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!

Sandy was very reluctant to let go of Paul's balls ... but, he did, and promptly delivered five seriously uncalled-for backhand-blows to the slave's balls when Butch was all the way down his throat, getting a very visible and delightful reaction from both slaves, and then he said to Butch, “Go ahead, slave ... but make it good! You just saw how much fun I have with slave-balls!” and Butch nodded, saying “Yes, Master! Looks like Master really likes smackin' nuts, Master!” and he grinned inappropriately at Sandy, who grinned back, nonetheless.

Meanwhile back at the ranch house, Flemming was enjoying the "Nutcracker Suite," which was showing on the educational station (please make a donation to your local station).

James, the cook/doctor/sexual-maniac inserted his engorged prick deep down into Dark's dimmly lit mine shaft saying, "is this how Sandy did it?"

"Not exactly, we didn't do anything like this until after the snake bit him and I had to suck out the poison."

James, fully embedded in the shadow, looked over at the author and the reader, and thought, "should I ask him?"

Sandy smacked Paul's ass hard enough to raise a hand-shaped welt and said, “Turn around and face the music, slave! You're about ta get a real treat here, and I want ol' Butch here ta make sure it's a treat you never forget! I better see you pushing back to please him and his big ol' cock, too, boy!” and with this he again laid down a hand-shaped welt, on the other cheek, and Paul pivoted again with a yelp of pain to accept the stump-breaking he was about to receive.

James thought better of asking. "This treatment should have you as good as new in no time."

"You sure doc? I don't want to be passin no biblical curse on to anyone. So tell me James, where did you study cooking and get a minor in medicine?" Dark said as he began to smile, having played along with James in order to get him into his rump. Now feeling James working on his special gland was having the most delightful effect on his nervous system. "does this medical facility accept a dinners club credit card?"

Other wheres, Sandy watched with jaded (and more than just slightly sadistic) eyes as Butch lined his spit-moistened monster-tool up with poor li'l Paul's tragically unstretched fuck-hole, looked at Sandy, with a big, handsome, conspiratorial grin, for a nod he knew he'd receive, and upon getting a return grin and nod back, SHLOOP!

Sandy actually gasped, it was such a magnificent sight ... Butch so adeptly thrust the entirety of his progeny-maker up into Paul's unwilling and unready cock-chute, that even Paul was silent for a moment (just a moment) while he waited for the Western Union of his nervous system to notify his brain that there was a guest in attendance up his ass ... when without any further delay, he began a scream heartwarming enough to bring Lassie home from across a continent. Butch and Sandy were incapable of not smiling at each other, and when Butch had the non-slave-compatible effrontery to offer Sandy a high-five, Sandy gave him one ... and then reached down to begin what was to be a long and delightful play-date with Paul's balls while Butch proceeded to gift him with a fucking of galactic proportions.... literally.

James continued to travel in his gondola up Dark's canal winding his way as he snaked through the the dimly lit passageway. Suddenly James realized that while he thought that he was seducing this dark handsome shadow of a cowboy, it was in fact the very astute man that had just entrapped his poindexter in his poop shoot.

Paul, in Oubliette Suite 132, was clearly reveling in the attentions being lavished upon him there in the concrete-floored cell ... his screams could only be interpreted as incoherent thanks being given both to his slave-lover and to his new Master, for all they were doing to make him feel so alive. Butch was really letting him have it, long-dicking that rose-bud good ... all the way in hard, all the way out fast, and back again ... and the swollen head of Butch's cock got no easier for Paul to handle, no matter how many times it was rammed in. Even the torment being delivered by Sandy to his balls wasn't enough to make this deflowering a pleasurable experience for Paul, and the tears flowed down his cheeks as freely as the screams flowed out of his gaping maw.

James back in the main kitchen of the Ranch House on State route 132, wanted to withdraw the deposit he had being making in Shadow's, night depository, but found that his will power was not strong enough to counterbalance the inward sucking action of the vacuum that had been created by his penetration of his peter principle. Dark's sphincter muscles had clamped tightly around his throbbing penis and his forward and backward body thrusts where making a quick vanilla milk shake of his hot sex cream.

Sandy decided to ring for one of the ranch hands, and when Woody arrived, eyes agog at the tableau before him, Sandy said to him quietly, so the slaves couldn't hear, “Get me two dildo-butt-plugs, one size larger than this slave's cock,” and he indicated Butch's leviathan ass-splitter, “and hurry back with them, Woodcock!” grinning at Woody, who by now realized that his name was to ever be the object of endless alteration. Woody smiled and blazed down the hall, to return in a trice with the requested treats.

Sandy told him to come in and watch, but not to do anything without his express permission, and Woody gleefully agreed to this with a nod and a grin.

The two began a mean tug of war using James' hot rod as their rope. Each was vying to gain control of the sexual encounter taking place on James' food preparation table which gave him the advantage of home court. Dark Shadow on the other hand had a tight grip on James' Oscar Myer Wiener. Back and forth they challenged each other. Pulling and pushing against one another like two male deer in a locked horns fight to the finish. Then James remembered that he had one other vantage and that was that he could reach around and grab Dark's Rocky Mountain oysters and make a stew of them.

What he failed to remember was that the Shadow could also reach through his own legs all the way back to James' monster godzillas and squeeze them until James sounded like Tiny Tim singing, "Tip toe through the tulips."

Dark Shadow was turning the color of Grey Poupon as James scrambled his eggs. Not to be out down by a mere ranch hand cook, Dark squeezed harder on James' testicles trying to transform them into nutmeg powder. But James was no mere cattle drive chuck wagon cook, he was a certified French chef (olé) who proved he could cut the mustard, grin and bear it as he hammered Shadow' s ass until his pork became tenderloin. (Truly Deep-worthy prose! Bravo! Kudos! Encore! This sub-writer shudders at the thought of what it might have read like if the Dom-Writer had, instead of a culinary shtick, been using auto-mechanic jargon, or Hell's Angels' argot! GOOD-ness!!! :)

The now-in-hell Butch was still fucking his sometime-lover, Paul, but since Woody had added the element of torture to his game of in-and-out, it was a lot harder to do the job ... Paul, of course, had been receiving this gift from Sandy all along ... but Woody, ... well, Woody was much more retribution-oriented than Sandy, and believed in the old adage, “Spare the Nut-Torture and Spoil the Felonious Law-Enforcement Officer!” Add to this the undeniable presence of a mammoth dildo-butt-plug up his alimentary-canal's rear portal, and you have a four-star recipe for 'Bad-Boy en Anguish, avec Whimpers'.

Sandy was keeping his eye peeled for any sign that Woody was about to do anything unsafe with Butch, and 'So far, so good!', as the fish-mongers in the large open-air marketplace in Tiranë, Albania were wont to say ... a thought which James might, accidentally, receive telepathically and translate into a tasty seafood-dish for Dark Shadow's next meal, to which we return...

Neither would surrender, neither would cede their authority to the other and they both continued to vie for the dominant role. James continued with the advantage of having his sausage sandwiched between Dark's hairy ass buns. Shadow had the advantage of the anal lock he held on James' fertile baby maker.

"Lets call a truce ... I'll fuck your ass and bring you to the most intense orgasm of your cowboy life, and you'll allow me to move freely in and out of your southern border ... ?” James suggested tentatively as he planned to bush-whack his prey.

Butch was suddenly not feeling like Sandy's co-conspirator in the cherry-popping of his slave-buddy, Paul ... and he certainly didn't think that he and Woody were destined to become drinking buds soon, either ... this was the first time he'd ever tried to fuck while being tortured, and on a scale of one to ten, he'd have to give it a zero ... 'Sex should NOT be like this!' he thought to himself, impotent to alter what was happening in any way. Paul's opinion ... in anything ... had not been requested ... by anyone ... but had it been, he would simply have started crying in frustration, despair and more pain than he had ever dreamed he could handle ... but, thankfully, no one was asking, and no one present truly cared ... Paul was learning that life's choices bring consequences, virus or not.

Dark Shadow knowing he was wanning as the light was intensifying understood the good recipe for conflict resolution that James was offering him. He began to relax his sphincter muscles in order to allow James to resume what had become coitus interruptus. At last, with the relaxing of his southern border guard, James could continue his culinary import/export business and began to fill Dark's warehouse until it was stuffed to the gills, reminding himself to add a nice fresh river trout to his menu.

"Would you like crushed nuts on top, I do believe that we have more than enough in stock!" James offered as a token of good will. “Or perhaps a freshly picked cherry?”

Sandy had realized, though certainly not consciously, that having received the news of their infections had driven the two new slaves into a sudden depression, and that immediate 'stress relief' was needed to redirect them from self-negating thoughts ... they needed to see that Sandy, and therefore others, could still see them as sexual objects, and not necessarily as objects of scorn for having the virus in their systems. But, balancing that consideration with the severe punishment these two had earned ... for their corruption on the job and their extreme cruelty to innocent men ... was like walking a tight-wire, although, Sandy seemed to have an intuitive knack for these things, quite uncommon in one of his relatively sheltered youth. He was satisfied, for now, that things were proceeding well in Oubliette Cell 132 ... and he'd have to take Woody into his confidence quite soon, he also realized, as he'd come to trust the hunky ranch hand at a much deeper level than he'd previously thought.

Flemming downed his iced-tea faster than James and DS could pick up their pants. Unfortunately, neither was free to accompany the sexagenarian on his latest excursion into the oubliette. So Flemming, disgusted by their self-satisfied smiles, went out the kitchen door and called to the first ranch-hand he happened to see. There, just in from checking the fences, came Jess Immerser. "You there ... cowboy Jeez Mercy ... come with me, and help me get one of those gol-derned fag prison-guards into his new role as inmate!"

"Just do as I say ... without question. It's really import that these well-seasoned prison-rats see us united in our goal of breaking them."

"Yes ... we need to take away their will-power, so they'll obey me unquestioningly ... unlike yourself!" Flemming said, exasperated.

Sandy and Woody had just completed the delivery of ten well-laid stripes to the back portions of the two slaves, and were just about to set them up for Paul to begin his fucking-assault on Butch's still virgin-to-cock ass, when Flemming was heard, wildly ejaculating and gesticulating, as if he were the Cock-of-the-Rock there in the oubliette.

'That reminds me,' thought Flemming, 'it's been a while since James served us Coq au Vin ... I'll remind him later to put that on his menu.' Flemming then walked down the center-isle, inspecting the prospective broncos he looked forward to breaking. As soon as he saw a nice young man, tall and thin, with a boyish face, his heart skipped a beat, as his blood made a quick U-turn and raced back to the turn-off-ramp which led into the cul-de-sac of his penis.

"Okay, Raymond, turn and face the wall. Ok Immense, get this cell door open for me.

After securing the two slaves to each other (to allow them to share their suffering), Sandy told Woody, “C'mon, pard ... we got ta give Flemming a message about 'Alpha-Dogs'!!!”

They locked the cell behind them with the key-card Woody had used to get in, and trotted down the maze of hallways, to where Flemming was attempting to hold court ... apparently not remembering that his status was now ... truncated.

Reaching the scene of the incipient hullaballoo, Sandy yelled out, in a perfect imitation of an irate US Marine Corps drill instructor, “What the FUCK'S going on here???”

Flemming turned to the impudent flea on the back of a dog and said, "Well if it ain't Sandpaper himself, why don´t you get your ass in here as well and put your face against the wall, or perhaps you would like to be ground into the next meatloaf that James can make into hamburger!"

Sandy, as the observant reader will immediately suspect, was far less that delighted to hear this last dribbling from the now-toothless former-alpha-wolf ... he and Woody turned to each other, grinning, and the both nodded ... within seconds, Flemming was in Woody's tight grip, and in a few more seconds, Sandy had him stripped down to his birth-ensemble. Jess Immerser, no blind man when power-struggles were on the menu, lept into the fray to shove Flemming's wadded-up socks into his geriatric pie-hole, allowing for a more tranquil and less ear-splitting handling of this irritant.

“Mmmmpph!! MMMMM!! MmphmMM!!” protested the now subdued dude formerly known as Flemming, with just a hint of irritation in his now-muffled voice.

The tool shed gang thought for a moment that they had gotten the upper hand, when James, faithful chef that he is, turned on the gas and had the whole pack of egghead Benedict Arnalds reduced to snoring cow pokes.

James and his trusty steed, Dark Shadow quickly got the whole bunch of wayward hands cuffed as they began to awake and meet their fate as Flemming awoke and began to plot eachs' castigation. "James you had better get back to the kitchen and put cog au vin on your list, as well as blood puddin, cause there is going to be some blood letting goin on down here." Flemming said and with Dark's help began to chose his weapon.

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.