tagGay MaleThe Farm Ch. 03

The Farm Ch. 03


Chapter Three, Education

The Prize thought of them as Brutal and Cruel. Once the laudanum wore off and he struggled awake, they came to teach him at all hours in the cell with the heavy lock. Brutal came first. He held a thick belt doubled over on itself. Before the Prize could move, he was struck across the back. "What's your name?" He was struck again and again. "Your name is Prize."

The belt came down again as the Prize tried to squirm into a corner, dragging his heavy chain with him. This time the blow landed on his naked back. "What's your name?" The blows and question continued until the Prize knew his name was Prize. Halden smiled. "Yes, your name is Prize." And he left. The Prize curled in the dirty straw and watched the light on the other side of the bars fade.

Prize tried to control his sobs. He closed his eyes. His back throbbed. He slept. Bolts of light shot across his eyes as he was dragged from his sleep by Cruel pulling him to his feet by his hair.

"Don't pull back. Show me your body, Prize."

The Prize tried to grip the dirt floor with his toes. Cruel kicked his legs apart. He lifted his chin. Arms manacled and chained before him. March ran his thumb over the flat nipples. The Prize recoiled and received an open-handed smack.

"This is not yours. You present yourself as told."

The Prize shuddered as he fought to maintain his stance. March pinched the Prize's right nipple cruelly between the cracked nails of his thumb and index finger. The Prize tried to pull away. His lip split with the next slap.

"Stand for my pleasure." The Prize stood as March's hand moved down his stomach. It paused at his navel and the fingers slowly circled. March reached back and ran his fingers over the firm cheeks of Prize's buttocks.

"Turn and push that ass out."

He resisted and received a punch in the stomach. The Prize collapsed forward and arched his back and pushed out. Tears slid down his cheeks. A finger traced his crack. His buttocks were pulled apart and a finger touched his anus. Prize gasped, his knees buckled. He was dragged back to his feet and March grabbed the heavy chain and looped it over a high hook, pulling Prize's arms over his head.

"Hang or stand. It's all the same for me." March gave Prize's buttocks a series of sharp smacks with the flat of his hand. Prize twisted on the chain. He turned him. He grabbed a fist-full of muscle then placed his hands on the reddened buttocks and wrenched them apart. He ran his fingers down the stretched skin and scratched at the puckered hole with his nail. He left Prize standing in the cold gasping in pain and vulnerability.

He stood shivering and slowly his legs buckled. He hung there until he lost the feeling in his hands. He pulled his legs back under himself to relieve the strain and when the blood flow returned to his hands, it brought pain. He tried to pull his hands through the manacles until the skin broke on the iron. Even slick with blood, Prize was unable to pull free. His legs cramped. His back ached. His body slipped forward in a half sleep. He woke to numb hands and pain.

Halden returned with the belt. He removed the chain from the hook and Prize fell to the floor. He felt relief and gratitude. Halden pulled back the folded belt. Before he could swing, Prize quickly stuttered out his name. Halden nodded.

"Where are you from, Prize?" There was no reply. The belt cracked on his lower back. "You were born in a whore house. Your mother had you cut for the pleasure of others."

Halden lifted the cut penis. The Prize shook his head and received half a dozen strokes of the belt. He learned his history. He learned his purpose. He learned to let Brutal handle him. He learned to let Cruel stroke his body and touch his anus though each touch there left him feeling hollow and sick to his stomach.

He learned his worth. He learned to stand and present his body for blows or examination. He was rewarded by the lengthening of the chain. He could kneel on the floor and sleep propped against the wall. He ate from a bowl held to his lips. He was washed with cold water every few days. He squatted for the enemas. He spread for hair removal. He sent scalding tears coursing down his cheeks. He shivered in the damp and the cold. He cursed his mother for selling him into this life. He held on to the handkerchief and remembered the man who told him to stay alive. He waited for him to return.

Prize received his reward with a longer chain. His wristed were secured behind his back, but he could lie on the dirty straw to sleep. His food and water were placed on the floor for him to eat. He learned to count the passing of time from the changing sounds of Mrs. Featherwink's house. Laughter and music, times of silence. March pinched and stroked him as he ate. He learned to wake at the sound of the key in the lock. To make himself ready for dirty hands and hard smacks. Lie on your back. Put your ass in the air. Spread your legs. Your mother sold you to this. You are Prize. You're worth is in the pleasure you give. Prize, kiss me. He was cold. He was hungry. He wanted sleep. He wanted his hands and arms back. Most of all he wanted to keep the belt and hands away.

He was awake the second the key snicked in the lock. He closed his eyes to the light. He scrambled to his feet and waited for Halden or March to tell him what to do. A soft voice called him to the circle of light. He saw a pink-striped skirt and a small shoe of kid.

"Come to me, Prize. Don't be afraid." Miss Liz settled herself on a low stool and Prize crouched before her waiting for a slap, his next examination. Miss Liz set her legs wide, the skirt dipping between her thighs. "Kneel here." She indicated a spot on the straw between her knees. "You are beautiful." She smiled. She positioned him so his right shoulder was turned to her and gently pushed him so his back and bound arms rested against her inner thigh. It was warm and soft. She tilted his head back, supporting his neck with a small hand. "I will kiss you." She pressed her lips against his. "Keep your lips soft." And kissed again. "Softer." She stroked her thumb across his lips. "Now part your lips and relax your jaw, my beauty."

Her tongue touched the healing split in his lip sending stabs of pain. He let her explore his mouth. Her fingers stroked his cheek. He opened to her grateful for her soft touch. He pushed back with his tongue and received her soft admonishment as she drew away. "You don't push. You accept my gift. This time you may suck my tongue."

Her slick muscle entered his mouth and Prize closed his lips and gently sucked her tongue. Her hand cupped his pectoral muscle and she flicked his nipple. He let her fill him as he relaxed against her warm leg. Her hand drifted lower to caress his stomach muscles. She probed his navel. He nursed on her mouth. His penis rose and brushed her striped skirt. He shuddered. She laid him on the straw and viewed his need and resignation as he looked up at her. She left him there in a new agony to thrust against the dirty straw, an armless thing.

The time came when the house above was long quiet when all three of Prize's teachers entered the cell. Prize grew cold with dread and stammered out his story. He stood and exposed his body for examination. Miss Liz knelt on the straw before him and kissed his thigh. Halden and March held him in a standing position as Liz gently massaged his balls. She ran her tongue along the underside of his penis and pulled the head into her hot mouth. She withdrew from him.

"Remember what I did with my tongue?"

Prize stared in confusion. Liz again ran her tongue along the silky underside of his penis and gave the tip a little flick.

"Do you remember what I did?" Prize was forced to his knees and March moved next to Miss Liz. She opened his trousers and kissed his thigh. She ran her tongue up March's shaft. "Now you do it."

Prize resisted. March smacked his face. Prize tried to escape. Halden held him in place by the arms. Prize showed his teeth and March and Halden inserted leather-covered blocks in his mouth so he could not bite down. His jaw was held open. Leather straps buckled behind his head. March forced his penis into Prize's mouth. It tasted of dirt and urine.

And the three of them taught Prize to lick and suck as he was licked and sucked. Miss Liz guided him, demonstrated each move on March. Helped Prize mirror her movements. Each failure to master a tongue flick was followed by Halden's heavy strap sending ribbons of fire along Prize's back or chest. He learned to send March over the edge. He learned to tease. He learned to swallow his cum. He learned to keep his mouth soft. In time the blocks were removed.

Prize suffered Halden's beatings and March's humiliations. He repeated his life story in the whorehouse where his mother sold him. He learned his lessons from Miss Liz. How to lick and suck. When to use his teeth. How to open to pain and pleasure. How to be left wanting and incomplete. How to please without being pleased. How to relieve his pain by giving pleasure.

Mrs. Featherwink walked with a lighter step. She exuded calm. She fell asleep early each morning counting money in her mind. Her future was secure.

During a quiet time upstairs as the whores and extraspecials moved alone to their beds, March entered the cell. Prize struggled to his feet to accept Cruel's instructions. He was told to kneel. Cruel shoved Prize's chest to the cold floor and told him to push his ass in the air. He grabbed the manacled hands and pulled back and up. He kicked Prize's legs apart and positioned his legs between them, holding them spread. Prize panicked and struggled. Cruel pulled back harder on the manacles. Prize felt a cold hand on his buttocks. His crease was stroked. A finger played with his anus. It pushed at the clenched ring. Prize gasped and struggled harder. He tried to fall to his belly and drop his ass. The finger withdrew. Pants opened. Cruel ran his engorged penis down the soft skin between Prize's cheeks. He spit and pushed at the anus. He spit again. Prize screamed and bucked. He only succeeded in pushing himself against Cruel.

The cell door bounced off the wall as Brutal entered. He kicked March in the side. He pulled him from Prize. He shouted and smashed his boot into March in the face. The strap fell as he was dragged out the door. March never entered the cell alone again. Prize never practiced Miss Liz's lessons on March again. Brutal took his place.

But March wasn't gone. During the quiet hours he positioned himself at the cell door and talked to Prize. He told him what he wanted to do to him. What he would do to him. He told him where he was going. He told him a rich man would buy him, and when he tired, he'd sell him. And when the next man was done with him, he would be sold again. In time he there would be a whore house and many men. After that, when he was no longer young enough or pretty enough, the Turtle waited. He told him of being tied to a fuck bench. Of the return of the wooden mouth blocks or removal of his teeth. He told him about bottles, whip handles, iron rods, devices with bulbous heads. He told him how he planned to take him. He told him how he planned to shove his fist up Prize's ass. He told him how patrons would bet on how long it would take him to cum. He talked of blood and animals. He said all this in the lisp he developed after Halden kicked out three of his teeth. He talked until Prize sobbed. He talked until Prize's mind went white with fear. And Prize turned his face to the rough stone wall, dropped the handkerchief, and prayed for death.

* * *

Halden gave him a beating like none before. Prize gasped out his lessons. He pleaded his history and still the belt descended on his back and legs. He cursed his mother. He begged Halden to let him please him. Prize crawled to meet the blows hoping to do the one thing that would appease Halden. He presented his ass. He lay supine and lifted and spread his legs. The belt licked at his inner thighs. He pushed his ass up to meet the belt. Anything to find the right thing to make it stop. His hands were freed. He wrapped his arms around Halden's upper legs and pressed his cheek against his crotch. And the belt fell on his back. He pushed out his buttocks and the belt continued to fall. He pushed his lips to the rising bulge in the trousers and the beating continued. He was pulled back by the hair. A collar of thick leather clicked tightly around his neck.

"Your auction number." Halden let an iron disk fall on Prize's neck.

A warm enema bag was pushed into his hands. He fumbled to insert the nozzle. He cleaned himself as Halden watched, tapping the belt in his hand. He met his eyes. He parted his lips and opened his mouth as Miss Liz had taught him to entice Halden. The warm water filled him. He expelled it on the floor and filled himself again. Halden smiled. He ran his middle finger along the inside of Prize's lower lip. Prize maneuvered it into his mouth and sucked. It tasted of grease and dirt. Halden handed him a second bag. Prize smelled lemons. He spread his cheeks with trembling fingers. He fingered his own asshole to help relax the sphincter. He cleaned his rectum twice more. A tub was brought into the room. He stood and let Halden wash him with a rough cloth. He spread his legs. His penis and balls were soaped. The strokes were practiced and firm. The picture of a fine horse being washed by grooms in the stable yard flashed in his mind. He stepped shivering from the tub and stood as Halden rained blows on his chest.

He was left dazed on clean straw. He was not fed.

In the early morning quiet, light from a bull's-eye lantern caused him to recoil. He began his litany and a hand was clamped across his mouth. He put up a protective arm. A blanket was draped over his bruised shoulders. He was pushed to the door. He recoiled at the threshold and was half dragged half carried into the corridor. Up cold steps. Another door opened. Chill early morning air. An open carriage door. Had he looked up, Prize would have glimpsed Halden swathed in a great cloak, sitting in the coachman's seat.

He fell to the floor. He saw good boots and trousers made of fine cloth. The door shut and the horses made the carriage jump as they clattered down the alley. He waited on the floor his legs pulled to his chest.

"You are rescued," came a well modulated voice from the darkness above. A blanket was adjusted to cover him.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous12/30/17

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I'm totally caught up with Prize and his training. At times the story seems a bit rushed, but with all the cruelty going on, I can understand the montage-like approach. However, a break from the continuedmore...

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