Just Joe and the rhino whip (Part 1)
By Hornblower
He was 20, but he could have passed for seventeen with his choirboy looks and slender build. His open face was topped with a mop of tight blond curls that fell across his forehead, his big brown puppy dog eyes could melt you just to look at them, and an impish little grin lit up his features whenever his wicked sense of humour got the better of him, which was often.
He came jauntily up the path to my rambling old farmhouse, all his worldly goods in a swag slung over his narrow shoulders, an attractive sight in a pair of tight cut-off denim shorts and little else, his tanned bare upper body glistening with sweat in the heat of the afternoon sun.
I was working on the tractor, harrowing the big paddock behind the house in readiness for a spring crop of beans when I first saw him and I stopped to watch him approach. There was something about the self-assurance of his walk that captured my attention. He looked like someone who knew where they were going and what they wanted, and there was none of the hesitancy that some youngsters his age would have shown when approaching a stranger.
I kept the tractor idling, leaning forward across the steering wheel to watch him as he came closer. His beauty was quite breathtaking and I knew instantly that I wanted him.
"G'day," he said, giving me the traditionally laconic Aussie greeting, to which I nodded in response.
"I don't suppose you've got any work around the place?"
I get a lot of job-seekers come by and usually they are downcast and apologetic. They shuffle and hang their heads as if they are ashamed to be asking for work. This boy was different. He looked me straight in the eye when he spoke, and I felt an instant twinge of lust deep down inside me.
It was too early in the season for me to be looking for casual labour to help with the harvest and except for the paddock I was working on, I had already finished the spring planting.
"What do you do?"
He flashed me his impish grin.
"Just about anything," he said fixing his big brown eyes on mine, and I couldn't help smiling back at him.
"Anything?" I asked putting as much meaning as I could into the word.
He flushed, aware of the implication of what he had said, but then the grin became broader.
"Sure. I'll give anything a go once," he said. "Twice if I like it."
I switched off the tractor and climbed down. The boy was about my height which is a whisker short of six foot but where I'm heavily muscled from years of working around the farm, he was trim with very little bulk and a lithe grace to his long limbs. His muscles were defined, and there was a tightness about him that was most apparent in the twin mounds of his gorgeous backside that stretched the thin fabric of his faded blue denim shorts.
I extended my hand, which he shook vigorously.
"Mike Dewhirst," I said.
"Joe."
"Just Joe?"
He nodded. "Yeah, just Joe." In the bush a man's entitled to tell as much or as little about himself as he chooses, so I didn't press him further.
"OK, Just Joe," I said. "We had better see if we can find you something to do. Have you got somewhere to sleep?"
He shook his head. "Nah. Been sleeping a bit rough."
"OK," I said. "Here's the deal. You can bunk in the spare room and I'll give you three square meals a day. In return I want to see some work out of you. Do a good job and I'll give you a cash bonus as well. Fair go?"
He flashed me his most dazzling smile. "You bet!"
I must have been mad. There was barely enough work around the place for me to keep myself busy and after a couple of bad seasons I wasn't exactly flush with money. But there was something about Just Joe that made me desperately want to look after him and maybe, just maybe, get into those very tight denim shorts he was wearing. I told myself that I was being stupid. Because the boy was blessed with angelic good looks didn't mean he was queer, and he would probably run a mile if I came on to him. But I was mesmerised and I knew that I had to have him, or at least to try.
I left him stacking boxes in the old barn that doubled as a packing shed and went back to the tractor, but it was impossible to concentrate. When I nearly put the tractor through the wire fence at the top end of the paddock I decided it was time to call it a day, and headed back to the barn. I parked the tractor and headed in to see how Just Joe was going.
He had finished stacking the boxes and was playing with a whip that he had obviously found hanging on the back of the door with some old harnesses. They had been there since my mother died, which was the last time there had been horses on the property. I had forgotten about the whip. It was a South African police sjambok that my father had brought home with him as a souvenir after a visit to Africa. God knows why. It wasn't the kind of souvenir people normally brought home from their travels but my father must have had his reasons, and the sjambok had hung untouched on the barn door ever since.
Just Joe slashed the whip through the air and it made a menacing sound. I winced at the thought of it biting into someone's flesh. The whip was about three feet long with an ebony handle and it tapered from a three-quarter inch diameter at its widest point down to about a quarter inch. It was a cruel implement and I regretted that I had kept it, though I had simply forgotten that it was there.
"What is it?" Just Joe asked, swishing it a couple more times.
"It's a sjambok," I said. "It's made of rhino hide. The police used to use them in South Africa to keep order."
"Did people get whipped with it?"
"I guess so," I said.
"Jesus. Imagine getting your bum flogged with that. It would hurt like shit."
"I reckon that would be an understatement," I said. "It would be sheer brutal fucking torture."
"Do you think they tied them up?"
I shrugged. "They probably had to. You wouldn't be able to take more than a couple of strokes of that thing if you weren't tied up."
Just Joe was breathing heavily and I wondered if the thought of a whipping was turning him on. But I pushed the thought aside. The boy was simply too young and angelic looking to be into that kind of thing.
"Did you ever get it?" he asked.
"Me? Shit no. That's not my scene."
Just Joe ran the whip through his hand almost as if he was caressing it.
"You'd have to be a real man to take it, wouldn't you?" he said, his breathing still laboured.
"I guess so," I said, taking the sjambok from him and hanging it back on the barn door with the horse leathers. "Come on let's go and eat."
Just Joe kept up a cheerful chatter as I prepared dinner, a big bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce, though I didn't learn much more about him except that he had been on the road for a while and had been living on his wits. No mention of home or family and I resisted the urge to ask questions. He would tell me in his own good time if he wanted to and if not, it was none of my business anyway. The farm was a lonely place for much of the time and I was content enough just to have the company of this incredibly attractive young man.
He went and had a shower and came back looking clean and scrubbed in loose fitting tracksuit pants and a sleeveless top. He smelt irresistibly of soap and boy, and I had to restrain myself from touching him, from pulling him close to me and burying my face against him.
"You smell good," I said and he flashed me his dazzling smile again. He lifted his arm and jokingly thrust his armpit towards my face. The sexual tension was electric, and I wanted to drop everything and take him then and there.
"Food," I said firmly, and put two heaped plates down on the kitchen table.
After dinner we sat in front of the television for a while but there was nothing much worth watching and when the news came on I said I was going to bed. The truth was that I couldn't stand the tension of being close to him any longer. I wanted him desperately, perhaps more than I had ever wanted another human being, but I was afraid that if I made a wrong move I would frighten him off, that he would sling his meagre possessions into his swag and disappear into the night.
I needn't have worried. I was just about to put the light out when Just Joe came into my room. Without waiting to be invited he climbed on to the end of my bed and sat facing me with his arms wrapped around his knees.
He looked at me seriously, his big brown eyes searching mine.
"Can I ask you a question, Mike?"
"Sure."
"You won't go crook on me?"
"Of course not," I said. "Why should I?"
"It's kind of personal."
"Like?"
"Like does it hurt getting fucked up the bum?"
I was taken aback. The question took me totally by surprise.
"What makes you think I would know?" I said lamely and Just Joe snorted.
"Aw, come on,"he said. "I'm not fucking stupid. You've been perving on my bum ever since I got here."
"OK, "I said "It can be painful and it can be the most wonderful sensation you can imagine. It depends. The first few times usually hurt a bit and after that you learn to relax and it gets easier."
"Does it hurt a lot the first time?"
"If the guy who's fucking you has a big cock and you're not used to it yes, I guess it can do."
"Have you got a big cock?"
"Yes."
"How big?"
I laughed. "Big." I pulled the sheet back to show him.
"Holy shit!"
"Don't worry I'm not going to try and fuck you if you don't want me to."
Just Joe looked indignant. "Who said I didn't want you to?"
"I thought you were afraid it would hurt."
"That doesn't mean I don't want you to do it."
This conversation was making me unbelievably horny. Just Joe was undoubtedly the most sexually provocative young man I had ever set eyes on and I knew I had to have him. I also knew that if he was a virgin I was probably going to hurt him and that worried me, even though he didn't seem to care.
"Are you sure about this? I'm serious about it hurting."
"So am I," Just Joe said, breathing heavily, very turned on now. He licked his dry lips a couple of times. "Have you fucked a lot of men?"
"Yes," I said. "I've fucked a lot of men."
Joe moved up the bed so that he could reach under the sheet and take my big cock in his hand.
"What about guys my age?"
"Yes," I said. "Guys your age."
"Did they take it like men? The young guys, I mean"
"Sometimes. Not always. Some guys don't cope too well with a big cock like mine."
"Did they cry?"
"Sometimes. That's nothing to be ashamed of. It can make it easier."
"Did you enjoy hurting them?"
I had never really thought about it. Pain and sex often went together and most of the men I'd had sex with had been willing to tolerate any pain there may have been in return for the pleasure that inevitably followed. I had never consciously taken pleasure in hurting another man, though now I thought about it I realised that I did get a buzz when my big, thrusting cock caused a partner to gasp and cry out or plead with me to go easy.
"It can be a turn on," I said. "But don't worry. I won't be rough on you."
"You don't have to go easy for my sake," Just Joe said. "I'm not a kid. I want you to fuck me like you fuck a man."
His boyish looks belied his protest. He looked much more like a frightened boy, and it made me want him all the more. His face was pale beneath his mop of blond curls and I could see the apprehension in his big brown eyes. At that moment I needed to pull him close to me and cuddle him, to reassure him. I was going to fuck him---I was going to fuck him hard---and it was going to be an intensely emotional experience for both of us, but for him it was also going to be an initiation rite that would take him across a deep, storm-tossed river of pain and into the sunny meadowlands of pleasure that lay beyond.
I lifted the sheet so that he could slide in next to me then wrapped my arms tightly around him as he snuggled up to me. Our faces were close and our mouths met, lips parting to let each other in, tongues exploring, pressed against each other in an intensity of passion. My hands roamed his body, stroking the firm round cheeks of his buttocks, slipping off his clothes so that he was naked against me, and my fingers toyed with the wiry curls of blond hair on the inside of his muscular young thighs before moving up to lightly touch his balls and the hard tumescent shaft of his manhood.
I reached over for a tube of lubricant that I kept on the bedside table and squeezed some onto my index finger. I found his tight puckered hole but it resisted the intrusion and I had to force my finger into him causing him to let out a small yelp of surprise which he quickly stifled, not wanting to show weakness.
He wrapped his hand around my cock, in awe of its length. I was fully hard now and its big distended veins throbbed to his touch.
"Fuck, it's big," he said. "It's fucking mega huge."
"And it's going right up you," I said.
His whole body began to tremble and I had to hold him tightly to keep him still.
"What if I can't take it?"
"I might have to tie you to the bed."
"Would you do that?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes." The word came out as a hoarse whisper, barely audible.
I fetched lengths of nylon cord from a scrap box in the hall cupboard and when I came back into the bedroom Just Joe was lying naked on his back on top of the sheets, arms and legs spread wide. He was a delectable sight with his tanned young body spread out in readiness for me, big sexy nipples like two dark crowns against his hairless chest and his hard cock rising out of a lovely little blond pubic bush, flat up against his taut belly, signifying his eagerness for what was to come. His vulnerability made me want to gather him up and cradle him in my arms for an altogether more gentle experience, but I could see the determination in his face. He wanted me to tie him up, and he wanted me to fuck him hard, to show me that he was a man who could take it, no matter how painful.
He was nervous, but he still managed to flash me his cheeky grin as I looped the nylon cord around his left wrist and tied it off to the bed head, repeating it with the other wrist so that he was immobilised with his arms spread wide behind his head. He tested the bonds, checking that I had trussed him tightly enough, nodding his approval. I placed a pillow under him, raising up his arse, and then recommenced my intrusion of his tight hole with my greased finger, massaging it gently in and out to relax him. Soon he was loose enough to take a second finger, showing no signs of discomfort.
I lifted his legs up over my shoulders and pushed the head of my sheathed cock up against him
"Ready?"
He fixed his eyes on mine and I could see his need.
"Fuck me good and hard, Mike," he said. "Really let me have it."
I gave him the lot in one hard, merciless thrust, battering through his resistance and stretching him wide to take the entire length of my great thick rod.
The tears welled in his dark eyes. His body writhed beneath me, thrashing against his bonds, trying desperately to expel the massive weapon on which I had impaled him.
"Oh Jesus!" he shouted. "Please...I don't think I can take it."
I pulled back slightly but only a few inches then banged it back in harder than the first time and he yelled again, more loudly.
"Jesus, it hurts!"
"That's what you want isn't it?" I said. "You want to feel my great big cock stretching your tight little man cunt."
He continued struggling but the more he tried to push me out, the deeper he let me in.
"Take it like a man!" I snarled. "Or am I going to have to give you a session with the sjambok so you can learn what real pain is all about?" I slapped him hard, twice, to emphasise my words.
"Please, Mike...." He bit on his lip, struggling manfully to hold back the tears.
"You wanted it hard," I said, "you're getting it hard."
He was so incredibly tight that my every punishing thrust sent a shudder of pain through him. But he took it without a whimper, and his face showed the turmoil as he fought for control. This was his initiation, his river of pain, and we both knew that I mustn't spare him even though there would be a long way to go before we reached the other side.
My cock was like a piston, relentless, until at last he began to relax, lifting his arse slightly to meet the upward thrusts, savouring the momentary respite of each brief withdrawal. He even managed a small wry smile, and I knew then that he was winning the inner battle. I could feel the first stirrings of release deep down in my balls as my cock continued to pound him. And then we were across the river and the contortions of Just Joe's angelic young face told me that his pain was rapidly dissolving into ecstasy. He bucked his hips, pushing forward to meet my thrusts and the wry smile became a broad grin as he began to manipulate my cock, working the tight ring of his sphincter around my shaft.
"YES!" It was a yell of triumph. He was taking control now, dictating the pace as he humped his arse against me, drawing me into him. "Fuck me with that fat cock. Fuck me hard."
I continued to thrust into him, grunting now with the exertion and the nearness of my release, and Just Joe was a wild thing beneath me, thrashing his body, tugging at the restraints that held him to the bed, screaming at me to fuck him harder. He began moaning, not in pain, but with uncontrolled passion.
`FUCK ME!" he yelled and I quickened my pace, pounding him harder, pounding him faster, banging my cock into him in a fury of lust.
`YES!!!! FUCK MY ARSE! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG COCK!"
We were both out of control now, beyond reason. I was grunting like an animal as I pounded my cock into him while Just Joe continued to scream at me to fuck him harder.
We came at the same moment, me with my big cock buried deep inside him and Just Joe shooting powerful spurts of creamy white jism into his hair, into his face, on to his chest, on to his flat rippled belly, spurt after spurt shooting out of his rock hard cock until it was impossible for him to shoot any more and we collapsed together, breathless from our exertion.
Finally I raised the energy to untie his bonds and we held each other tightly. We lay together like that for a long time, too exhausted to speak.
Just Joe snuggled against me, his mop of blond curls resting on my chest.
"Mike...."
"Mmmmmm?"
"Would you do something for me?"
"Mmmmm."
"Fuck me again," he said.
(Copyright) Hornblower 2002