep out the dust kicked up by the two horses pulling our wagon.
I don't even know the names of the couple I'm sitting between who adopted me. I did watch the man using his horse whip viciously on the hindquarters of those horses. The beasts had welts on their rears. That son-of-a-bitch better not even think of using that whip on me. I don't know what I'll do. But he ain't gonna do it to me, that's for _f_u_c_k_ing sure.
That ride to Peru took the longest time. My butt was sore from bouncing around on that wooden seat. The lady seemed uncomfortable, too. The man seemed not to mind it at all.
He started to slow down as we entered town. A sign on the roadway said there were 450 souls living in the town. That's the biggest city I've ever lived in, but I want to go to Austin or Houston or Dallas someday to make something of myself. Dallas has trains now that can take you anywhere. I want to go somewhere, but I don't know where.
People were waving at the couple as we entered town. I sorta waved back. We pulled in front of a store with a sign that read "Tim the Blacksmith."
The couple got out of the wagon. He tied the horses to a railing. We went through the large shop to the rear yard where there was a small house. You could almost see the house from the street. We went inside.
"Bobby, I want you to call me Dad. I want you to call Mary, Mom. Got it."
"Yes, sir," I said. They're not my mom or dad. But, hey, if that's what they want I'm not going to fuss. I'm not gonna rattle anybody's cages at this point. I have to survey what I'm in for before I get into any trouble.
"You're gonna help me in the shop, son. You've got chores to do for your Mom. I have rules for you to follow. You understand?"
"Yes, sir." By now I'm getting a little pissed off at this guy. He's set down names to call them, chores to do and _f_u_c_k_ing rules. Where's the big Hello, a Hug and Welcome Home? So far I think they adopted me to be their slave boy. They are short on words and no emotion.
"Here's three-cents, son, go over to the General Store and buy Mom a sack of flour. Hurry on."
I ran out of the shop and looked up and down the street for the General Store. I saw it to my left, across the street a half a block away. As I ran down the dirt road jumping over horse _s_h_i_t_, I saw some kids. I saw several people walking and suddenly noticed that all the kids had shirts on. I suddenly realized that I didn't have one on. I suddenly realized that I had welts on my back and a few on my chest. I suddenly felt naked. Oh, _s_h_i_t_! I now feel embarrassed and naked. What are people gonna think of me? I now knew humiliation.
I ran back to my new home to get a shirt. I started running through the shop.
"Where you going, son?"
"To get a shirt. All the kids out there are wearing shirts. And I have welts on my back."
"Forget the shirt. Go to the General Store now or I'll put a few more welts on your backside."
That _f_u_c_k_ing bastard.
I ran as fast as I could to the General Store and, without watching, stepped into horse _s_h_i_t_. This day is turning into a _f_u_c_k_ing disaster. I noticed people looking at me. Some kids seemed to be laughing at me. These little bastards better not think I'm gonna be some kind of pushover. I'll beat the _s_h_i_t_ out of them someday if they keep laughing at me. Believe me, I know how to fight. You don't survive in an all boy orphanage without knowing how to fight.
I tried to wipe the horse _s_h_i_t_ off my bare feet and started to walk into the General Store. About four old men were in rocking chairs in front of the store. They gave me a big stare. Inside the store, a man behind the counter said:
"You must be Tim's new kid. They sure did whip you at that orphanage. You must'a got into some real trouble lately. Be careful not to get into too much trouble with Tim. He's our blacksmith, and he also makes buggy whips, all kinds of whips. He's a master at using them. What do you want, kid"?
"I have three cents for a bag of flour."
This guy is really pissing me off. Then a couple guys came into the store, and one said:
"You Tim's new boy? Has he whipped you already? Better mind your manners and do as your told around Tim, son."
"Thanks for the flour, sir."
I ran out of that _f_u_c_k_ing store as fast as I could. I didn't care how much horse _s_h_i_t_ I hit on the way home in just my bare feet. I just wanted to bury myself somewhere for a month or two. I wanted to run away.
Tim, or Dad, was talking to a customer as I ran through the shop to deliver the flour to Mom. Thank God he didn't pay any attention to me.
"Mom, here's the flour. May I please ware a shirt? Please."
"You can ware one. But be careful with it; it's your only shirt. We don't have the money to buy you clothing."
"Mom, can I walk about the town and see the place and maybe meet some kids? I won't be long."
I saw a group of boys near an old building not far from the Town Saloon. I walked over to see what they were doing and if I could play.
"Hey, you. You the little orphan boy in town? You can't join us. We don't like little orphan boys."
The bastard hit me on the shoulder and pushed me back making me lose my balance and fall backward on my butt. All the boys laughed at me. I felt like getting up and thrashing that little bastard. I don't want to start trouble now. But I also don't want these kids thinking I'm an easy target to bully. I stood up.
"I don't like being called an orphan boy, kid. My name is Bobby. Remember it. And I don't like being pushed around and laughed at."
With that I punched the kid in the belly, twirled him around and pushed him face down on the dirt. I grabbed his right arm and pulled it around his back and applied a lot of pressure on him. My right knee had him pinned down at the small of his back.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Joe. Let me go. That hurts."
"Listen, Joe. My name is Bobby. You call me that. I'll call you Joe. You call me an orphan boy again and you'll have a bloody nose and a black eye. Got that?"
I applied more pressure on the kid's back and his arm. "Got that, Joe? Got that?"
"Yea. Let me go. This hurts."
"What's my name, Joe?"
"Bobby. Please let me go."
He got up and rubbed the dirt off himself. I looked around at the other kids with a stance and a stare that said, "I'll take you all on now or one at a time." None of the other boys wanted to fight at that time. I shook Joe's hand and said:
"Let's be friends, OK."
I did the same to the others. I wasn't about to let them bully me on my first day. That would mean disaster for me in the days ahead. I knew we'd all get into a fight someday. But I didn't want it to be today. I won Round One.
We ran off together to play and explore. I had a chance to get to know them and size them up. They'd be doing the same to me.
That night at dinner Dad said someone told him I was in a fight with Joe and had him pinned down. I didn't know if I'd be in trouble over this. So, I explained what happened, and that I shouldn't allow myself to be bullied on my first day in town. To my surprise he said he was happy that I stood up for myself but was glad that I hadn't tried to beat the _s_h_i_t_ out of some kid.
I told them I wanted to go to school. I wanted to learn so I could be somebody. To my surprise Mom said I should go to school. Dad said I didn't need any more schooling. I was 13 and had enough. He would teach me to be a blacksmith and learn some trades. He wanted me to work in the shop. Eventually, after Mom argued for me, Dad agreed to let me go to school. But I'd still have to work in the shop. This was a good arrangement. The school was open for older kids only in the mornings, so the kids could work the farms and other places in the afternoons. I was told school used to start in the afternoons after the kids worked. The school people said the kids learned better in the morning rather than in the afternoon after working so hard.
Two days later I was enrolled in this small schoolhouse of four rooms, each for different age kids. I was in the older classroom. There were twelve of us in that room equal between boys and girls.
The very first thing I noticed when entering the room was a long wooden paddle hanging at the far side of the room by the blackboard. I wondered how long it would take before that paddle found its way to my ass. Given my history, I figured about a week at the most before that paddle was used to punish me. I looked about the room to wonder who would be first. I figured Lou would get it before me. That kid just can't keep his mouth shut.
I was right. In just three days Lou was at the front of the class bending over the teacher's desk. That little woman, who's our teacher, could sure wallop Lou's butt. She gave him a dozen spanks. In that little room, those spanks were very loud hitting Lou's ass. I was laughing inside. That kid was making more crying noises than a new born baby. Where is this kid's manhood and dignity? A dozen spanks is not that big a deal. It's warmup time for me. Surely to God he's had it this bad or worse before. Why the big fuss?
I noticed that the girl's all sat silently and seemed a little frightened. I haven't been around girls much. So, I guess they would be embarrassed being punished in front of a bunch of boys.
I looked at the boys. Some were snickering with little audible giggles. I wondered if these boys ever knew what a real whipping was like. One that gave you some red hot welts all over your naked body that stung like hell for days. They should have been in the orphanage with me. Then they would know what a real whipping is like, not this little two bit dozen spanks with a paddle from a little old lady.
A month went by and I haven't been punished with a spanking or a whipping. I must be sick or something. I've never gone this long without getting a beating from someone in authority. I must be losing my touch at getting into trouble. Maybe I'll think of something so that I get punished with a good spanking. I'm beginning to miss it and the _s_e_x_ual stimulation that I get with receiving one.
During that month Dad didn't teach me anything about the blacksmith trade except cleaning the place. I just sorta watched him. He sure is busy. People bring him horses all the time. He repaired carriages, wagons, tools and machinery. The smoke from the forge made things kinda dark. I thought it was neat watching him use tongs to pull out pieces of white glowing iron and then turn quickly to the anvil and hammer them hard to weld and to shape them.
Mom worked in one part of the shop with leather goods. She made buggy whips, horsewhips, bullwhips, riding crops and straps. They had a lot of whips hanging around that people bought for whatever. Mom was weaving leather, cutting leather and all sorts of things.
Dad wanted me to make a whip, a paddle and a strap that he would use to punish me. That felt really weird, me making the things that he'd use to spank and whip me. It also gave me a hard on the whole time I was making them and thinking about him or Mom using them on me. I wondered if he was going to test them out on me before deciding they were good enough for real punishment. I jokingly asked him that question as Mom and I were working on them.
"Yes, indeed, son. You'll strip naked, and I'll test them on you with Mom watching."
I didn't say anything more, but I felt a big bulge growing in my shorts. Dad has really big and strong hands from all that stuff he does as a blacksmith. I'll bet he could spank my ass across his knee really hard with those hands. That day will come, and so will I cum. I'm looking forward to it in a weird sorta way. After I finished making my instruments of punishment, Dad told me to take a piece of wood and with red paint to printout "Bobby's Punishments" and hang in it in a place for all to see along with the other whips and leather things that people buy.
Another week went by, and I've been a good boy again. Something has to be wrong with me. I've never been that good for this long. Most of the time I usually find myself in some sort of trouble, not big trouble just little things that drive adults nuts.
At school the teacher made us copy down some math problems she wrote on the blackboard and told us to take them home, solve them and bring them back the next day. After school I was supposed to go to the shop and help Dad. Joe said he could get to use his big brother's horse, and we could ride out into the hills for a while. I said OK but that we would have to be home soon so I could work in the shop. Soon took longer than we thought, because we got lost. We had trouble finding the trail back to town.
We finally got back two hours after we left school. I got off the horse at Joe's house and ran like hell to the shop. I still had my school paper with the home assignment. I rushed into the shop out of breath. Dad was talking to Harry the owner of the General Store. The look on Dad's face spelled out FURIOUS. I tried to explain what happened, but he didn't buy it.
"Late is late and work didn't get done," he said.
Dad pulled up a stool to sit on and told me to get naked for a spanking. I looked at Harry standing there with a grin on his face and arms folded over his chest while resting against a wall of the shop. I've seen that sort of grin many times at the orphanage when I was about to be punished. I guess people like seeing someone getting a spanking. I know I like to watch.
I did as I was told and laid across Dad's lap with my butt sticking out for Harry to see. I had a hard-on, and probably Dad knew that. It didn't bother me having Harry watch. I've been spanked and whipped in front of so many people at the orphanage that it long ago stopped causing me any embarrassment.
Dad laid his hand on my ass. His huge, rough hand covered my entire butt. I knew I deserved this punishment and would try to take it without screaming out in pain. I'll just clinch my teeth and take it.
Dad started spanking my bare ass with the same power he used when hammering at that anvil. This guy was no amateur at spanking. After twelve very hard spanks and not a cry out of me, except tears rolling down my face, he told me to go to select a whip from my punishment board on the wall. I took the one with the three leather thongs. He ordered me to the tree between our house and the shop.
I'd seen a rope hanging from a branch from that tree many times but never asked what it was for. I assumed it was for kids to swing on or climb up the tree. I now found out it was for punishing little brats like me.
Dad told me to put my hands as high as I could on that rope and hang on for dear life. He was going to whip me from shoulders to my ass. If I let go of the rope, I'd get it harder and longer. I did as I was told.
Mom had come outside to watch the punishment. She had her arms folded over her bosom. Harry was standing there, too. The tree could be seen from the street. News travels fast in this small town. Soon my friend's Joe and Lou were there to watch along with four other people. I noticed the same _f_u_c_k_ing grin on Joe's and Lou's faces that was on Harry's. I had a small crowd to witness my punishment.
My brain connecting to my _c_o_c_k_ were going on and off. I had a hard-on and then the thing went limp, then back to a hard-on. I wish it would make up its _f_u_c_k_ing mind. People were looking at my backside. I don't think they could see the action between my legs. My Mom could. I hadn't been punished in front of women that much, and this sort of embarrassed me a bit.
Dad took that whip and started on my ass, then moved to my back and shoulders. He wrapped that whip around my chest and caught my tits. That really hurt. I was not howling or screaming, but I was letting out sounds of pain. Tears were flowing down my face like a river. My pain sounds got a little louder each time he whipped me in a place I didn't expect. This Dad of mine is a master at this sort of thing. He sure knew how to pace himself and take the most advantage of whipping me.
After 12 lashes, he told me to let go of the rope. I willing did so and automatically reached around to rub my ass. The audience clapped at my misery. My Mom told me to go to my room. I ran there as fast as I could while still crying.
I laid face down on my bed and sobbed. I was in a lot of pain. Mom walked in with some soothing stuff. I don't know what it was. She started rubbing me all over very gently. That felt good, really good. I asked her if I had welts and she said yes, from my shoulders to my ass.
My chest hurt, too. My tits, two little guys I especially love and like to rub, scratch and twist to give me _s_e_x_ual stimulation were really hurting. I was afraid Dad ripped them off. I raised myself as much as I could and asked Mom if they were OK and to rub some stuff on them. I told her I didn't want anything happening to them. She gave a slight laugh and said they would be fine. I think she knew my _s_e_x_ual concern.
I had never had a woman soothe me after a punishment, not that I can remember. I was surprised that it didn't embarrass me. She was so good at what she was doing that I thought she had done this many times before.
Although I was in a great deal of pain, I felt my brain connecting to my _c_o_c_k_ and a hard- on coming on strong. If she keeps this soft rubbing up much longer, I may cream the bed very soon. That's something I really didn't want to do with her there.
While Mom was rubbing me — and I was enjoying it very much and had stopped crying — I told her I had a school assignment due tomorrow. Although, I was in a lot of pain, I wanted to try to finish the math questions. She told me to try but get some sleep and rest after that punishment. She left the room with her lantern.
My room was dark again, and I tried to light my lantern. The _f_u_c_k_ing thing was out of oil. No light. No assignment finished. I thought I might get a spanking from the teacher if I was the only one not to finish the assignment. Her paddle on top of Dad's whipping me might be too much.
I rubbed my tits and felt the hard-on between my legs. I thought of tonight's punishment and the people watching. I creamed the bed. I fell asleep.
The next morning I put on the denim pants Mom bought me. That rough fabric rubbing against my very sore ass was too much for me to take. I changed to my cotton shorts, and that felt a whole lot better.
Mom and Dad were already eating when I entered the kitchen. Dad told me to take my shirt off and leave it off until all the welts healed. He wanted people to see that I had been punished. That was the same thing that happened in the orphanage. The kids in town seemed to like me and so did the adults. I don't think it will bother me much like it did my first day in town when nobody knew me.
I had a really hard time sitting on that wooden chair in the kitchen. My butt was stinging badly. I could not concentrate on my math assignment. I wanted to stay home from school and work in the shop. Dad said no. He said the teacher should spank me for missing my work. Being late is no excuse for Dad. The hours ahead for me that day would surely be uncomfortable.