An Ostrich Farm


by Winterton4 <Auto468267@hushmail.com>

There is a road that runs 600 miles from Port Elizabeth to Cape Town. It is called The Garden Route, for in the spring the 600 miles become alive with flowers. Most of the land is either flat or rolling, but there are intermittent deep chasms in the earth. You will be driving along the garden road, and suddenly the earth will open up. These days, many of the chasms have been bridged, which is a pity, for travelers but briefly glance down before reaching the other side. At the time that Colin and a group of fellow school children traveled the road on a coach bound for Cape Town, there were few bridges. Instead, the road suddenly spiraled down in a chasm that might be a few hundred yards wide at best, and upon reaching a forested floor with sunlight shining through canopied trees, it would burst right through a small stream and then wind up the side before continuing its journey west-northwest.

Colin thought the Cape was beautiful. A busload of boys and girls aged 12 to 16 could be quite noisy, even if overseen be a quartet of somewhat pressed teachers, but Colin was too excited by this adventure and absorbed by the scenery to even notice. Besides, he was only 12, among the youngest of the travelers, and noise did not bother him much.

It was an unusual expedition. School had just broken up for the summer and the local education department had arranged this multi-school trip. Boys and girls from various schools has signed up – a total of about 30, and their 2-week trip would take them along the garden route via Outdshoorn to Cape Town. Colin had heard that Cape Town was a lovely city, but he was especially looking forward to Outdshoorn, for outside that small town were the famous Cango Caves, and the area was also famous for its ostriches. The group leader had said that they might even be able to ride ostriches in an ostrich race. Colin was particularly looking forward to that. He could not imagine that an ostrich could be that big. But then, he had never seen one except in a magazine.

The only thing that marred the trip was that the older pupils were somewhat boisterous, and seemed more intent on the opposite _s_e_x_ than on the glorious landscape of southern Africa. It was not unusual for Colin to emerge from a cabin where they had slept overnight to see a 15- or 16-year-old boy sitting at a picnic table with a girl on his lap, the two highly intent on each other. This infuriated the group leader, one of the four teachers accompanying the group, who felt that this exhibitionism was in bad taste and a distraction from the purpose of the trip, which was to expose the young South Africans to their lovely land rather than to each other.

Colin was not of an age to be part of that offending group, so he was mildly amused if slightly taken aback by the goings-on. There was one other boy from his own school, Scott, a friend with whom he had signed up for the trip, and the two boys kept pretty much to themselves, following orders and regarding the interaction between the older pupils and their harried teachers with some bemusement.

Things reached a head one evening after they entered a campsite not too far from Outdshoorn. The leader assembled the entire group at a picnic area and unexpectedly announced that if this nonsense didn't stop he'd go out and buy a cane. (These days he would have said he'd send home the next one to misbehave. But that was then, so it was a hypothetical cane that he waved at everyone, not a threatened early return home).

Colin wondered whether Mr Maitland really would go out and buy a cane. And where would he get one anyway? Come to think of it, where did anyone get a cane? Where did the headmaster of his own school get one? Did they order them out of school catalogs? (Colin pictured a page in a school catalog of colored pencils and crayons and canes, each carrying an inviting description. Here would be the crayon description under its picture: "Brightly colored, non toxic, perfect for any child's art project." Next to the picture of the crayons would be a picture of a slightly bent cane, and under that: "Smooth and flexible, designed for the perfect stripe. Evenly distributes a line of burning pain across the bottom. Ages 8 and up. Effective in ending all behavior problems, including inappropriate relations between boys and girls".)

Colin went to get ready for the evening shower.

The boys' showers were in a separate cabin, and apart from the exterior walls, offered no privacy. Some boys showered while others stripped off and waited their turn. There was one very good-looking 16-year old boy having a shower. He had the most perfect, flawless, pale white, shapely backside that Colin had ever seen. He imagined Mr Maitland going after it with a newly-purchased cane. Then he thought of the catalog again, and imagined a picture of the back of that naked youth next to the picture of the cane. Lots of orders would come in as a result of that pairing of pictures. The school supply company would no doubt be most prosperous.

Colin suddenly realized it was his turn to shower.

The following morning everyone bundled back into the coach and they headed for Outdshoorn. Their first stop was the Cango Caves – a magnificent set of caves with columns and pillars and organ pipes and giant halls and underground pools, with not one thing man-made except for the lighting. At one turn Colin was struck by the array of stalactites sweeping down from a low ceiling in thin stalks. His mind took a turn to its earlier topic. Perhaps instead of buying canes out of a catalog, teachers bought them in special education supply shops. There they'd be hanging from the ceiling behind the counter, like these stalactites. A buyer would point to the cane that had the most appeal. "I'll take that one"—just as Colin did when he bought biltong in a tearoom by pointing to a fine-looking strip hanging from the ceiling on a hook.

Colin's mind was brought back to the cave by a rapped command and the realization that everyone was disappearing around a corner.

From the Cango Caves to the ostrich farm was a short drive. The behavior on the bus between the older boys and girls did not improve, and Mr Maitland looked exasperated. Justin, the 16-year-old whom Colin had noticed in the shower, was at the back kissing a girl.

The farm was a working ostrich farm that was also geared to tourism, especially for groups of traveling school children. It consisted of large fields seemingly sparsely populated with ostriches, but there were concentrated pens of ostriches in the main farm area, too. At the center of everything was a quadrangle. Along one side was the farmhouse, a long, low ranch house in the Dutch style. Along a second side was a cluster of cabins for overnight visitors. Along the third side was a small schoolhouse for the local population, probably the children of farm workers and local farmers, and along the fourth side ran a white fence that formed the boundary of a small field.

Their arrival was quite late in the day, so they spent most of the rest of the afternoon being assigned to cabins and taking it easy after the day at the caves. At dinner, the farmer made his appearance. He was a grizzled fellow with a straw hat and quite loud. He sat at the main table with the four teachers. Before they all started eating, Mr Maitland introduced the farmer, Jaap Van Rensburg, and said that after dinner there would be time to see some ostrich eggs before dark. Colin didn't think that sounded very interesting, since he ate eggs for breakfast most mornings and in appearance they were unexceptional things.

What he wasn't prepared for was the astonishing size of an ostrich egg. After dinner the travelers were herded through the gate into the field that ran along one side of the quadrangle. There as no ostrich in sight, but not far from the fence was a cluster of three enormous eggs, the size of footballs.

"You have to remember that ostriches are huge birds, big enough to ride on," said Mr Van Rensburg. "They are also very dangerous, very fast runners, and with a powerful kick that can seriously injure you. The mother of these eggs is in a pen while we inspect these eggs."

Colin saw Justin giggling with his girlfriend and paying little attention, while Mr Maitland glanced at them darkly.

At bedtime everyone changed into their pajamas and got into bed. They were allowed some conversation before a teacher came by the cabin to turn off the lights. He glanced suspiciously around the room, turned off the light, closed the door, and departed.

A voice came from a dark bed.

"Heather dared me to go lift one of those eggs we saw this afternoon," remarked Justin to William, another 16-year-old.

"What? That's really stupid," came the sleepy reply.

A pause.

"I might just do it."

William sat up and stared in the direction of his friend.

"You're mad."

"No I'm not. It would be fun. Think about it. What can happen?"

"Didn't you hear the farmer say ostriches are dangerous?"

"Maybe," replied Justin. He lay in bed staring up at the half-darkened ceiling. He finally came up with his plan, which he expounded to disbelieving ears: The eggs were not far from the gate. William would go to the fence some distance past the gate that was opposite the eggs, climb over, and draw the mother ostrich. Then Justin would quickly enter the field through the gate, grab an egg, and exit again while his friend clambered back over the fence. The egg would then be carried to the girls' cabin and ceremoniously presented to Heather.

"You're mad," said William again. "Do you know how many risks there are in that plan? I could get attacked by an infuriated ostrich. You could get attacked by an infuriated ostrich. The farmer or one of the teachers could catch us taking the egg. You could get caught sneaking into the girls' cabin. Need I go on?"

"If you want to lie there like a dummy, suit yourself," rejoined Justin. "But I'm going."

"I'll come," answered William. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Colin turned to his friend Scott.

"I have to see this," he whispered. "Let's follow them and watch. When they go into the girls' cabin we'll slip back into here."

"I dunno," whispered back Scott dubiously. "I dunno."

Silence again. Then:

"And another thing," said William. "It's dark. You won't be able to see the eggs."

"There's enough of a moon," answered Justin. 'That huge egg will be reflected even in half moonlight clearly enough."

"You're mad," came the reply yet again. "But what the hell."

A moment later two 16-year-olds climbed wordlessly out of bed, which was hardly necessary, since almost everyone now was aware of what was going on. The two boys opened the door and went out. There was a buzz in the room. A moment later two 12-year-old boys, Colin and Scott, also slipped out of bed and they, too, headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked one of the other boys.

"To the bathroom," came the reply. And so saying, Colin and Scott opened the door and exited, closing the door behind them. Several pairs of eyes drifted to the windows like spirits in the half light. No one was going to miss out on this.

When Colin and Scott found themselves outside, they took in the landscape. It was ghostly under the half moon. There was William stalking alongside the fence. There was Justin crouching by the gate. There was the silent shape of the ostrich.

Colin and Scott edged along the outside wall of their cabin to the end and waited.

The plan seemed to go perfectly. William climbed over the fence and feinted toward the ostrich, which rose up in outrage and started menacingly toward William. As it got closer, it accelerated. William jumped back over the fence just in time. The ostrich turned in time to see Justin spiriting away an egg. It raced back in a fury with lightning speed, and Justin only made it through the gate by a hair, holding the egg like a rugby ball.

He paused in triumph, then started walking toward the girls' cabin. William followed. A distance behind him, Colin and Scott followed, too.

Justin reached the door of the girls' cabin and opened it.

In the half light of the moon, events then happened quickly. Justin tripped over the top step and fell into the cabin, dropping the egg. There was a commotion inside and the sound of feet.

"It's Justin!" came a little scream.

"There's eggs all over the floor!" came a second little scream.

Lights went on in the teachers' cabin and an outside floodlight came on. It captured, for a disheveled Mr Maitland, the still image of a boy sprawled on a step at the girls' cabin and three boys stranded in no-man's land between the two cabins like deer in headlights.

Half an hour later, all was quiet again. Everyone was in bed and all the lights were off.

"What do you think they'll do to us?" asked Scott in fear.

"I can't imagine," replied Colin miserably.

William said, "There was one other risk I never mentioned earlier. You could trip and drop the egg."

Justin did not answer, but then William said, "Ow!"

As they eventually drifted off to sleep, all four were thinking of Mr Maitland's final words: "Go to bed and I'll deal with you in the morning."

Dawn broke over Outdshoorn, a red sky striped with thin black lines of cloud. The boys rose and dressed for breakfast, four of them in trepidation. They trooped over to the farmhouse and sat down for breakfast. However, when Mr Maitland saw them he never said anything – was he going to let the matter drop for want of any good options so far from home?

After breakfast everyone assembled for the ostrich races. These were, as Colin had hoped they would be, a highlight of the trip. Four ostriches were lined up across the starting line, and the boys and girls waiting their turn stood in line, the youngest first. Colin and Scott were among the first four children lifted onto the ostriches. There were no saddles – the ostriches had amazingly wide, soft, feathery backs and the children were instructed to lean forward with their arms around the ostriches' necks. Mr Van Rensburg lifted a whistle close to his mouth and called out, "On your marks, get set, phweeep!"

The ostriches bolted off the line and hurtled down the track – it was a distance of probably 50 yards. Their speed really was extraordinary and the children clung to the necks for dear life. At the finish line, farmhands were waiting to lift the riders down and lead the ridiculous-looking ostriches back to the starting line.

When the rides were over, which took some time because several wanted to go again, Mr Maitland announced that the rest of the day would be free time, but that Colin, Scott, Justin and William needed to follow him. There was something of a buzz as the four figures filed off behind Mr Maitland. He headed for the other side of the quadrangle – the schoolhouse. With increasing trepidation the four boys entered the building. It was a single room with rows of one-person desks, each with a lid slanting down towards a fixed chair.

Mr Maitland closed the door.

There waiting was Mr Van Rensburg, the farmer, holding a cane. Colin's heart stopped.

Mr Maitland spoke.

"Mr Van Rensburg here has offered me the use of the schoolhouse cane. Being the summer time, it hasn't been used for a while. I'm sure some exercise will do it good. And we need an object lesson that misbehavior will no longer be tolerated on this trip."

Mr Van Rensburg handed Mr Maitland the cane.

"I'll start with the younger boys." He pointed to the front desk. "Scott, take down your shorts and bend over!"

"Take down my shorts!?" exclaimed Scott in horror.

"That's how we do it here," answered Mr Van Rensburg, speaking for the first time. "On the underpants."

Scott knew his white cotton briefs were going to afford him little protection. He went to the front of the desk and bent over the sloping lid, his head pointing down towards the chair. Colin, despite his fear, could not but notice what a tempting target Scott presented: a narrow, shapely bottom pointing upwards, the bottoms of the cheeks completely exposed and even the covered upper parts of the cheeks somewhat visible through the tight thin cotton.

Mr Maitland tapped the bottom twice, then drew back the cane and slammed it down across the center. There was a loud crack that was audible through the open windows to the silent children on the other side of the quadrangle. The cane sank it and Mr Maitland held it down for a second before withdrawing it from the quivering flesh. Scott gave a yelp, and through the cotton, Colin could discern a stripe springing up. Mr Maitland had struck hard. The cane drew back again and cracked down again, this time lower across the exposed lower cheeks. This time Scott gave a yell and wiggled his bottom up and down before settling down again. A third swipe, another yell, more wiggling, and now Scott started to cry.

Colin watched in horror. Scott was really getting it and Colin was next. But worse was to come. Mr Van Rensburg suddenly stepped forward and peeled down Scott's underpants to just below his buttocks. Now the three faint stripes suddenly were bright and lurid. The cane came down a fourth time, sinking deep, the buttocks wobbling, and Mr Maitland again held it there a second as the fat quivered around it before it was withdrawn. Scott was writhing and groaning and trying not to twist, but he did a little and his penis was briefly visible. And then two more followed. A full six.

"Get up!" rapped Mr Maitland.

Scott painfully and tearfully pulled himself up and his hands shot behind. Then he remembered to pull up his underpants and shorts, which he did slowly, his face screwed up all the while.

Mr Maitland glanced at Colin, who immediately stepped forward, pulled down his shorts, and bent over the desk. He wanted to get this over with. Two taps, then the cane whirred through the air and lashed across the center of the white briefs with a crack. Colin jerked his head up and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Through his tears, still holding his seat, Scott watched in fascination. He was appalled at how far back Mr Maitland had drawn the cane before bringing it down. At school, the principal usually just raised it more or less parallel to the floor before letting loose. But this was from shoulder height. No wonder Scott was in agony, and he understood what Colin must just have felt from the first dumbfounding slash he had just received.

Colin's head was back down, his mouth closed, his bottom up, his body tense. Another tap, another whipping stroke across the buttocks, this time low down, another jerk of the head. This time Colin gave an agonized grunt. The third followed, and now Colin began to bounce frantically up and down. Mr Maitland paused for him to settle down, then stepped forward and peeled Colin's underpants down for the culminating 3 strokes.

Scott saw the three livid stripes from the middle of Colin's bottom down. They were not lines: they were thick welts. And Colin could no longer restrain himself:

"Ow!! Ow!! Owwwww!" he yelled.

Another scorcher and another yell. Then the fifth and a louder yell. Then Mr Maitland wound up for the final swipe.

"Eyow-ow-owwwwwww!" yelled Colin at the top of his lungs as the sixth and final welt sprang up.

Mr Maitland left Colin alternately writhing on the desk and pumping up and down until the boy became less frantic in his movements. Then he ordered him up.

Colin jerked up, clutching his bum and bending and unbending his knees as he frantically rubbed. Even through his own tears, Scott thought the wildly flapping penis looked quite comical.

Justin and William, meanwhile, the 16-year-olds, had gone white as ash. What was in store for them?

"I'd give them 9 on the bare bottom," said Mr Van Rensburg matter-of-factly, as if to answer their unspoken question.

"Both of you – drop your shorts and underpants and bend over and touch your toes."

Reluctantly, Justin and William complied, peeling down their shorts and then their underpants, their private parts springing suddenly free, and they bent over to touch their toes.

Colin, despite his agony, could not but admire Justin's perfect, symmetrical bottom, fleshy but not flabby. William's was a little flatter, but not much.

Justin was bent completely over, fingers on toes. The cane flashed, the soft buttocks shuddered, the cane was withdrawn, a lurid red line appeared in its place, and the boy gave an evocative yelp and a wriggle. Mr Maitland then walked over to William and repeated the procedure. William squirmed slightly but uttered no sound. Clearly Mr Maitland was really planning on drawing it out. With the cane alternating, each boy would be bent over twice as long.

And so Mr Maitland's arm rose and fell, and the two pairs of buttocks gradually changed color, eventually being adorned from top to bottom with vivid parallel stripes as the boys writhed and gasped and eventually yelled. Colin walked round to the front of the two latest victims, still clutching his own bottom. Their mouths were shaped into O's, tears were running down their cheeks, and their penises hung flaccidly between their legs.

Eventually they were allowed up. Now there were four pairs of hands clutching at four bottoms. The boys got dressed and painfully returned to their cabin to recover.

The other children were agog, watching their progress across the courtyard, and some followed them back to the cabin. The caned boys flung themselves onto their beds and lay on their stomachs, their heads buried in their pillows.

It took them several hours to recover. When it was time for showers, they were a star attraction. Colin later heard from William that Justin had met Heather behind a shed and had lowered his trousers to show her his weals, and that she had run her hand over them.

The trip from Outdtshoorn to Cape Town the following morning found four boys standing in the aisle of the bus despite the availability of seats among the other children. The schedule called for check-in at a boarding house, with free time the following day to visit relatives. Colin had an aunt in Cape Town but Scott did not; Colin invited him to spend the day with him.

Colin and Scott again slept on their stomachs that night, and the following morning went to the dining room for breakfast. They sat down gingerly.

"Bum still sore?" asked Scott.

"Yes. It prickles," replied Colin. "But it doesn't sting like it did. And it doesn't prickle all the time."

"Mine feels like the corrugated iron roof over the garage back home."

An hour later they were picked up by Colin's aunt and her 18-year-old son, Graham. She had to work, but Graham said he'd take them swimming.

Cape Town has an extraordinary feature. It is at the junction of the Atlantic and Indian oceans. Clifton Beach, on the Atlantic ocean, is always cold, with water temperatures in the 50's. Muizenburg, on the Indian ocean, is always warm, with water temperatures twenty degrees warmer.

As the boys changed in Graham's room, Graham asked them which beach they thought they might enjoy more. He stopped in mid-sentence as he saw the boys lower their shorts and underpants to put on their bathing suits.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

Colin explained.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes. I still have trouble sitting down."

"Me too," added Scott.

"You got a thrashing, no doubt about that," said Graham, inspecting the parallel raised weals. "You probably want to go to Clifton beach." And so saying, he took off his own clothes to put on his own bathing suit. Colin noted his soft, flawless behind.

"Have you ever been caned?" Colin asked tentatively.

"Yes. Only got six once though. It was sheer agony. I know how you must have felt – be feeling still, really."

Colin and Scott felt a 12-year-old sense of pride stirring at their own war experience.

They pulled on their bathing suits and then went down to the car. Graham drove them to the beach.

"That cold water will feel good!" shouted Scott exuberantly as the three raced to the water.

They ran in at full tilt, and then Colin and Scott suddenly yelled and raced out again.

"What's the matter?" called Graham. "Jellyfish? Blue bottles?"

"No!" answered Colin. "It's the salt in the water! My bum is stinging again!"

Graham laughed. He thought that was hilarious.

"Build a sand castle!" he said. "In a little while I'll take you to the fresh-water swimming pool down the beach!"

He settled back in the water and stretched his arms out languidly in a gently swell. He watched the boys bending over a growing sand castle. He could clearly see the stripes emerging from the sides of their skimpy bathing suits (the kind boys wore in those days, which today would be considered almost obscene).

It was a glorious feeling: floating in the bracing water, the sun shining on him, and the two boyish bums in front of him, stripes partially visible. A pity they weren't bare, but then, as his mother never tired of telling him, one can't have everything. He watched some more. He had a sudden urge to take them over his knee and spank them. Some day.


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