Tool-Shed Memoires

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Author's note: I submit this chapter in memory of ben tover, aka h.s., aka Hank Snow. We were working on the remaining parts of this story when he took ill. He was also doing the editing which is why there has been such a long delay in posting the rest of this story. Unfortunately, he never recovered. I was able to recover these remaining chapters and am attempting to edit them. I hope that you continue to enjoy his humor which borders on zany and his brilliance shown in his method to learn how to spell. If this chapter brings a smile to your face please consider lighting a candle
http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/candles.cfm?l=eng&gi=HankS in memory of Hank and say a little prayer that the Saints in Heaven are now enjoying the Hank Snow show and laughing the halos off!

"The best place to shield them will be back in jail, as jailers so that they can make sure the Sheriff of Knotted Ham and his merry cop pushers, are sure never to get out," said Flemming. "I´ll get on the phone right away to the Governor and have this approved in no time, or my name isn't Flemming, the photographer who has pictures of his ass screwing one of the pages when he was a state senator.

Sandy released his cock-licker and guided him over to Woody, who looked like he could use the services of a good knob-gobbler and wood-polisher, and said, “That's really a great idea ... although I'm not so sure the “prison guard” solution would be the best way to go ... I still think we ought to pursue the idea that these released cons would owe us at least a year or two of their lives, in servitude of some form or another ... any ideas on that?” and he looked around for some agreement.

Only two voices were in favor, the two ex convicts who knew that not only were the inmates severely abused, but the underling guards were also be susceptible to some major shit from their supervisors. Once the others saw that the ex-cons preferred sexual slavery to prison, the issue was settled. So, that question being buried alive, the tool-shed shaft-gang headed topside, to make the preparations for the up-coming rodeo, where they could not only fight for justice, but could also flaunt their grammatical skills.

[here, the sub-writer of this Dyad is sporting a red and painful hand-print across its face ... it shall never use 'oubliette' again without first donning a hockey mask, and is most grateful to its Dom-Writer for hastening to correct it.]

Sandy said to Woody, “Woodster, you're in charge of this con,” pointing to the more muscular or the two, “and I expect you to make sure he doesn't have a chance to feel lonely or empty while you're his Master and trainer. Mark and Josh, you two take the other one and the same applies to you both.”

A month later, the cons were now fully adapted to their new life style as the ranch sex slaves, and were sitting shacked in the back of one of the three Winnebagos that Flemming had rented to provide housing for all the crew during the weekend of the rodeo. The governor of the state had liked the idea so much that he included all the state prisons and invited all the county jails to participate.

Woody had stepped out of the Winnebago he'd driven to the site, after righteously splitting open the fuck-chute of the more muscular of the two cons, a man they'd renamed 'Spike', who himself was now gasping for air after the lengthy and most thorough fucking he'd just received, administered so very carefully by his young and lusty Master, Woody.

In the Winnebago which Josh and Mark had driven, meanwhile, parked right next to Woody's, the other con, whom they'd renamed 'Kneeps', short for 'knee pads' since his knees were always sore, was still being power-fucked at both ends by the duo of Mark and Josh, with Josh manning the bow and Mark seeing to the aft-section, and the climax seemed to be nowhere in sight. Both Spike and Kneeps were wondering if they hadn't jumped from the frying pan of prison-life into the fire of sexual-slavery ... but it was way too late to worry about that, now.

Sandy, had given the two cons special training since they were to be working as the two clowns that would be protecting the contestants. This gave them the perfect excuse to wear disguises and would allow them to move among the crowd inconspicuously. There job was to ID the corrupt cops. Once the others knew who their targets were, they would be lured back to the first Winnebago by either Mark or Josh who would pretend to be seducing them. Once inside they would be given special beers that had been laced with enough drugs to knock out a bull elephant. The van which was hauling the horses had a special sound proof compartment installed where the new slaves could be transported uncomfortably but well hidden.

Spike had already let Sandy know of three prison-guards and two local cops who were on their 'hit-list', and the merry band was now looking for innocent cons to substitute for them. Kneeps had pointed out three sheriff's deputies to Mark, and as a reward was being allowed to give Mark a nice blow-job under the viewing stands. Josh was checking a list of known-innocent cons against the cons there in the stands, under the care of armed-guards, looking for matches they could rescue.

The rodeo turned out to be such a huge event, it was held in the sports stadium of the State Fair grounds. Security was high and there was regular counting of inmates each night, but during the day only the exits were tightly guarded. Once Josh knew who one of the targets were, he kept flirting with the guy at every opportunity. At one point the corrupt cop followed him into the john and Josh flashed him a quick peek of his pecker.

"If you like, we can go back to my Winnebago, and not have to worry about being interrupted."

He had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when another cop entered the washroom and gave them a dirty sneer. The cop followed eagerly after Josh.

Once they were in the Wienerbago and stripped down for a show of support for local law enforcement, the muscular Josh would serve him the special 'night-light-beer' waiting for him, and in a few seconds the horned-up and unaware cop would succumb to its narcotic effects, making it child's-play to get him properly restrained and gagged, and the Wienerbago set back up for the next conquest.

[It would be malfeasance on the part of this writer to leave out the fact that Josh, on several of these delightful occasions, 'sampled the wares', as it were, of the now-enslaved law-enforcement officers, as they groggily regained consciousness.]

Just as soon as Josh was sure the corrupt low enforcement officer was out cold, and not being able to get his dick to stand at attention, he signaled two of the range hands who came in, dressed him as a ranch hand, and helped him over to the horse trailer. Josh then left in pursuit of his next prey.

Meanwhile Mark ripped himself away from his sex games in order to hunt up his mark. It didn't take him too long to locate his man in uniform. Once he spied him, he moved up next to him and kept making admiring comments about the bodies of the inmate cowboys as they got bucked off their bronco ride and swatted the dust off their derrières. Mark's indirect remarks did not miss their target and soon Mark's cop was sizing him up.

The cop scratched his balls in a move calculated to look innocent, but which spoke volumes to the Gaydar of our hero, Mark, who nodded his head towards the Winnebago he'd be using for his own enslavement rituals. The cop was soon naked and eying Mark's handsome physique, and quaffing a special brew ... and then it was curtain-call time for the officer, as Mark gussied him up as a cowboy and got some of the ever-ready ranch-hands to haul his apparently drunken ass over to the horse trailer to join his comrades-in-slavery.

It didn't take the clown cons long to recognize one of their buddies and when they explained their plan, two of the would replacement guards,, agreed to meet in the john where they would be given guard uniforms in exchange for their prison fashions.

A few minutes later, Woody, having been given a heads-up by both Spike and Kneeps, was waiting in the john for the two cons, and quickly got them appropriately dressed as guards, but managed to get some groping in while doing so, which more-than-slightly alarmed the not-fully-clued-in cons. In minutes, they were outside again, nervously attempting to pass as the guards they'd learned to be so very fearful of while in stir.

They also explained to the two neo guards that they should come by and help load the corrupt cops that they are replacing on to the prison bus and once back at stir put them into solitary or train them quickly to be good prison bitches.

Spike had just noticed a trio of the meanest prison guards he and Kneeps had had to deal with, standing by the bleachers, smoking and, from the sound of their cruel laughter, thinking evil thoughts about some inmate or another. They had taken far too much pleasure from actively punking-out inmates of their own choosing, so that they'd have their own little harem of unwilling and uninterested cons providing their mouths and asses to the guards on demand ... which was very often. Both Spike and Kneeps had been victimized often by the three, and by the other four or five guards who were their best buddies. So, without wasting a moment, Spike alerted Mark, Josh and Woody to the three, and proceeded to look for the other guards in the group of sadists.

“Hey, guys ... don't tell anyone, but we have a keg over there in that first Winnebago, if you'd like to join us," said Chuck Wood. The three, believing themselves to be both invincible and above the prison rules and regulations, headed haughtily right over to the Winnebago. Once inside, they joined the apparent October-Fest, and were soon swinging their (plastic) steins and singing, but very quickly their song became a lullaby.

The three in charge gleefully stripped the guards out of their uniforms and into some ranch-hand garb, deliberately choosing items too small, to accentuate the truly impressive muscular prowess and sexual endowments of the three now-enslaved guards. When they were done, the three former guards looked more like street hustlers than professional law-enforcement officers ... which was the intention of the three men dressing them.

Meanwhile, Spike had found the others in the gang of sadistic guards, three of them loitering near the concession stands and the other two under the bleachers ... one giving a blow-job, clearly against his will, to the other, larger, guard.

While Josh was toasting his mark, Spike was staring into the eyes of a raging Brahma bull. Suddenly the horned animal charged heading straight for Spike who became paralyzed with fright.

Luckily for Spike, Kneeps was aware of the situation and quickly ran between Spike and the running bull which changed its course and took after Kneeps who ran faster than cheetah in pursuit of a spring buck, until he reached the fence. Finally Spike came out of the trance he was in and was able to run toward a barrel and jump inside just as the enraged bull hit it with his left horn.

Two more seduction bouts were all that were necessary to have the horse trailer full to capacity. All the prisoners were again totally naked and had their ankles chained to one another. Their hands were also cuffed, and all of them remained in a deep sleep in spite of the uncomfortable positions in which they were placed.

As soon as all the competitions were over and the awards given in each category, the Flemming gang was on the road heading back to their slave-ranch.

(During the previous six months, Sandy and Flemming have overseen the construction of a “maximum security oubliette” behind one of the large barns on the ranch, accessed by a trap door inside that barn. It was to this dungeon that the various and sundry former prison guards were taken upon their arrival at the ranch after the rodeo. The now-freed ex-cons, are semi-autonomous, in that they're basically ranch-hands themselves, but subject to following orders given to them by the real ranch-hands, Flemming and Sandy.)

The horse-van backed up into the barn and up to the trap-door, making for an easy transfer of the prison-guards, who were either still out cold or in a few cases, groggily awakening. The ranch-hands not otherwise needfully-employed elsewhere were all on hand to witness and assist in any way possible, all having been actively involved in the actual construction of the underground complex and feeling as if they each had a vested interest in its subsequent use and management, which was in fact true. They would be the de facto “oubliette-guards” over the former prison-guards, as they were brought forward into their sexual servitude, and would also act as personal instructors, physically teaching and guiding the slaves on their paths toward sex-slaves par excellence.

Josh, uncuffed and unshackled the first guard who seemed to be the youngest and most attractive of the lot. He practically had to carry him, hoisting one of the slaves arms over his own shoulder he sort of dragged him out of the van and then down into the first cell. He took advantage of his groggy state and examined his muscle tone and took measurements of his biceps, neck, arm length, waist, foot and inseam. He also examined his genitals carefully for lice and crabs and then turned him over to check for hemorrhoids or other abnormalities. Then he took the required stool sample, by moving what looked like an enormous sewing needle, eye first up his butt hole.

Squeezing the bulb-attachment to extract a sample, he then extracted the unit and squirted the sample out into a ready container. He then wiped down the slave's orifice, took a blood-sample and then left the cell, to return for another slave.

Josh now needed a semen sample and wondered if he should use a dildo to extract it, or wait until the young stud was more awake. He decided that forcing the ex-guard to masturbate himself would be more fun and opted for the latter option. He then withdrew from the cell leaving the neo-slave cuffed to his bunk and went over to the next cell to help Mark with his new student slave.

Mark had already taken the pesky stool offering, and was about to take the blood-sample when Josh stepped in, eager to check out yet another well-muscled example of prime beef. Mark said, “Didja get that first slave's sperm-sample?” to Josh, who simply shook his head in the negative, and added, “Waiting for him wake up ... gonna make him jack off for me!”, sounding like a happy little boy on Christmas morning.

“Well, I'd just as soon take this stud's wad without giving him any last thrill, before he begins his training. I suspect that will make him more eager to please me, in order to win the reinforcements that I have in mind. Help me roll him over and insert this speculum in his arse so I can locate his prostate more easily,” Mark said, with an air of leadership and authority, not to mention a seldom used British accent.

Josh was confused at Mark's reluctance to watch the slave cum for him, he said, “I guess that's okay ... but I was looking forward to making him cum for me against his will ... I didn't think about how cool it'd be, cheating him out of one last thrill like you said,” and once again, he felt himself admiring his best buddy for his totally cool ideas.

Once Mark found his way to the slave's prostate, he manipulated it until he achieved rather quickly the involuntary orgasm which flowed directly into the condom that Josh has put on their victim's cock. The slave moaned. Mark decided to leave the speculum in place until he awoke, but had Josh help me put on the plastic penis tube which due to it curved shape would keep the slave from being able to have an erection. Josh then returned to see if his own ward was ready to pump his piston.

Entering the first cell again, Josh saw that Slave Number One was almost out of his stupor, and when he saw Josh coming toward him, the predictable bluster and “Do you know who I am?” crap started to flow from his mouth, old habits of authority kicking in even at a most out-of-the-ordinary moment like this. Josh reached down and got a nice strangle-hold on the slave's balls and crushed them down enough to make the slave stop with the assertive act and start to accept the facts at hand ... namely, that he was nothing here and had best get that through his head quickly.

"Okay, Okay. you've got me. What do you want?" the arrogant young ex-guard asked.

"Shut up and remain silent. Your only role now is to listen and to obey or suffer the consequences of your disobedience." Josh said forcefully. "I need a sample of your sperm and now. You have your choice, to get down on your knees and wack off your cock, for what might me your last orgasm for some time, or I will have to take your cum by means of a speculum like we just did to your fellow slave in the next cell. Don't answer me, just get down on your knees and be quick about it or I will go for the cow prod."

Josh then placed his index finger on the humbled guards lower lip and pushed it down and rubbed his finger on his pearly teeth. He then pushed down on the man's reluctant jaw so that his mouth opened. He used his thumb inside the officer's mouth in such a way that he was clearly declaring ownership. Once there was no resistance in the former guards mouth, Josh used his index finger to explore his oral cavity while his unwilling manservant pumped his cock.

Josh was surprised when he came so quickly and he took the slave's sperm-sample and capped it, then put a plastic penis-tube on him, to prevent the horror of the slave actually having access to his own cock while in his cell alone, something which simply could not be permitted. Then he rose and turned to leave the cell, certain that the slave would forget the rule of silence and ask him a question. He was not disappointed, but he was very surprised at the way the slave broke the rule ... he said, “Thank you, Sir,” and remained in slave display, kneeling, eyes looking at the floor, the very model of a perfect slave-in-training. Josh was proud as could be, thinking that the slave had accepted his new station in life, but remembered the “tough as nails” attitude he'd promised himself he'd maintain, and immediately after telling the slave, “You're welcome, slave” ... he zapped him lightly, for good measure.

Dear Readers: Please cut and paste and send to the authors,

so that they may better serve you all in the future!

( ) I enjoy the deep philosophical underpinnings of this parable.

( ) I was moved by the metaphysical analogy between Flemming representing the status quo of a complacent government and the growing unity of third-world nations in their global concern over the warming of the planet.

( ) Forget the political critique and get back to the pure sex for which you are both are famous. Love your other stories on Nifty.

( ) I prefer to read more about cowboys out on the range where the buffalo roam.

( ) I can't answer this poll because my hands are covered with Vaseline and I don't want to mess up the keyboard.