Tool-Shed Memoires
By: Dick Eberhard & ben tover
(© 2007 by the authors)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

Sandy went into what seemed like an epileptic fit, as his body followed Flemming's lead and he was again transformed into Mount St. Helens, as it erupted into a cosmic-blast, spewing its ash and lava up into outer-space.

Sandy had never felt as much relief as he then felt, both blowing another huge load and feeling Flemming letting go, finally, of his tortured cock.

Chapter 3
Cuffs, Chinese Mustard And Pins

Sandy awoke as usual, with the ringing of the triangle, at dawn the next day. After breakfast, his father, not having any knowledge of the prior evening's events, but very mindful of the tough spanking he'd endured the day before, assigned him with the crew mending fences.

"Josh, didja hear that the old Man was out in the tool-shed late last night? It's been quite awhile since the last time ... ya remember when Billy Deacons left so sudden-like a few months ago?" asked Mark Davis, a ranch-hand of three seasons here at Flemming's place, speaking to Josh James, a recent hire, as they worked on getting the barbed-wire fence repaired.

Sandy, hoping the others would not notice he was blushing, said, “Well, I can attest to the fact that Flemming sure knows how to use a paddle ... but you guys'll have to tell me what he does in there after midnight ...”

The two more experienced hands looked at each other, long and hard, and then Mark nodded to Josh, as if giving him permission, and Josh said, "You bein' the ranch manager's son and all, I kinda figgered you already knew all there was to know about old Flemming's li'l secret, boy. You tellin' us you don't know? Kinda hard ta believe, y'ask me ..." and he spat in disbelief to the side of Sandy's boots, just missing them.

Sandy ignored the obvious insult, and instead, suddenly became distracted, conscious of his ass-cheeks, and the soreness that was still there. 'Thank God, Dad didn't give me a job where I'd have to mount up and ride out onto the range,' he thought to himself. Then he remembered his cock and balls, and felt a tingling in them, as he remembered how Flemming had abused him. He wondered when the old Man might invite him to another session. Flemming had really gotten under the boy's skin, alright.

Mark interrupted his thoughts just then, sneering at the boy, and said, "We'll 'have to', boy? Sounds ta me like you think you're just somethin' ... but here with us, you're just another tenderfoot waitin' ta get broke in! We both know who yer daddy is, boy, and it don't make no never-mind ta either of us!" and he spat another tobacco-brown wad of spit at the boy's boots, this time hitting them.

Sandy wiped the spit off his boot by rubbing it on Mark's pant-leg while staring the cowboy directly in the eyes and said, "You seem to need some target practice. Apparently, you don't know who my father is, or how tight Flemming and I are!”

Like the strike of a cobra, Mark let the boy have a punch to his jaw that rattled his brain and almost knocked him to the dusty ground ... but Sandy, inexperienced though he was in the Manly art of fisticuffs, came right back with a hard shot under Mark's jaw, making the man bite his tongue, which upped the ante in the sudden brouhaha.

Sandy then grabbed Mark's balls through his jeans and had the older and stronger Man gasping for breath. "You have something you wanna say to me, BOY?" Sandy asked, having overcome much of the fear that had plagued him until yesterday's whupping.

Josh started to step forward to give Mark a hand, but Sandy squeezed harder on his balls, and Mark yelped out, “Leave it be, Josh! Kid's got spine enough ta stand up fer 'imself ... jist let it be. Sorry, kid ... just testin' ya's all,” and he grimaced in pain from Sandy's rough treatment of his package.

 Sandy gave one last, good squeeze, to let Mark know his position in the pecking-order. Releasing Mark's cock and balls, he took a step toward Josh, who quickly covered his own crotch with his hands. "Its cool ... just relax! Come on, guys ... we need to work together, or we're gonna be under this hot damn sun all day!" said Josh, appeasingly, and now somewhat fearful of the younger cowboy.

Sandy stared a minute longer at Mark, who finally just nodded and looked down, his defeat plain to see, and Sandy felt like he was riding on a cloud, still not sure how he'd managed to out-do the older ranch-hands the way he had. Grabbing a roll of wire, he said, “So ... one of you fellas gonna tell me about that tool-shed, or what?”

"All I know is there's some kind of trap-door in the floor, but there must be some hidden mechanism to open it. I tried to check it out once, but couldn't get the damn thing to open," said Mark.

"Some time back aways, there was a young fella working here. We all turned in after a game of poker, but the next morning, when we got up, he just cleared his things out, cursed the tool-shed, and didn't say why ... he just up and left," said Josh.

Sandy was armed with personal knowledge he couldn't expose ... not yet, anyway ... and needed to know more about that cellar under the tool-shed, so he carefully asked Josh, "You ever been inside the place, Josh?" and looked away so he wouldn't have to see Josh's embarrassed expression (if his guess was right).

"Maybe," Josh answered quietly, and also looked away.

'I knew it!' Sandy thought triumphantly to himself, and he worked in silence for a while before saying, in a lower, more reassuring voice, “Tell me what happened, Josh ... it's real important, and I won't tell another soul, I swear. I'm guessing Mark already knows what happened to you ... maybe, with enough information, we can do something about the situation,” and he kept his gaze on his work to save Josh any humiliation.

"I can't talk about it ... but if you want me to show you, why don't you stop by my room late tonight?" Josh said, with a gleam in his eye, trying hard to redirect the conversation to something more ... pleasant.

Sandy fought the urge to smile (or laugh out loud, even), and looked Josh straight in he eyes, saying, “That'll be good, Josh, and I promise you, I will ... but right now, I need an answer from you, bud ... if my guess is right, there's a lot riding on your answer, so let's cut the bull and get to it! What the hell happened to you in that tool-shed?” and this time he didn't look away, forcing Josh to look down first, which he did, nodding his head in acceptance of the situation.

Just then, Flemming came riding up on his horse. "You girls getting anything done out here, or are you spending all your time blabbering sissy-stuff? Josh, you come over here!” Once Josh was very close to the owner, Flemming said to him, quietly, “Meet me in the tool-shed tonight, and make sure that Sandy comes with you. Ya hear?"    

"Yes, sir!" Josh replied.

As Flemming rode off, with a very satisfied look on his face, Sandy looked expectantly at Josh, waiting for an explanation, and hoping Josh would have the balls to speak up and clear the air, about the tool-shed and about what Flemming's little visit had been about. Mark was studiously avoiding eye-contact with either of them, focused entirely on the task at hand, as if deaf.

"Flemming wants to see both of us tonight in the tool-shed, so I guess you're gonna get all the answers you want tonight!" Josh said.

Mark looked up, and Sandy could swear he looked like he was about to shed a tear, which confirmed his other suspicion ... both these cowboys had been guests of Flemming's in the bowels of the tool-shed, and Mark was really worried about Josh right now, from the look of things, and maybe even a bit concerned about Sandy, himself. He took a chance and said, just a bit authoritatively, “C'mon, Mark ... speak up! It's clear you both know a lot about that place! I do too, dammit! I was the victim last night, just so's ya both know!” and this time it was Sandy's turn to look away in embarrassment. But neither man spoke up in response, apparently finding the work they were sharing to be far too absorbing to take time out for an explanation.

Later in the evening, Sandy found himself again lying awake in his bunk, anxiously awaiting his next session in Flemming's infamous tool-shed. His cock was already erect, as he anticipated being told what to do by the old Man, and watching him give orders to Josh.

He was surprised to look up to see his father standing in the doorway of his room ... naked, erect, and smiling ... and before he could react, his Dad spoke up, saying, "Son, there's a lot of things on this ranch that aren't quite right ... but a man can learn to accept and even like what happens. Ya see, Son, old man Flemming has video cameras in that dungeon of his, and, one by one, he's managed to get every man-Jack of us on film, doing things we'd rather never be made public. We're as good as his slaves, Son, and if you screw things up, we're all gonna hafta pay. You hear what I'm saying, Son?" and the older Man kept his even gaze at his son, waiting for an answer.

Butm before the stunned Sandy could answer, his father began moving ominously toward his bed, when suddenly, he was hit on the back of the head with a rolling pin, knocking him out and to the floor. "Oh, dear ... I am sorry son, but sometimes when your father gets to drinking, he does some strange stuff. Now, help me drag him back to our room, like the good dear that you are," said Sandy's petite mom.

Sandy, also naked, also erect, was basically overloaded by the last few minutes worth of events, and simply rose from his bed as he was, helping his mother carry and drag his dad back to the sanctity of his own bedroom, noting that his dad had NOT been drinking, and further noting that his mom had been lying to cover something up ... and this time he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was.

After helping his mom to cuff his jealous dad to his bed post, surely one of the strangest things he'd ever done in his young life, Sandy made his way back to his room, and grabbing his jeans and a tee shirt, left for the shed, this time through the front door. On his way over, he ran into Josh, and they continued on their way to the tool shed together in an excited and expectant silence.

As they passed a thick clump of lilac bushes, Mark stepped out and immediately raised his finger to his mouth to both reassure them and keep them quiet, then he said, “Kid, you were right as rain about the dungeon ... and we need to do something about it ... maybe tonight, and maybe not. But I'm sick of hiding behind the lies. Are we all in this together?” and he looked them both in the eyes, back and forth, waiting for agreement ... but only Josh nodded his approval of this plan.

"Look, I don't know what you've got in mind, but if Flemming wants me down there, that's just where I'm going to be. If you two have a problem with that, leave me out of it!" Sandy said.

Mark looked confused, and said, “You're the one who was stirring up the hornet's nest earlier today, pard ... now ya lost yer balls? You just wanna play Flemming's hateful games and leave it at that? What about the rest of us here on this God-forsaken ranch, huh? Ya thinkin' about that any? And yer Daddy?” and he stopped speaking, thinking he'd gone a step too far.

"Look, you two ... when I asked you about the tool-shed, you didn't want to tell me shit. All I know is, what I found there on my own was something great. So, if you don't mind, I'd like another little taste of what old Man Flemming has to offer.”

 "Okay, you three ... line up, and shut your traps!" Flemming said, scaring the shit out of Mark, as he stepped out of the darkness.

Sandy realized that the old Man had heard what he'd just said, about liking what went on in the dungeon, and he'd never in his life blushed as much as he blushed then, but he got in line with Mark and Josh, and together, they waited for the dungeon's Master to speak his peace.

However, he merely led them into the tool-shed, unlocked the trap-door with a clicker hidden in his pocket, and had the three go down before him. Once downstairs, he had them each strip off their clothes, and then handed a blind fold to Josh to put on Mark, and one for Sandy to put on Josh, and, finally, he put one on Sandy ... then opened the large metal door and led them to their fates.

All three were clearly excited, judging by their very hard and throbbing cocks, and they were eager to find out what special events Flemming had in mind for them this night ... he'd probably be really pissed off, seeing as he'd heard the three discussing mutiny, by the lilac bush, and that could be a very bad thing, indeed. They stood in darkness awaiting the next command from Flemming.

Flemming took a bottle of Chinese mustard and began painting it on Josh's and Mark's genitals, then quickly tied them face to face, and with their cuffed hands above their heads, hoisted them slightly off the floor. As soon as they began to gyrate, the friction of their dicks, one against the other, ignited the mustard, and the burning sensation began penetrating their sensitive skin. The more it burned, the more they gyrated ... and the more they gyrated, the more friction. Sandy stood blindfolded and naked, hearing the sounds and wondering to himself what Flemming had submitted them to, that was causing them to moan with such passion.

Flemming's attention stayed with the two suspended cowboys for a few moments, waiting for the fireworks, which were certain to come, but he then turned his eyes to the boy, and figured he'd been the instigator of the unrest he'd heard a bit about, earlier by the lilacs. “You wanna upset my apple-cart here on the ranch, do ya, boy? You think a punk kid like you has any chance of undoing years of my hard work here? Ha! You're fixin' ta learn better, boy!” and having said that, he grabbed the boy's cock and dragged him to the side of the room.

Mark had started the Scream of the Damned, and just as Flemming's heart began to soar from the melodious and lilting quality of it, Josh lost control and joined in, louder and much more desperate-sounding. Flemming thought to himself, 'It's good  ta be da King!' and grinned a huge grin.

"Sir, I only want you to use me and teach me. I would never betray you," Sandy said, to the disgust of the two dangling, twitching, and now screaming and wailing cowboys. Flemming played with Sandy's impressive cock until it was so hard that he could flick it down and then watch it spring back up, he turned the boy around and began to lubricate his back door.

“You're sure as hell gonna get a lot of hard use and deep massage here tonight, boy!” and he laughed a fairly evil laugh, thwacking the boy's cock one more time, for fun.

Sandy was feeling more excited than the last time, perhaps because he trusted Flemming to have a lot of fun without inflicting any actual damage on his body.

Just then Flemming surprised the young cowboy by clipping clothes-pins to his scrotum, thus giving him a constant pain that would distract him from the quick entry that he planned to execute with his en-condomed dick. He pushed the boy down on a divan with his ass up in the air and aimed his poker at Sandy's anal labia.

Sandy was so turned on at that moment, what with the clothes-pins and the by-now heart-rendingg and Manly screams of pain coming from the other two cowboys, who were otherwise distracted with their own problems, that, even though he knew that he was about to be plowed open, he was still eager for it, and didn't care about the pain ... he'd already learned from this Master of the Dungeon that the pain was just an appetizer before the main course of ecstasy.

Finally Flemming served the coup de gras and plunged deeply into the hungry plum-pudding of a butt-hole.

Of course, Sandy joined in with the other two cowboys, and the choir of three was truly inspiring to hear ... Flemming's cock was in rectal heaven as he devastated the boy's sphincters, long-dicking the boy, each time almost pulling all the way out, and then driving back in with as much force and speed as possible, giving the boy something to really scream about each time.

When Flemming flowed into Sandy's starving and greedy butt, the pain was so intense that he opened his mouth wide and extended his tongue to the extent that the casual observer might think that Flemming's cock was pushing his tongue right out of his body.

Sandy was surprised, on top of all else that was happening, to discover a cock resting upon his tongue ... he greedily licked at it, wanting it as he'd never wanted anything else in his life ... but he wondered who's cock it was, and, as if the cock could read his thoughts, it plunged down his throat suddenly, cutting off the boy's screams of both pain and pleasure.

Rammed at both ends, Sandy's cock exploded with such a violent orgasm that he he awoke suddenly, in his sweat drenched bunk and quickly looked over at his alarm clock and realized that he only had a few minutes to get over to the the tool-shed.

He wondered about the things he'd dreamed about and couldn't understand why he'd been so eager and excited seeing his father's hard cock ... it disturbed him a lot but his cock was unmistakably thrilled with the dream.

To be continued...

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Posted: 10/12/07