It was 7:03 when his car pulled up to the gate and stopped. I remained hidden in the woods until the horn blew the signal and he stepped out with his keys in his hand. His description was accurate: red hair, tight jeans stretched over a bubble butt, white t-shirt and work boots.
I stood up and lingered for a few seconds before emerging from the woods into the driveway behind his car. "Give me your keys," I stated. Startled, he turned toward me, extended his hand and dropped the keys into the box I held out to him. "Now, the jewelry," I demanded. He removed his rings, earring, and watch and placed them in the box. "You're three minutes late, boy!" I admonished.
As he started to speak I put my hand over his mouth and told him to shut up and bend over the hood of his car. He followed orders immediately. I moved behind him, unbuckled my belt, whipped it from my beltloops so it made enough noise for him to hear, and then, holding onto the buckle end, yelled " COUNT 'EM, BOY!" WHAPP!
"ONE"
"SIR, BOY!" WWHAPP!
"ONE, SIR" WWHAPP!
"TWO, SIR" WWHAAAPPP!
"THREE. SIR"
"Now, sit up, boy." I ordered. I knew the hood of his car was still hot from the trip, so it would be very uncomfortable on his belted ass, but that was the point. I saw him wince as I unlocked and opened the gate. I got into his car, drove past the gate. stopped and said, "Lock it boy." He slid off the hood, closed the gate, locked it, and turned to look at me. I pointed to the hood, he resumed his position, and I slowly drove the quarter mile down the driveway and pulled into the clearing in the woods where his car would remain until he left. I got out, put his keys in the box with his other belongings, placed it on the seat, and closed the door.
"Stand up, boy," I ordered. As he slid off the hood and stood before me, the look on his face indicated he knew his adventure had just begun! "Strip to the waist, boy!" I ordered, and he quickly peeled off his t-shrt and handed it to me. As I threw it onto the trunk of his car I noticed that his arms and neck were considerably darker than his torso. This boy wasn't accustomed to going shirtless, and my excitement grew.
"Turn around," I said, and as he did so I pulled some rope from my pocket and cut a six foot length with my pocket knife. "Put your hands behind your back, boy," I ordered. When he complied, I tied his hands together with one end of the rope and dropped the other end to the ground. I moved around to face him, bent, picked up the rope and pulled it up tight betwen his legs so that it cut into that asscrack and up against his crotch. Keeping a tight upward grip on the rope, I lead him, bowlegged, to his destiny.
The saddle was already cinched to a fallen oak tree in the edge of the field by the creek. I cut his hands free and told him to bend over the saddle. I then cut the rope into four sections, tied one on each wrist and ankle, and tied each to four stakes already driven into the ground. He was immobile, and shaking. I reached over with my hand and gave his left cheek a firm squeeze. "A wallet" I yelled as my hand recognized the familiar bulge.
"I forgot, sir" he whimpered. I removed the wallet, placed it into the tack box on the ground at my feet, and walked the fifteen feet to the creekbank. I removed my knife from my pocket, found a strong yet supple cane, cut it and returned to position behind the prone boy. He grimaced as I stripped the leaves from the cane and threw them into his face.
"You won't forget the next time!" I promised him, and rained a relentless series of ten strokes of that cane across his denim covered ass. He jerked with each stroke, as tears streaked his face. When I laid the cane down on the ground under his face, he softly replied,"I'm sorry, SIR."
"Not yet, boy, but you will be before I'm finished!" I removed the bandana from my hip pocket and wiped the tears from his eyes, then held it to his sniffeling nose for him to blow.
"Thank you, sir" he said in an innocent, childlike tone which almost melted my heart; almost, but not quite.
"You have a lot to learn, boy," I said in a tough but understanding voice. I reached down and loosened the ropes holding his hands to the stakes. "Stand up," I ordered. He struggled to his feet which were still tied, and stood with dfficulty. feet three feet apart. "Drop your pants, boy," I demanded. He fumbled with the buttons until finally his jeans slid down just below his ass. "Back across the saddle, boy," I said.
When he was back in position, I retied his hands to the stakes and moved the tack box in front of him so he could see into it. His eyes widened as I removed a riding quip from the box and disappeared around behind him. I pulled down on the back of the waistband of his jeans, managing to slide them down only another inch due to the angle his legs were spread. His white boxer briefs were slightly soiled and I knew the cane had made an inpact on his attitude.
I let my hand wander over his firm cheeks long enough to feel the heat radiating from them before bringing it down hard in five quick slaps. He jerked slghtly, but made no sound and shed no tears. I knew this was not as bad as the cane, even on the thin fabric of his briefs, but I also knew the riding crop would bring a different response. And it did. He screamed in pain as the first swat of the crop landed solidly on his left cheek. The sound of it reverberating through the woods and across the creek made my dick hard. Each slap of the crop sent a quake through his entire body, causing a pulsating throb in my already rock-hard _c_o_c_k_. I was enjoying this immensely. The fifteenth crack of the quip elicited a low moan from him instead of a scream, and I knew he had had enough; enough of the quip, that is.
"Look in that box, boy! What do you see?" I asked.
With an uncertain quiver in his voice, he reluctantly answered, " a paddle, sir."
As I moved behind him again with the paddle, the boy cried out,"Please, no!"
CRAACKK!!! "SIR, BOY!" I yelled at him . CRAAACKKK!!! "PLEASE, SIR. Please no Sir! No more Sir, PLEASE, SIR!!!!" His cries echoed from the far creekbank. The sincerity in his pleading tone stopped my arm in midswing.
"OK boy, no more board," I replied with the most soothing tone I could manage. I knew he was in real agony from the previous asswhippings I had given him. I also knew his limits, and we weren't there; not YET.
As a warning, I gently rubbed the paddle across his stinging ass, turning in on it's edge and sliding it between his cheeks and down his crack to apply a slight pressure on his ballsack. He winced, but made no sound.
I placed the board back in the box, then wiped his eyes and allowed him to blow his nose again.
"Thank you, Sir" he all but whispered.
"You're welcome, boy," I replied. As I returned the bandana to my pocket, I realized that my sweat soaked shirt was sticking to my body. I peeled it off, walked to the creek and plunged the soaked cotton into the cool water. I wiped my face with it, dunked it again and returned to the boy.
He gasped, and then sighed as I laid the cool wet shirt across his sundrenched back and burning ass. As he began to moan a low but audible sound of relief. I removed the shirt and wiped his face with it, Then I told him to open his mouth.
I stuck part of the still dripping shirt between his opened lips. "Suck, boy." I said. And suck he did. He was very thirsty, and knew this was the only drink of water he would get. Then I removed the shirt from his mouth, returned to my position behind him, twisted the shirt into a rope and popped his ass with it. He winced and cried out, and my _c_o_c_k_ jumped.
I laid the twisted shirt across his neck, removed my knife from my pocket and unbuttoned my jeans. I made sure he recognized the sound of my belt as I whipped it from my jeans. Then I laid it across his back very gently with the buckle end toward me and the business end hanging off his right hip.
I kicked off my boots, removed my sweatdrenched jeans and threw them over the tree to the right of the saddle to dry in the sun. I opened my knife, slid it under the outside left leg of his briefs, moved it up to the waistband, and in one swift motion, sliced the white cotton fabric from top to bottom, exposing his entire left cheek. I repeated with the right side, grabbed a fistfull of fabric right behind his balls and snatched.
Before he could flinch, I was waving them above his head like a flag of surrender. HIS surrender. I then stretched them, tied them into a knot, and gagged him with them tied tightly behind his head. "Scream, now, boy!" I demanded in a stern voice, and as his muffled cries began, so did my fresh assault on his bare, red ass!
After 15 hard spanks with my hand I wasn't sure who was suffering more. If this boys ass was half as sore as my hand I knew he was close to his limit.
Just as I was about to release my grip from the gag in his mouth, I recognized the gutteral sound coming from this boys throat. It was his safeword which we had agreed on months earlier. I was glad to hear it. I was tired, and ready to move this adventure to it's destination.
I untied the gag and walked around to the boys head. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't have time. I inserted the head of my _c_o_c_k_ between his lips and flooded his mouth with enough piss to fill a boot. Like all good boys who have learned their lesson well, he spilled none.
I withdrew my stiff _c_o_c_k_ from his mouth and he looked up at me and smiled, "Thank you, Sir."
I reached beneath me and retrieved a jar of hoof cream from the tack box. I removed the lid, held the jar under his nose and rammed the head of my dick into the jar. I withdrew, placed the lid back on the jar, returned it to the box and moved back into position bringing the box with me.
I turned the box on its side between his spread legs, climbed onto it and rubbed my greased dick along his hot asscrack. And I rode that boys ass for all it was worth, and it was worth plenty!
After only five minutes, I pulled my throbbing hard shaft out of his hole and squirted my cum all over his back from the top of his head to the base of his crack. I dismounted, stepped in front of him, and said, "Clean it, boy!"
When my _c_o_c_k_ was squeaky clean, I retrieved ny jeans from the tree, put them on and replaced my knife and belt. I proceeded to cut the four ropes holding him in position, leaving them hanging from his ankles and wrists. The pieces left on the stakes would play a role later.
"Stand up and pull up you pants, boy," I ordered. I followed his bowlegged stride to his car, and pointed to the hood. It was sitting in the shade now, so it would be a little relief, although he winced with pain as he climbed aboard, he sat in silence as I unlocked the gate and drove through it.
When I got out of the car, he threw his arms around me and hugged me. I lead him by the hand to the front of his car and said "Bend over, boy!" He took a deep breath when he heard my belt come off, and exhaled violently as the first SMAACKK landed. The second SMAACKK was followed by a scream, and the third was drowned out by the horn of a passing trucker who smiled as he went by.
As he gently settled into the drivers seat, he looked up at me and asked, "Next Saturday, Sir?"
"You'd better make it Sunday, 7am SHARP! I have some Cyber-friends coming Saturday for a REALTIME session."
Maybe he'll be recovered enough by then to take what I have in store for him!