Copyright 2009 by the author
The story contains unsavoury bondage in a fantasy setting.
Author's note: As always, the responses have been appreciated. Inevitably however, "Harnessed Bucks" may at some stage run out of steam. The story is not strong in narrative and seems to be relying on more and more ridiculous situations. There are probably a few more episodes in this and I'd very much like to know what you think.
thobyandover@y7mail.com
HARNESSED BUCKS
Being an episode in which the captured youths are hauled by their harnesses to a most insalubrious duty.
PART THE FOURTH
The reader will have discerned by this fourth part of the journal the varied conditions in which the Corsair Army keeps its prisoners. We had been in the hands of the Corsair soldiers and also the garrison farm-hands. We had been pilloried on display for the populace of the Corsair settlement and we had been used for work and also for pleasure, and all this in the space of three days and three nights. And if we six had had the opportunity to discuss amongst ourselves which of these activities we preferred and which was our favourite, I doubt that a consensus could be reached, and I think also we would squabble among ourselves to some degree, so diverse had been the pursuits the Corsairs had provided for us.
However, one thing had remained a constant, and the reader will already have some idea as to what this factor could be. The collars and nut-harnesses had been upon us consistently, day and night, locked about our necks and extending to shackles about our cocks and balls. These contraptions and our boots had been with us entirely and had been found by the Corsairs to be necessary for our continued employment. Our boots, by the beginning of the fourth day, were flapping, ruined travesties of their former selves, having ploughed a field and having run, I would adjudge, between thirty to forty miles.
At the beginning of the fourth day I awoke after having dreamt a strange dream. In the dream, I had been in the latrine-block of my division and had been engaged in the use of one of the glory-holes between the cubicles, bored there by cadets. Thusly, I had thrust my cock into the glory-hole to be sucked by a man in the next-door cubicle, and my partner on the other side had been the comely youth I have spoken about in previous chapters. Although I could not see him, I knew this to be so, such is the strange nature of dreams.
But my balls had somehow become entangled in the hole also, and the hole had become tight, and bit me about my man-parts so that I was stuck there. I did yip and yelp and pull with my hand at my organ, trying to separate it from the glory-hole where I had so unwisely placed it, and as I awoke from the dream, I did hear myself yipping and yelping in this same fashion, and I gripped the tightened nutshackle which secured me in my harness.
The farmers woke us with water from a bucket, and the six bucks piled into the bamboo cage did rub their eyes and grunt at each other, for Riace's elbow was in Triss's mouth, and Luk's foot was in Bron's arse, and Willard's arse was in my face, and so on. It was at that time still dark, and Riace did forward the observation that we had, in fact, not slept yet and that we had been placed in the cage not one second ago, and that the farmers who awoke us were in error and that we were still entitled to lie in the cage and sleep. The farmers did subsequently drag him from the cage first and attach a leash to his collar and confine him in the familiar configuration, with his hands manacled behind his neck, and we watched from the cage as they dragged him about the field by the moonlight. They uncoiled a horsewhip and aimed it at his ass, and he did hoot and holler as the cracking tail did find its mark, and he tried to run this way and that, but the farmer with his leash did haul Riace to his will, and the whip did perform its service on Riace's tail time and time again. From seeing this sight, we other bucks in the cage did know not to question our overseers or raise our voice to them, and I personally did resolve to make every attempt to avoid the whip.
The reader may surmise that I myself and my fellows had already felt the whip on previous days, and in doing so, the reader would be correct, but the connoisseur of the whip-cut will inform the reader that there exists a great variance throughout the spectrum of this experience, depending on the particular instrument and who's hands wield it. It is my duty to report that the person who wishes to become expert in this field should become a captive of the Corsairs, for they will be attended to with horsewhip, buggy-slash, riding-swipple, and other manner of the energising swish, and so it was with Riace, who bounded about the furrowed field on his leash, howling and making upmost noise as the leather landed upon his bare buttocks.
Presently, we were all removed from the cage, and we were told by the farming-men that we must run back to the garrison town very fast and report immediately to the town's shit-farm, for their field did need to be fertilized. Apart from the somewhat mysterious nature of this instruction, we did find a thing unfamiliar in our experiences as Corsair captives, for every time we had needed to be transported thus far, we had been secured in a leashed line of running bucks, tethered to a horse, and it did seem apparent to us that the farmers were far more careless in their guard of the prisoners than the Corsair soldiers.
Nevertheless, and with some stinging cracks of the whip at our receding rump-cheeks, we did run diligently down the road toward the town, for the sight of Riace's whipping in the field had taught us to be most cautious in our execution of the orders of our overseers, and the previous few days had additionally instilled within us very valuable lessons concerning the harshness with which we may be treated.
We knew that we should arrive quickly, and so we ran, but we ran without our arms secured behind us or by being pulled along by our man-leashes, and although the leather straps did remain locked to our fronts by neck and balls, we were surprised to be allowed the autonomy of running mostly unsupervised and in a group, and we could carry out a conversation between us if breath could be found.
"Let's run away," said Triss, huffing and puffing.
"No. Let's not," said Riace, puffing and panting. "My ass is stinging sore with the lash and I do not wish to receive another."
"Then we run the thirty miles to the coast and escape the Corsairs," Triss continued.
Said Willard to Triss; "you are a fucking idiot. We will be caught and punished, and we shall all receive the whip and more."
"What you say?" asked Triss of myself and the other fellows. "Should we make our escape now or suffer further?"
Said Luk between laboured breaths; "I think we should carefully consider the possibilities currently presented to us. If we were to attempt flight, we would risk re-capture, and this eventuality would certainly expose us to the anger of the Corsairs, and as we know, this could result in a number of unpleasant circumstances. However, the diligent cadet would weigh these possibilities alongside those of returning to his division, and I therefore say that we should conduct a kind of meeting, or council, whereby the variations of the possibilities and courses of action open to us are discussed candidly. Unfortunately I am not equipped with parchment or quill, whereby a useful list could be made, and the applicable bullet-points be added and made obvious..."
"I'm not spending another day braced in the man-yoke," puffed Riace. I'm not risking punishment. I'm going back to the Corsair garrison."
"That was the worst day of my life," said Willard.
"Consider," panted Bron. "You have already been placed in the man-yoke for nothing, if you go back to the garrison, that is where you could end up again."
Willard said; "Look at us! Naked except for our Corsair harnesses! If we are spied by anyone, it will be obvious we are escaped prisoners. We will be caught!"
"I'm making for the coast," Triss said. "See you lame-ass douche-bags later!"
"No you're fucking not!" I finally interjected. "If we return without one of our number, we will be flayed!"
"Bull-fucking-shit!"
A scuffle ensued in the dusty road, whereby Luk was cuffed by Triss and told he was a geek, and Riace fell to the ground when pummelled by Bron, and eventually Triss and Bron were restrained by the rest of us and hauled by their leashes along the road toward the garrison.
"Lucky we were fitted with these man-leashes," Willard said. "How easy it is to haul a man with one!"
"A very valid point," replied Luk.
And so thus, as the morn did break, we made our way back to the Corsair garrison town, and I did worry and feel some unease at the pace we should make and any wrongdoing we should perform, for previously we had been made to do exactly what the Corsairs had wished us to do by restraint and harness, and now we were given some freedom, but I knew also we should continue to do exactly as ordered, and my fret was that we were given the freedom to commit some unforseen crime, and be punished forthwith.
Users of the road did stare at us curiously, from cart and donkey, and I am glad to say that all six of us did find it prudent to keep our mouths shut, for some among our number are prone to verbosity, at times, with their big gob, and there was no way for us to tell what may result from the vocal emissions of Corsair prisoners as they ran down the road naked, shod in boots and stirruped by the nuts.
Our cocks flung from side to side as we ran, and as the highway became more crowded we did huddle together, aware of our conspicuous nakedness and the absurdity of our appearance. A handsome young man in fine riding breeches and a colourful plume and mounted upon a fine steed did see us as he travelled in the opposite direction, and after first noticing his splendid appearance, I did countenance him little, for there were plenty of other users of the road and I did seek to draw as little attention as I could to our group, given the circumstances. But this young man did turn his horse about and follow us, and did presently draw up alongside us as we ran, and his horse did trot and clip-clop at our pace. I did somehow feel his eyes upon me and I did resolve to not look at him, instead keeping my view fixed ahead, and for a time I did ignore him. But he did stay with us for some distance and in an unexpected moment I did turn my head and did see him smiling down at me. With a wink and a flash of his teeth he did flick his riding-crop and jauntily did tap his plume and turn about. He was gone in his original direction and I felt my blood rush to my face.
On occasion, persons of the female variety were encountered, and when this happened we did cover ourselves as we ran. Four young ladies in riding caps and with their hair tied back did meet us, and looked at us most sternly. They were each mounted separately and were each equipped with a white-leather riding-swipple, and their flat-soled riding boots did pass us very closely, and I did make special effort to hide my cock from them.
Presently also, a long carriage drawn by two donkeys did slowly pass us, and this vehicle did proclaim along its side in large letters; "Corsair College School for the Finishing of Young Ladies." As may be surmised, this conveyance was indeed consigned with the cargo to which its signature did designate. All along its side, the refined young ladies uniformly dressed in white did giggle and wave their dainty parasols.
"There are the pretty bucks we saw on the public pillory!" they did titter loudly into their lace gloves.
We six running bucks did slow our pace significantly in order to allow this carriage to pass us and hopefully recede into the distance ahead, so that the polished ladies of Corsair society may be educated with new sights to improve them, but they did seem to slow with us and it became apparent that an object of this day's lesson was to observe in its natural state the prime younker, streamlined and in top condition, pacing for their studious contemplation and politely holding its balls in two cupped hands.
So we did speed up, hoping to leave the learned students of the Corsair College behind, but they did speed up also, and this did continue for some distance before they took a side-road, waving and laughing.
To the discerning reader, it will have been obvious that the beginning of our fourth day in captivity had followed a somewhat different path to those previous, for I have described a series of events in this chapter which may seem to the observer somewhat ludicrous. Be assured, however, that every word is entirely true and we harnessed bucks did mortify ourselves in the ways described. Be assured also that the following part of the narrative does contain events which are less ludicrous and regrettably more familiar.
We approached the town in our ruined boots and did wonder about where we must go, for we had been instructed to attend the shit-farm and we knew not where this place did exist. And so, we did ask a number of knowledgeable passers-by; "Sir, where is the shit-farm, Sir?" and were told; "follow your noses, boys!" and similar things.
Then we did see an ominous sight, and this was a number of Corsair soldiers approaching us on horseback, and these soldiers were beside themselves with rage at the vision of we prisoners running freely about in our harnesses accosting citizens. We announced to them that we were in search of the shit-farm and this did seem to enrage them further, and they uncoiled studded whips with flying tails and drove us fast in a certain direction and I did receive more stripes for my ass even though I was most keen to pursue at top speed the direction they indicated.
We were driven through long grass and we did begin to smell an unholy stench, and we were slowed by a soft quagmire beneath the grass where our boots did squelch, and presently we did encounter a series of ramshackle huts in a shallow ditch which were staffed by men wearing soaked cloth around their faces, obscuring their noses and mouths. Here, the soldiers did depart, repelled by the stink, and we were handed over to these strange-dressed men.
The smell which I have mentioned was enough to cause my eyes to sting, and did carry in the air a most noxious odour of filth and waste. Leashes were clipped to our collars, and again we were efficiently tethered and drawn, excepting whereupon on this occasion we were each individually attached to a long strap and not leashed together. We were each equipped with a large canvas bucket, open at the top, which we wore on our backs like packs, and our wrists were again manacled behind our necks. At this juncture, I surmised that the morning's frivolities involving school-girls were over and that the Corsairs were intent on employing us on harsh terms once again.
Individually leashed by our collars and, by extension of the harnesses, also our genitals, we trotted obediently with the canvas buckets on our backs and with our arms upheld. The men who drew us along had their faces entirely swathed to protect them from the putrid stink, which grew stronger and more tactile in the air as we followed through the lush grass further into the wide ditch. The smell I can not adequately describe, for it violated my nostrils and poisoned my lungs, and caused me to gasp with bewilderment and wonder. The grass became longer and greener as we went, and a strange buzzing sound grew in our ears.
We were attacked by a swarm of flies, and the flies were at least the size of penny-bits each, and were luridly coloured in metallic blue, and such insects I had never before observed, the blowflies of our division which thrived among the latrines being much smaller and less offensive. These big blue flies did bite and sting, and the men who drew us by leash were used to their presence for they did swathe themselves from head to foot to protect themselves and even their eyes were covered. But we were naked, and the buzzing swarm did irritate us most gravely.
The stink did grow as we moved further into the shallow ditch, and the flies did increase their number, flying about above our heads and harassing us and buzzing with a strident din. Near the centre of the ditch there did exist a most repulsive sight for us to behold, for this was a deep-dug trench which was filled with untreated sewage, and it was apparent that this river of waste was the cause of the stink and the flies.
Parts of it were covered in a green moss and other parts did expose a brown surface with turds floating on top, and in places large bubbles did rise releasing gas which did reek most grievously, and all about there was only thick green grass and the unholy flies, for civilised species had fled this area. The field-mouse and the bunny-rabbit had up-camped long since and departed to less offensive quarters and no beaver did choose to make his home here. Instead, a plague population of mutant dung-flies did lay its writhing maggots and the shit-farm staff did cloak themselves heavily in protective clothing and masks, aware, no doubt, of the toxic effects of the waste-plant.
I did surmise at that time that the human effects upon the natural environment – the grassy plain and the wooded forest – may even be enough to cause the climate to change, so high was the stench and so unnatural were the surroundings in which we then found ourselves. A contaminated steam did rise into the air from the trench and we youths – so used to the wide plain and open air – did kick against our leashes to get away from the place and we made angry noises and wiggled in our harnesses, our cocks jiggling.
But we were brought forward. With the canvas buckets on our backs and our arms uselessly fixed behind our necks, we were unwillingly dragged. We slithered down the embankment and entered the stinking trench where our packs may be filled, and I did immerse myself fully, not finding firm ground under my boots and not being able to paddle or swim. With a load of turds on my back I did struggle to climb out, and I slipped on the shit which was underfoot as the leash jerked my cock, and I did grunt and groan.
Soft turds did slide all about my body and the stinking shit-sludge had entered every orifice, and furthermore, I did carry a very heavy load of it on my back, for the reader is almost certainly unaware of the weighty characteristics of that most unappealing substance which emerges from their rear-end from time to time, and the smell of it did make me wonder at the diet undertaken by the inhabitants of the Corsair garrison town. The leash which held me was very long, for the person who drew me along did not want to be near me or the cloud of buzzing blue flies which surrounded me.
We were to carry our loads back the field which we had ploughed, and for this purpose our leashes were handed to small messenger boys who did seem to collect payment if the form of coins. The many donkeys and horses we had seen were too highly valued to be employed in the carriage of the brown manure, and so this task had been delegated to the captured, harnessed bucks who had no choice and were pulled running down the road on their cock-leashes, each attracting many flies.
Behind my neck where my hands were fixed, I did grasp the canvas bucket, taking its weight. Thusly, I was able to share the load between my shoulders and my arms. My boots were filled with the foul liquid and did serve to add to my encumberment, and as well as the flies I did discover other insects which lived upon shit and these slimy dung-beetles did crawl upon me. The reader will pause to consider our most unattractive condition, for each of us was covered from head to toe with the contents of a latrine pit, and we did additionally carry a load of it on our backs, and we left a trail of it wherever we went and we also each had assembled a swarm of many flies which followed us in the manner of gulls trailing behind a fishing boat, and we were each pulled along by a small boy who ran without regard for our oppressive burden or the painful shackles about our cocks and necks. At this juncture I did come to understand the feelings which must be experienced by an overloaded pack-mule, for I was helpless in my harness and unable to shed the putrid cargo upon my back. Also, I did hope most utterly that the gracious inmates of the Corsair College School for the Finishing of Young Ladies did not encounter us again, for I was unable to hide my dangling manhood and I was in a most disgraceful condition with shit running all over me, and as a fit young lad I was most sensitive as to my appearance in the presence of pretty girls.
Green turds did fall away from me and I did leave a trail of them behind me on the road, many of them crawling and seething with beetles, and although I could not see due to the restricting configuration of my collar, I did ascertain that one especially large beetle did cling to my swinging penis with sharp claws, and this insect would not let go, and so tightly did it grip my schlong that I did begin to swing and sway as I ran, making my cock flail about, hoping to dislodge the gross creature.
Other uses of the road did become disconcerted at the shit-stinking mess we did leave behind us, and the urchins who led us were told in certain terms to take us well away, for horses and donkeys eat only grass and their manure is tolerable, but the man-dung we carried and spilled did raise a high pong which was unpleasant for all those about, and many people did hold their noses in disgust and look upon us with stern countenances and abused us for the filth we spread about, not seeming to realise that we naked men did not use their road and transport our offensive cargo for our own benefit or through our own choice. Subsequently, we were dragged off and did make our way through brush and tangle on a parallel course.
Triss did fall, and spill his entire shipment all over him, and so he was taken back toward the shit-farm for another, and this did cause him to assume a most dejected manner. At that moment I did think upon the most regrettable incident of our being taken by the Corsairs as prisoners in the original episode and did contemplate with heavy heart how one circumstance did lead to another and how we six stout warriors did come to be led about helplessly by small messenger boys with wretched harnesses attached to our necks and cocks. The diligent cadet will follow along with my story most carefully and make every endeavour not to be taken, for this parchment, I believe, will be pinned to the notice-board of my division for every cadet to peruse, and all will know of how we lugged the putrefying fertiliser by harness and cock-leash to the Corsair grain field.
This day was spent going backwards and forwards, and at one end of the journey was the ploughed field, where we did traverse the furrows and distribute our shit – the valuable fertiliser which would see the Corsair food-stocks to grow. At this intersection the farmers did stay well away from us and our consort of flying insects, for our stink was most strong. The expedition back to the shit-farm was obviously easier, as our canvas back-packs were empty, but nonetheless I was wearied to the point of exhaustion.
Each time we attended the shit-farm we were dipped again in the foul trench, and many waifs and urchins did assemble in order to be paid for our haulage, and these small boys did sort out amongst themselves who would be given a turn next at towing the bucks, and one group of them would disperse with their jangling coins, exclaiming they were off to buy sweets, and more boys did accumulate and they did exhibit some measure of happiness at the prospect of being paid cash money for their work, for running through the brush with a buck-leash in hand is tiring and dirty work, and often the leashed buck does strain at his tether and show an unwilling disposition. And sometimes it was necessary for other boys who were inured to the stink and flies to follow along behind the buck, switching him on the buttocks with a branch of birch, and this did cause the buck to bellow and curse as he ran, for the harnessed buck can be a most disruptive creature, and unlike the friendly mule, must be whipped and hauled by his shackled nuts to his work.
As the furrowed field became slowly layered with human waste, we did become caked with shit also, and we did become separated in our ways, the boys who did haul us taking different paths and at different speeds. As I was hauled through the scrub, I did encounter a group of people whom I had no wish to meet, and I did curse my ill luck, for these were the girls of the Corsair College School for the Finishing of Young Ladies who did seem to have embarked upon a scientific expedition of some sort, and I did wonder at the educational opportunities offered by the Corsairs to their young.
These young ladies did seem to be collecting insects under the direction of their school marm, and I did carry out some speculation as to how any person could be interested in such things, for I myself had collected a retinue of beetles and flies on and about my person and had very little desire to continue my acquaintance with these creatures.
The fine young ladies, dressed in lace and chirping happily amongst themselves did express surprise at the appearance of a naked buck tromping through the bush, hauled by a dirty brat on the end of a man-leash and bearing a sack of shit on his back, and these young ladies did suddenly become disinterested in their butterflies and become interested in the buck instead, who did seem to belong to a species more interesting to young ladies than the bugs and beetles which had previously occupied them. I did wish fervently for the company of my fellows so that the attention of pretty girls be dispersed somewhat, and I was dismayed when the young lad who held my leash did pause so that I may be displayed.
"What a fine, slim younker!" exclaimed one lass.
"As fit and as graceful as a colt!" said another.
"Look at his cock!" one said.
"Come, girls," said the matronly school marm. "This is a common dung-mule captured by the raiding parties and is not a fit sight for young ladies to see!"
"But Miss," chirrupted one excitable lass. "He has a pretty face and a small, rounded bum and his belly reminds one of the wash-house scrubbing boards and we have seen such already within the pages of the woman's periodicals which we have hidden under our bunks..."
The other girls shushed this female with urgent tones, and I saw the school marm purse her lips and become an angry shade of red. At that moment I did issue an ill-advised speech to my female audience, and did inform them that although they saw me in a disgraceful condition, covered in dung and hauled as an animal, I was, in fact, a first-class warrior who had fought many battles and slain many a Corsair, including a number of Corsair generals, and my mouth did hardly contain itself as these words were said, and the school marm did take up flexible switch of willow and did lay it with harsh, flicking swats across my rump, and did order the boy to pull me on. At this, I did become very angry indeed, and did strain and kick against the harness, and the girls did laugh at this, and somehow my cock swelled and grew to erection-size, and the eyes of the school girls did widen in surprise. They held their hands to their mouths and glanced to each other in their amusement and wonder at my firm manhood. And I could not hide my erected prong, for my arms were behind my neck, manacled and holding the straps of my load.
The design of the man-harness was such that even a stout buckaroo cannot resist, even when pulled by a small boy, for the shackle did tighten around my nuts and cause me to obey and the switching willow wielded by the school marm did sting on my bare ass. As I ran off with my shit-laden pack I did seethe with more anger and my cock did fail to go down and remained upstanding, shuddering and lurching as my balls bounced this way and that.
The reader may well shake his head and wipe his furrowed brow at the events of this strange day, so outrageous and surprising are the occurrences contained in this narrative, and it may be true also that not all these events are within the taste of the reader to contemplate, so varied and odd are they. Let it be said, however, that the incidents which immediately follow take a very different path, and in the next parchment, the cultured scholar will be presented with an account designed for some magnitude in the arousal of the senses.
Thoby Andover
thobyandover@y7mail.com