Mike was just a bad seed. At least that's what his stepfather John must have thought. Since his mother had died three years ago, it seemed that Mike couldn't do anything right, and John made sure that he knew, every time.
Of course, John's rules didn't make anything easier. There was a rule for every aspect of John't life, from the way he dressed to the way he talked. John was now 18 years old, and he dreamed of being free of his stepfather's cruel ways. But John had nothing; no starting point to go off into the world and make it on his own.
And the rules made sure of that. John had to dress in clothing approved soleley by his stepfather. For school, a button-down shirt, dress pants (no jeans) and slick, newly polished shoes were the rule. The shirt had to be neatly tucked into the pants, which were to be firmly cinched by a belt at all times. The socks had to be complementary to the shirt. The shoes had to match the belt. Every piece of clothing had its own set of rules.
The rules concerning personal appearance concerned not only clothing, but speech, posture, and movement as well. Mike could only speak to adults when spoken to. His posture had to be perfect and straight. If it wasn't straight, Mike had to wear a corset for a week to straighten his torso out. John would personally lace the corset every morning, pulling the laces in tight around Mike's waist, sometimes reducing his waist by up to 8 inches, and then Mike would wear it all day. Mike could not run or yell in the house.
And for every rule broken, Mike was punished, usually with a whipping. A shed behind the farmhouse where they lived was devoted to whippings, always carried out by John himself. Inside the shed, a whole wall was dedicated to whipping apparatuses; leather whips, leather paddles, belts, cat-o-nine-tails, and the like. there were probably 30 different whips for John to choose from. The center of the shed was where the whipping post was located, with all its fury. It was a cross-shape, made of logs. A log of about 12 inches in diameter was sunk into the ground and served as the main post. Across it, about 5 feet above the ground, the crosspiece was nailed. On each end of it were leather cuffs that could be cinched around Mike's wrists, to hold him defenseless.
The sequence for a whipping was always as follows: First, Mike was ordered to remove his shirt and shoes. After doing so and laying them aside carefully, John would secure Mike to the post. Once he had tied him tight, John would reach around Mike's torso and unbuckle the boy's belt, then pull his pants down and off. Then followed the boxers, leaving the boy totally nude, his adult-sized dick and balls scraping against the rough wooden structure.
The selection of the strap followed. Now that Mike was 18, John would whip the boy not only on the ass, but also on the back. So he would pick two straps' one was usually belt-like, basically a leather strap 1-2inches wide and a couple of feet long. This was used on the buttocks. The other whip used was usually a cat. This whip, with its 9 strips of thin leather with knots at each end, was used to lash the boy's back, and its fury would leave would leave welts and scabs all over the tender flesh of the back.
Once the selection was complete, John would tell Mike his punishment. Because of his age and his ruggedness, Mike usually received 60 lashes; 30 to the buttocks, and 30 to the back. Then John would take his stance, and start his punishment. He always started with the buttocks.
WHACK! The strap flashed against the tender ass cheeks, sending white-hot pain into the boy's flesh. The strap was rhythmic, along with the boy's tearful cries. As the final lashes approached, John would often reach around the boys and push his genitals back towards the ass, so that the leather strap could bite into the tender ballsack and fleshy _c_o_c_k_.
After a brief rest, the lashing of the back would begin. With all his might, John ripped loose with the cat-o-nine tails.
THWACK! The tender strips of calfskin thrashed the boy's back, leaving behind their telltale markings. Mike would cry and scream and beg his stepfather to stop, but the lashing continued. Often, John would continue whipping past the 30 lashes, delivering as many as 80 at a time.
When all was over, John would leave the boy hanging for a while, usually about a half hour. During this time, Mike knew that the old bastard was off somewhere, whacking himself off on the pain of his stepson. But he couldn't say anything, as he knew what would happen if he did.