Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2001 18:44:45 -0800 (PST) From: Ukboy Subject: Arson Around -2 by UKboy (Historical) (M/b anal, spank) (In part one of this story our 11 year hero set fire to bush above his small country town. His father took him to the fire station where each of the firemen gave him a hiding. The Johansen twins also introduced him to 'rooting'. Now read on ...) Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now I can appreciate how appropriate it was, the firemen setting my small bottom alight like that. After all, my carelessness had caused a big fire and they had laboured all day, in intense heat, to put it out. At the time, all I was conscious of was the incredible hurt being inflicted on my backside. I never played with matches again. Almost a year passed before a dreadful tragedy ocurred which was to change my life forever. My parents were both killed in a train accident. The local policeman came to the school and told me what had happened. His masculine face was grey as he struggled to find the words. Then he took me home. My Auntie Ida stayed for a few days. The funerals were attended by every person in the district. People were kind but I felt alone, lost, sad beyond measure. Adults pondered what to do with me. Auntie Ida was a widow and in no position to bring up a headstrong young boy on her own. There was talk of me being sent to a Boys' Home but then Pa Johansen, father of the twins, stepped in. He offered to raise me as if I was his own son. So, one warm summer's day, I left the house I'd been born in and climbed up into the cab of Pa's truck. We drove the short distance in silence. My guardian was a tall, sparse man, of kind disposition but he was also a strict disciplinarian. The night of the fire I had seen many thick cane weals on Percy's taut buttocks. The twins were 19 years old but as long as they remained under their father's roof he dispensed punishment as he saw fit. The twins were at the door to greet us. They were not identical but had the disconcerting habit of sometimes speaking in unison. Both men worked for the district council so were strong and very fit. Pa was a widower and a woman who lived nearby came in every weekday morning to do the houswork and cook the midday meal. I was made very welcome. The twins shared one bedroom so I could have a room all to myself. After I'd unpacked I went outside and sat on the porch. Scott sat down beside me. "You remember the hidings you got the night of the fire?" His voice was masculine and deep. "Uh, huh". How could I forget! "And the root?" I blushed at the memory of his bloated penis - like a massive log jammed up my virgin rectum. "Uh, huh". "Well, it was very wrong of me to do that. I'm sorry. Am I forgiven"? "'Course". "Good lad". He ruffled my hair. The twins showed me around the small farmlet. There was a cow called Daisy who provided milk for the house and a dozen hens in the henhouse. I met Florrie the dog and Rastus the cat. After tea, Pa read Saturday's newspaper and the twins taught me how to play Chinese Checkers. The wireless provided the innocent music of the 1930s. When it was time to go to bed I dutifully pecked Scott and Percy's smooth cheeks and Pa's stubbly one. It was still daylight outside. I got undressed and into bed. The loss of my parents again overwhelmed me and I cried myself to sleep. After a few weeks with my new family I discovered the twins were really very different men. Scott was brash and confident while Percy was quieter, more vulnerable. Pa favoured Scott but poor Percy often got a thrashing from his father. I used to hear the sound of stick whacking flesh coming from the twins' bedroom. It was always Percy who was in trouble, never Scott. One Sunday afternoon Percy got a good hiding and then Pa and Scott went out for a few hours. After he'd recovered Percy joined me on the porch, wincing when he sat down. I pur my arm around him. "Percy, why is Pa always so mean to you?" "He's just trying to make a man of me, that's all". "But Scott was just as much to blame yet he didn't get a hiding". "Scott is Pa's favourite. Always has been". There was a long silence. I cuddled up to my big friend. "Well, you're MY favourite, Percy and that's the truth". He ruffled my hair. "You're a good kid. Damnation! My backside hurts like the devil". "Come with me". I took Percy by the hand and lead him into the twins' bedroom. "Shuck off your trousers and pants". I went to the bathroom and filled a basin with cold water. I picked up a flannel and went back to the bedroom. Percy was lying face down on the bed, his muscular buttocks covered with angry-looking raised purplish-red weals. I soaked the flannel in cold water and gently wet his swollen mounds. Percy groaned his appreciation. I wet my hands and then slowly massaged Percy's bottom. "That feels so good". "Percy?" I asked my friend, "Do you and Scott still..um..root?" He turned his head and looked at me. "Yeah. He gives me a root every morning. Pa does it most nights". Such arrangements were not uncommon between males in small country towns, back then. I looked inside Percy's hairy crease at his prominent anal bud while I kneaded his beautiful buttocks. "So who do you ..um.. do it with?" "No one". His voice was so sad, barely more than a whisper. I thought for a moment and then stripped off all my clothes. "You can do it with me if you like". Percy rolled over and his massive erection came into view. I swallowed at the sight of ten inches of thick love-muscle but, heart pounding, lay down beside him on the bed. Percy's tongue licked my bum cheeks and then moved inside my crease onto my pink pucker. He slurped my tiny opening, showering it with saliva. He reached under the bed and retrieved a jar of petroleum jelly. I felt his lubricated finger at my backdoor. "You're so tight", Percy marvelled. "Push down like when you do number twos". I relaxed, allowing his finger inside my hot, tight chute. "Feels like velvet" he said. After some minutes I got used to the feeling of his finger being inside me. "Are you sure you're ready to be rooted?" Percy asked me. "My big pecker will hurt". "I'm sure". Percy kissed me on the mouth. Then he sat on the bed and positioned me over his huge penis which was sticking right up in the air. He guided me until my hole was on top of his lubricated flesh-pole. "Lower yourself down onto me" My first rooting had been with Scott at the time of the hidings at the fire station. That had been both lusty and painful. Unlike Scott, Percy was determined to minimise my discomfit. I put my full weight on his penis and relaxed my sphincter. There was a plop! and he was inside my tunnel. After many minutes of inching my way down I felt his pubic hair brush against my bum-cheeks. My ring still hurt a little but I was overwhelmed with the sensation of his man-meat filling my boy-tube. Gently, Percy turned me until I was on my knees with him on top. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Yes!" I whispered. I had never been more 'ok' in my life. Slowly Percy began thrusting. When he felt me move in unison under him he picked up the tempo. Time stood still. Then the thrusting became more urgent and Percy groaned. I felt his wetness spray my bowels. His flesh-pole slowly subsided and then he pulled out of me. "You're the best root I ever had", Percy murmured as he gently cleaned my orifice with the wet flannel. He kissed me on the forehead. After that we did it nearly every week. Dear Percy was everything Scott was not: kind, patient, anxious not to hurt. Scott had slammed into my tiny virgin pucker, with hard, brutal thrusts, thinking only of his own selfish pleasure. Like any normal, healthy boy I got into mischief. One time I forgot to close the henhouse door and the chickens got out. There was a storm and six of the chicks were killed. Pa was furious. "I'll get The Stick, Pa", Scott said hopefully. "No", his father replied, "But the boy needs a spanking". He pulled my pants off and carefully peeled ny undies down, baring my bottom. Then he put me over his knee and smacked my bum hard with his big hand. Scott watched me get every swat. Percy left the room. The spanking really hurt and before long I was bawling. "Are you sorry about the chickens?" "Y-yes, Pa! I'm sorry! Ow!" The spanking ended. "You're backside looks like two ripe tomatoes", Pa said as I pulled up my clothes. "Next time it'll be The Belt". Scott smirked at the prospect. After I'd recovered I went outside. Percy was busy moving the henhouse door latch down lower so I could reach it more easily. "Are you ok?" he asked, looking anxious. "Yeah. It was just a spanking". A few weeks later I came down with a bladder infection. Pa took me to see the doctor. He was a big, gruff man. I had to take off my shorts and undies and lie on my side. "I'm just putting my finger up your back passage" the doctor said. There was a 'back passage' at Pa's house but that's not where the doctor meant. His digit penetrated my anus with an ease he had not expected to find in a 12 year old boy. The finger poked around and touched my prostate. "I got to do wees", I said urgently. The finger was withdrawn. "You can get dressed". The doctor told Pa I had a bladder infection and gave him sulphur tablets for me. "There's no easy way to say this. From my examination it's plain the boy has been interferred with. I am required by law to notify the Police". When we got home, the twins had been called out by the fire brigade. Pa asked me who'd done it but I just shook my head. An hour or so later P.C. Thompson arrived looking very stern. He questioned me a length but I remained silent. He helped me pack a few things and took me the Boys' Home. There were fifty lads at The Lodge. Most were orphans like myself. The place was run by Mr Matheson and his wife. He was a former army man and ran the place with military precision. That first night in the big dorm I cried myself to sleep, thinking sbout my parents and Percy. It was the school holidays and the staff tried to keep us amused. Unfortunately it rained that first week which meant we were all cooped up indoors and soon got bored. An older lad and I were having a game of Chinese Checkers. Amos accused me of cheating so I gave him a shove. The duty attendant was Mr Quinn, a big man in his early thirties. Effortlessly he lifted Amos and I by the scruff of the neck and took us into the staff room. "Boys lucky enough to stay at The Lodge are expected to behave themselves or face the consequences", he said, santimoniously. He opened a desk drawer and produced a long, thick strap. I gulped and held out my hand like boys did at school. "No lad", the big attendant said. "I'd better attend to young Master Amos first so you can see the way we do things here". Amos shrugged. He unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to the ground. His shorts soon followed. I caught a glimpse of his willie and its bush of pubic hair as he turned and lay over a stool. The attendant leathered Amos' firm, taut buttocks with six hard licks. Broad red bands crisscrossed the boy's pink flesh. When he was allowed up again, Amos' face was quite unmoved. He pulled up his clothes and was dismissed by Mr Quinn. The attendant watched while I bared my bottom and placed myself over that stool. It's padded top stiil retained the warmth from Amos' body. Six times that heavy leather struck my small globes. I gasped at the fiery hurt being inflicted, to teach me a lesson. When I was allowed up I got dressed and tried not to show the attendant how much he had hurt me. Amos was waiting for me outside. As a result of the shared ordeal of the strappings we became the best of friends. P.C. Thompson came to The Lodge several times to question me about being 'sodomised' as he called it. I remained silent so a special sitting of the Youth Court was convened. Mr Matheson of The Lodge took me to the small courthouse. The stipendary magistrate dealt with the drunks and then cleared the court. I was brought in and had to stand in the dock. Apart from P.C. Thompson the only other person present was a male stenographer. The magistrate read through the doctor's report. The police officer gave evidence. "Do you have anything to say?" the magistrate asked me. "No, Sir". "Very well. You have allowed a gross indecency to your person. Silence, and your refusal to name the perpertuator, can only mean you are in collusion with him". He looked very stern. I shuffled my feet. "The usual sentence for allowing unlawful carnal knowledge would be imprisonment in an Approved School for an indefinite period. However, given the tragic loss of your parents I am inclined to show you leniency. You will receive the lesser penalty prescribed by law, a whipping to be carried out within the precincts of the court. Eight strokes". The magistrate rose. The stenographer stared in my direction and P.C. Thompson escorted me to a cell to await my fate. A drunk in the next cell was singing 'Show Me the Way to go Home'. In those days, police officers in rural districts were assisted by unsworn, unpaid volunteers called 'specials'. P.C. Thompson enlisted the help of two men to 'subdue' a terrified young boy while he flogged him. I was taken back into the courtroom. The stenographer was present to act as an independent witness. My trousers and underpants were pulled down and the police officer's men held me over a table. Without warning, the cane struck my quivering bottom. A raw, red jolt of pain that made me yell at the top of my voice. There was a disruption while the tender-hearted stenographer vomited into a waste paper basket. After he'd recovered, seven more hard cuts were inflicted at 30 second intervals. The hurt was frightful and, in my misery, I spared a thought for dear Percy who was often caned by his father. Each cruel cut was far more painful than that entire strapping I'd received at The Lodge. Afterwards, I lay on that table, panting. Tears ran unchecked down my face. A hand applied iodine to my torn rump and I groaned at that unexpected hurt. Then I was allowed to get dressed, the men refused to look me in the eye. They had the grace to feel a bit ashamed of themselves. The white-faced stenographer signed the witness statement. I caught his eye and managed to wink at him. He relaxed a little and smiled back. Outside the courtroom Pa was waiting with the truck. He opened the door but I said I'd better stand up on the back. Scott sat beside his father. Percy, dressed in his Sunday suit, was on the tray of the truck and helped me up. He put his arm around my thin shoulders and held me tight. Despite my painfully throbbing backside I felt needed and loved. All was right again in my small world. (Fiction. Usual disclaimers apply).