The Farm Chapter 1
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
[email protected]

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Emily Git, recently departed from the lives of Tommy and Chad Henson, has been sent indefinitely to The Reverend Goodbody's Farm of Holiness and Redemption, where she joins many other children already there and will be joined by others as the story progresses. The Reverend's unique ideas about how to save the mortal souls of his young charges result in embarrassing, painful, and humiliating punishments for all who are under his care. The story begins as Emily joins the Mules on The Reverend's farm, and then will move on through various other parts of his operation, including the Monkeys, the Babies, the Pyros, and the Peons. Intermittently, flashbacks to The Reverend's own childhood will pop up and give more insight into his own character. Throughout, we'll see The Farm through the eyes of its residents as they each tell their stories.

Chapter 1: The Mules

Joshua Kemper was excited. Excited, but confused. And a bit scared. But mostly, excited and confused. He wasn't a Peon anymore, and that was exciting. Most of the kids at The Reverend Goodbody's Farm of Holiness and Redemption were Peons, or were striving to leave worse subgroups to become Peons, or were scheming to move into the few supervisory positions in the Peons such as ward leader or overseer, or caretaker for the Babies (although they tended to be exclusively female as well). He himself had been scheming to become a ward leader up until a few hours before that. A promotion out of the Peons had come, but the position he'd been elevated to was drover, not ward leader or overseer, and that was confusing.

It was confusing for a simple reason. As his name implied, Joshua was a boy. He was a boy through and through, from one end to the other (especially where his legs joined, which was where it counted in what you did and how you were treated at The Farm). And like the other boys, he'd dreamed and schemed about becoming a ward leader, or an overseer. But not a drover. He hadn't even known such a thing was possible. Because all the drovers were girls.

Yes, all the drovers were girls, every one of them. That's how it had been when he'd first come to The Farm, and that's how it had been all the time he'd been at the farm. The drovers were all girls, generally mean-spirited, hardnosed, streetwise girls, tough as any boy, and most of them just as short-haired (The drover girls, like overseers and ward leaders, weren't required to wear the buzz cuts the other inmates all wore, but many of them preferred the short hair anyway). It took a tough girl to handle a mule, tough enough to make even the biggest, strongest mule cower in fear when she raised her whip or her paddle. And the girls who drove the mules were that tough. He knew - he'd been a mule himself.

When he'd first come to The Farm, Joshua had thought about little for a long time beyond his aching muscles and his sore spots and the fact that he never, never got enough sleep and was always tired. The days had been a long, gray haze, filled with back breaking labor and sharp pain for misbehavior, followed often by days of dull ache, especially on both sides of his body below the waist. He didn't hope, he didn't despair, he didn't do anything but eat, piss, shit, pull, and try to avoid punishment. And then happenstance had vaulted him out of the Mules and into the Peons, where most of the children were, with the exceptions of the smaller other special groups, like the Monkeys, whose compound he'd seen and was still amazed by, and the Babies, who he'd only heard of from other children, and the Pyros (and nobody wanted to be sent to join the Pyros).

He'd soon discovered that the overseers and ward leaders among the Peons were inmates, too - older boys and girls who'd been raised from the ranks of the Peons to positions of power by obtaining The Reverend's favor or the favor of one of his toadies and minions. The drovers, too, were girls who were long time inmates, raised to positions of power. Well, he was certainly supposed to be a long-time inmate. And he'd decided he'd keep his eyes open and try to determine how to become a ward leader or overseer himself.

Yet, for a long time, he'd despaired that it would never happen, that he was doomed to an adolescence of submission, humiliation, and pain, all because of one mistake that arose from one moment of rebellion and uncontrolled anger. But he'd hung in there, and kissed whatever had to be kissed, and licked whatever had to be licked, both figuratively and literally, and now his situation had taken a dramatic turn for the better. He'd been called to the office just an hour ago (more than a little apprehensive - calls to the office often meant being spanked or paddled or sent to the cock stocks, or worse by The Reverend himself) only to find that The Reverend was out, and The Doctor was waiting for him instead. For a moment he thought that was an even worse sign, that he'd been scheduled for some medical procedure or the other (children were put through all sorts of surprise medical procedures "for their own good," including thorough, humiliating physicals, rectal exams, genital examinations, dental procedures, prostate massages, and even high colonics. Getting a high colonic, Joshua knew from personal experience, meant having a hose stuffed up your butt, way, way up your butt, to wash out everything in your intestines. He'd hated the high colonic he'd gotten - you stood on all fours with your legs spread on either side of a drain in the floor in the clinic, while the doctor fed a hose up your butt and your butt gushed water like a fire hydrant, water that spilled off your balls and ran down your legs like you were peeing yourself.

But there were worse things than medical procedures. Once in awhile a boy or girl was called up to be used as a test subject for some new punishment apparatus or some new type of paddle that the Doctor was interested in studying, and that was as bad or worse than visiting The Reverend himself. According to other boys, some guys even had to jerk off for extended periods of time while The Doctor collected their successive outputs for examination, and those stories had the ring of truth to them because the boys always appeared in the shower later with sore, red, spent dicks that were sporting painful-looking chafing marks. And their expressions when they had to pee betrayed serious wear and tear on the internal apparatus, too.

But The Doctor wasn't there to take him to the dreaded clinic for a procedure, either. She simply notified him in curt terms to obtain his small collection of clothes and other belongings from his locker in the dorm and take them to the stable, because The Reverend himself was on his way there with an especially troublesome new inmate, and Joshua, already marked as one of the blessed, was being elevated to drover as soon as the new kid had been processed by medical and outfitted and had joined the Mules. Before he could even adjust to this surprising turn of events, Joshua was dismissed, and he had hurried off, puzzled but excited, to collect his small stash of belongings and carry them to the stable. He'd entered the front door and gone to the duty desk, a bit breathless, where a tough, scarred older girl with short-cropped hair had looked at him disdainfully.

"Yes?" she'd said, eyeing the pile of clothing he carried in a neat stack. "If you're lost, little boy, the nursery for the Babies is that way." She pointed to the west. "Better hurry before you need a diaper change."

"I'm ..." he stopped to catch his breath. "I'm—I'm the new drover," he said. "For the new kid."

"You're a boy," she said, eyeing his crotch, which, in the tight shorts the boys wore, clearly delineated his sex.

"I know," he said needlessly. "But The Doctor told me to come here - she said I'm to take the new boy."

A girl came up behind her, carrying a pile of papers. "I think it's in the orders for tomorrow," she said. Unlike the girl behind the desk, this one was actually attractive. She hadn't elected the buzz cut most drover girls had -- her hair was long, down to her shoulders, and blond, and her facial structure was unmarked and feminine. Her long drover shift was loose, as the clothing of all the drovers tended to be, and only went down to her mid thigh, exposing long, shapely legs. The thrust of the top suggested ample feminine charms, too. Joshua, a pubescent boy through and through, pushed those thoughts away quickly - sexual arousal was easily detected in the tight, stretchy shorts the boys wore (at least the boys who'd earned shorts), and it didn't pay most of the time to be seen aroused. The girls began poking through the pile of papers.

"Oh, here it is. New mule coming in sometime this evening. New drover name of Kemper to report and be settled in. That you?"

Joshua had nodded. "I'm Joshua Kemper," he said a bit tentatively.

Joshua didn't say anything, as there didn't seem to be anything to say to that.

"A boy drover. That could be interesting," the other girl had said, giving Joshua what was clearly a seductive smile."

"No, it's just going to be trouble," the head girl had said. "We only have one shower room down here, and one toilet room. You want one of them sharing it with us?"

"He's kinda cute," the blond girl said. "I, myself, wouldn't mind seeing more of him." She eyed his crotch openly for a moment. "Besides, I kind of like them."

"That kind of talk can get you punishment detail," the head girl said curtly. "You want to be cleaning the toilets tomorrow?" The other girl put on a sober look, but her eyes twinkled at Joshua, and she looked him up and down.

"You're disgusting," the head girl said. "Anyway, you can see he doesn't have anything down there - most of the mules are a heck of a lot better hung. Do your mule if you're that desperate. As far as I'm concerned, you've seen one puny little dangler, you've seen them all. They piss, they spit their dick snot on you, and they get in the way - that's about it."

The other girl licked her lips while continuing to examine Joshua intently, clearly disagreeing. The head girl frowned back at the papers. "What are we supposed to do?" she complained to the blond haired girl. "You want him standing beside you in the shower, leering while you soap up, with that thing of his sticking up like a flag? You want him pissing on the toilet seats?"

"They don't all piss on the toilet seats," the blond girl countered. "Some of them actually lift them up."

"Bullshit," the other girl said.

"Okay," the blond girl continued. "The we set some ground rules. Just for him. Like, he has to sit down on the toilets like the rest of us, so he won't piss on them. Or he can go in the stalls with his mule. And he has to keep his eyes to himself in the shower—look at the ground and not at us. He'd get the usual discipline in mess if he disobeys."

"And are you going to keep your eyes to yourself in the shower as well?" the head girl countered.

"That's different," the blond girl said with a toss of her head. "There's only one of him, and a whole bunch of us. It's only fair. And he's got to shower somewhere -- you know how The Rev is about cleanliness and Godliness and all that."

The head girl clearly was growing impatient. "We'll sort all that out later," she said. "For now, he can piss in his mule's stall. Maybe he can take his dumps there, too. I'll go talk to administration, maybe make him go up to a dorm for showers." She looked at Joshua, her eyes hard. "For now, stay away from the shower and toilet areas. The mess room is just before the showers, down that hall. We have our own mess, and our own rules. And don't go past the mess room door for now, down to where the showers and toilets are, or I'll have your balls at breakfast mess. You bunk with your mule. Go there and stay there until I come back and tell you what to do." She pursed her lips. "You're kinda puny," she said. "There's a lot to know about handling a mule."

"I know," Joshua had said. "But I know a lot of it. I used to be one. You guys weren't here then."

The blond girl looked at him more appraisingly. "Really," she said. "This gets more interesting all the time. I don't think we've ever had a drover who was a mule first."

"I don't think we've ever had a boy as a drover, period," the head girl put in. "Not in the year I've been here. I still think it must be a mistake. There's probably another Kemper and some dork brain assistant mixed them up." She stared into space a moment.

"It was The Doctor herself who sent me here," Joshua volunteered. The girl considered this a moment. The Doctor was well known to be number two in the hierarchy at the farm, right after The Reverend himself - if she had personally sent Joshua there, it couldn't be a mistake.

"I'm still going to check this out. I'm going up to admin right now. You might as well go check out your mule's tack, just in case we're stuck with you. Stall 46 is free. Even if we're stuck with you, I'm putting my foot down about the toilets and showers. I know what you people are like - think with your dorks. I'm not having it." She got up and stalked out.

"Don't mind her," the blond girl said. "She's a lez. I think most of them are lezzes. And she's got a bug up her butt about boys - she hates everything with a dangle. I guess it makes her a better drover - doesn't sympathize much with the stock. Now me, I think it might be cool to have a boy around her for a change. Besides the stock, I mean. Too much estrogen around here, if you ask me. Not enough firm things to hold onto in the night. Aside from the mules, of course - and face it, the mules are too tired and beaten down to be much fun." She gave him one more seductive look and then took off down a hall to a room full of shelves, piling up, in short order, the padded collar, reins, bit, and drover whip and paddle that made up his and his mule's equipment. She also handed him a well-thumbed booklet. "Drover Handbook" it said on the front of its smudged cover. "Better read this tonight," she said. "You're totally responsible for your mule. He gets in trouble, you get in trouble, too." She gave Joshua a meaningful look. "Punishments are done at mess, in front of the whole drover staff. Madison does most of them herself, and they're always totally naked. I think she likes stripping us naked and beating our butts and cunts. She'd probably especially like stripping you. Not that I'd mind if she did," she added thoughtfully. "But I'm sure you would." She pushed the pile of stuff at Joshua.

"Take my advice, and show your new mule who's boss right off the bat. As soon as he shows the first sigh of defiance, anything at all, give him a good crack or two right on the ol' balls with the paddle. That takes the fight out of them." She stopped short a moment. "Just remember, the smaller the balls, the harder you have to hit - it's kinda opposite what you'd think. The paddle handle automatically breaks if you smack their balls hard enough that it would actually cause permanent damage. You just pull the two halves away from each other when that happens to reset it, and give him another good one. The paddle makes it so you can't really do him serious damage down there." She paused. "But you were a mule," she said. "You probably know that already. You probably got cracked on the ol' cajones a few times yourself."

"A few," Joshua admitted. Actually the girl who'd been his drover had sported the improbable name of Abigail. He'd been dubbed with the name "Bodash," (mules were given demeaning animal names, names that were printed on their stalls and branded on their flanks), but Abigail had dubbed him "Balless," and that had been how he'd been addressed during his entire mule career. It hadn't been fair, really, because he'd had balls, no question about it. They dangled under his butt hole in plain sight while he worked. And she certainly cracked him on his with her paddle often enough. She didn't hit his balls hard though - she'd never made the paddle handle break. Some of the girls did, but most knew they didn't have to, boys' balls being what they were.

"You'll probably be fine, then," the blond girl had said. She turned to go. "Looking forward to seeing more of you tomorrow. You know, in the showers after dinner. Or standing at the toilets," she said, giving him a wink. "Lights out at 10," she added. "Big job tomorrow, so make sure you get up with the wake bell. Feed your animal, report to mess, gear up, and have him in full harness out front by first call. That's right after the end of breakfast warning bell." She strode away. Joshua couldn't help watching her hips sway as she did, and his dick immediately hardened, reminding him of the fact that he was perpetually horny these days. Well, there was nothing to be done about that, not if he wanted to stay in this choice gig. Carefully not letting anything touch his aching hard on, never knowing when he was being watched, after all, he gathered up his new equipment and his personal belongings and started down the long corridor full of stalls. Most of them were occupied this late in the day, with mules curled on the straw or being rubbed down by their drovers after the hard day's work, or already sound asleep from exhaustion. He could hear the showers running down the hall, drovers cleaning up after putting their mules down for the night. His thoughts went to naked girls in the showers, pert breasts dancing as they soaped their hair, and the ache in his crotch made him force the idea out of his mind again. He saw the big "46" on the stall door ahead of him, no name card in the slot yet, and opened it, padding in onto the thick, new straw.

He quickly found the remembered equipment locker and put the tack in it, then examined the stall. The mule pallet was against the back wall, a hard matt stuffed with straw, only about an inch of padding between the mule and the floor. He remembered how hard they were on your aching muscles, yet a mule was always so exhausted he slept well. But now he had the real bunk as the drover. His bunk was 5 feet above the straw-covered floor of the small stall, over the pallet for the mule, with a set of boards nailed on one leg to serve for climbing up there. He pulled himself up and found the small cubby on one end for his personal belongings. There was no worry about any of the mules taking a drover by surprise by attacking in the night or of one getting into his stuff, even if they had the inclination after a long day's work. The steps were not navigable with hooves, and the mules couldn't rise up on their hind legs without getting so dizzy they fell, let alone climb all the way up. He sat on the edge of the bunk and opened the manual, legs swinging as they hung over the side above where his new mule would live for the foreseeable future. He wondered what sort of boy he'd get. The mules ranged all over the board, from little guys like he'd been with tiny barely projecting genitals all the way to big guys with muscles and body hair that had to be shaved, with pendulous scrota that swung like a bull's between their legs as they worked, and dangling, obscene penises that swayed comically. He'd rather have a smaller guy, he decided, a guy he could easily intimidate. Besides, drovers sometimes spent a lot of time directly behind their mules, and there were few things more gross looking to Joshua that a big, ugly, pendulous scrotum and wrinkled penis swaying under a big, ugly butt hole. Better one of the little guys with tight scrota, invisible penises, and tight little holes that barely showed. Besides, the big guys got the toughest jobs, and that made failure and punishment for their drovers more likely.

He reflected on his journey to this surprisingly quiet place as he tried to read. It had been long ago, an eternity, it had seemed at times. As he'd acknowledged to the head girl, he'd started here as a mule himself 2 long years ago, when he'd been an undersized 11-year-old with red hair, a freckled nose, protruding front teeth that seemed too large for his weasel-like face, and gangly limbs attached to a stick thin body. He had been at the threshold of puberty then, barely starting the long journey to manhood. Now he still had the freckled nose—working in the sun had made it even more freckled. But his weasel face had gotten longer, his chin firmer, and his teeth didn't look so large any more. His limbs were even more gangly as he'd become taller. He had more muscle but he wasn't muscular, and he had no body hair at all, having been forced, like all the Peon boys, to submit to being shaved every few days. In fact, the last few weeks the ward leader had begun routinely shaving in his butt crack and around his butt hole, too, so he supposed he was even growing a hair or two back there. He was what the other boys called a "long timer"—a boy sentenced to the farm by the court in lieu of being sent to a juvenile facility until he was at least 16 or maybe even 18. He'd been there two years, but he was not getting out soon, no matter how well he behaved himself. Somehow, all the other kids knew who the long timers were, too.

So he was in for the duration - it wasn't a matter of getting out, it was a matter of survival, and he found out right away how one survived. As a mule, you pulled when they say "pull," and stopped when they said "stop," and slept whenever you could sleep, and ate what they fed you. When you had to piss, you held it as long as you could until you were in an acceptable location, and if you didn't you got paddled. Same thing was true when you had to shit. He didn't think at all in those days, he just survived moment by moment. But as a Peon, he quickly learned that the bulk of the boys who were group leaders were long timers like him - kids who'd been in the system for years and were eventually elevated to become part of the machinery of it. A lot of those boys and the few girls who had such power reveled in it, practicing cruelties with abandon, and The Reverend did nothing to stop that, perhaps even approving of it, because it seemed to be the cruel kids who got elevated. But mainly, they were survivors - kids who'd learned to do what the system required, and risen to power in it.

So he set a goal to at least move into a position of leadership, and he'd kept his eyes and ears opened, found out how things worked, and gradually improved his situation. He'd started as a mule and had been one for many months (He still didn't know just how many -- it was hard to keep track of the days when you were a mule - your life was mostly labor, exhaustion, punishment, pain, and utter humiliation, interspersed by periods of blissful sleep before a new dawn started the whole process again.) His drover, the afore-mentioned Abigail, had seemed resentful of boys and had possessed a habit of cracking him with the paddle or whip in delicate places even if he behaved himself. The skin between his legs, just above his balls, was a favorite of hers, and his then small balls had been a frequent target as well. She wasn't that hard on his balls, though, so that he wasn't paralyzed with agony the way she'd seen a few of the girls do to their bigger-balled mules, but the smacks on the balls still hurt a lot and ached for hours afterward, and his balls had swollen now and then from the mistreatment, and there had been nothing to do but take it. And she'd never hesitated to whip his flanks to make him pull harder, so his butt had been continuously scarred and sore during those times. Actually, to be fair, most of the kids at the farm had butts that were sore and healing most of the time - it was just part of the program.

Only 3 times had she subjected him to a prolonged disciplinary session, all three in his stall after the days' work. Each time she'd been dressed down in the mess room beforehand for his failures, and he'd borne the brunt of her wrath afterward. Two of those sessions had been with the paddle, her forcing him down on his stomach and beating his butt until the blisters covered him from the top of his butt crack to just above his knees. He'd actually been medically excused from work for a day after each of these, primarily because his thighs and butt were so stiff he couldn't even move. The other time, the last time, he'd been whipped, with his nose on the ground and his knees drawn up under his stomach, and that had been the worst, because she'd beaten not just his butt but his tender butt crack, his butt hole, the long expanse of skin between butt hole and balls, and then finally on his balls themselves. It was during that whipping that he'd found out that the drovers received their own discipline, as she ranted while beating his butt that she was never, never going to be stripped naked and paddled on her cunt again because of him. He'd heard other boys talking, and knew that a girl's cunt was what their front hole was called, and when he could think again, later, through the still insistent throbbing of his butt, balls, and butt hole, he had wondered at what such a paddling must be like for a girl. But he couldn't even picture not having a cock and balls there. Still, he thought grimly, that he'd like to paddle or whip all of them, including Abigail, on their cunts until they passed out from pain.

But things changes quickly after that, after he'd been a mule for what had seemed like an eternity. The first change had happened out of the blue just a few days after his whipping for getting Abigail in trouble by his failure to work hard enough. The two of them were in his stall, and she was currying him and rubbing him down after another hard day's work. She'd already rubbed him all over vigorously with the old rags used for that purpose, and had oiled his skin and wiped it, the usual procedure for removing excess dirt and filth from mules (mules never showered but they were rubbed and oiled, and the drovers were expected to keep them clean that way. Abigail had turned to working on his hindquarters, a job most of the girls seemed to dislike, as he stood on all fours patiently, flinching as her work reawakened butt blisters and the sharp pain they gave off. He'd had a messy poop that day, like most days (the food the mules were given encouraged loose bowels - it was considered part of the humiliation process for the mules), and his dirt had trailed down his balls, and she thus had to oil his genitals well and towel them repeatedly to get him clean enough to pass muster the following morning. His balls were still tender from being whipped, even though she hadn't hit that hard, and she was, for a change, taking his pain into account, rubbing his scrotum more gently than usual. Not surprisingly, he had a raging hard on from the soft, gentle stimulation so close to his penis. He was horny most of the time, it seemed like - a combination of his pubescent state and the complete prohibition to masturbation that almost all the kids at The Farm labored under. When the dried poop on his scrotum didn't come off easily, Abigail had oiled it and his butt hole over and over, and he'd gotten harder and harder, and then, without warning, he'd done something he'd never done before - he'd squirted right there, without his penis even being touched, cumming all over his stomach and the straw under him, spraying thin, watery droplets with abandon as his butt contracted all on its own. Abigail and been shocked, and had fallen back, then frowned and reached for her paddle, determined to beat this latest insult out of her recalcitrant charge. But a deep voice had stopped her and startled them both, and only then did they both realize that The Reverend himself had been standing for some time outside the stall, watching her work on him.

"Do not strike the boy," he intoned loudly, stepping forward and grasping her hand before she could land a crippling blow on his dripping penis. "He has been touched by God, and has been shown the way. He is one of the blessed. It's a sign that he's ready to move on in his spiritual awakening." He'd picked up a clean towel and handed it to Abigail. "Wipe the holy fluid off him and bring him to the clinic immediately." He'd turned and stalked away. Abigail, acting like she was suddenly afraid to touch the boy she'd been handling intimately for months, had made him lie on his back and gingerly wiped him dry, handling his now sated penis like it might explode at any time. Then she'd herded him out the door into the darkness and up to the clinic building, where she found The Reverend talking to The Doctor. Just as they came up, he was saying, "…the child has been touched by God. He has begun the process of redemption. Clearly I was drawn there, at that time in that place, to witness this sign of God's holy grace. It is time for him to move on in his spiritual quest."

Joshua, not having any idea what all this meant, was guided on all fours into the clinic, and for the first time since the last hand and foot inspection, his hooves had been removed and he'd been placed under the shower, with Abigail ordered to strip to her panties and join him, soaping him from head to toe. Numb with confusion, Joshua still was able to appreciate Abigail's pert breasts as she worked on him, swaying and bobbing with her movements, and he became hard again almost immediately but did not squirt himself this time. After he was dried, Abigail was dismissed, and he was picked up by The Reverend and The Doctor and placed on an examination table. He was given a thorough physical, followed by a series of painful injections to undo the steps that had led to his transformation to mule to start with, along with a chalky drink that began the return of his power of speech and ability to balance on two legs.

A week of intensive physical therapy on his fingers and hands had followed, and he'd learned to walk upright again and talk in the rare situations where he needed to, and manipulate things, and then Joshua had graduated to the Peons, the group of children who labored in the fields, the sheds, and the barns of the farm half the time and took academic classes to satisfy the State Auditors the other half. This had been a vast improvement over being a mule - you could talk, for starters, although you weren't allowed to, not much. And you could wear clothes, although, with the exception of shoes, which were necessary in order to work, peons started out butt naked and had to earn clothing as a result of good behavior. It had taken him weeks just to earn the right to wear a loose shirt that extended just below his navel and didn't conceal his genitals or his butt at all, but finally donning that shirt had been sweet, and, after months when he'd finally earned a pair of shorts to go with it and no longer had to work with his genitals on display, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

But it was still no picnic being a peon. You could get spanked for every little thing, or nothing at all, by the group leaders, your fellow peons, or by The Reverend himself. You still couldn't jerk off, or even touch yourself down there, even though only your sheer willpower was all that prevented you for doing just that - you weren't wearing hooves that rendered your hands useless anymore. And the group leaders, he quickly discovered, could sometimes impose punishments on you that also involved their own sexual satiation, and most did, frequently. Joshua had learned that he was fortunate in one respect - his gangly look, his pimples, and his weasel face meant he wasn't a "Pretty Boy," and as a result he hadn't caught any particular group leader's fancy and been subjected to their special attention as some boys were. He'd had to kneel behind other children and kiss their anuses a number of times, and had been forced to kneel in front of a boy twice and orally pleasure him - the first time his own ward leader right after he'd been assigned to his ward, the second time an overseer who didn't like his work. Both boys were wet cummers and both had cum in his mouth, which was disgusting, but he'd survived, spitting and gagging, but he'd survived. And somehow he managed to avoid having to take a boy's cock up his butt even once.

Oh, he'd come close - really close. An overseer who seemed to find more of a need to discipline boys anally than most of the supervisors had singled Joshua out for attention one day, riding him about his work until the boy could finally justify punishing him. He culminated by giving Joshua the task of moving logs to heavy for him to lift, then pronounced Joshua as deserving of the ultimate punishment when he didn't comply. He'd made Joshua, heart pounding in fear that it was finally happening to him, assume the traditional position for boys receiving anal punishment, legs apart, hands on knees, butt jutting outward, and had raised Joshua's shirt and lowered his dearly purchased shorts. Even though he'd been nude for months as a mule and for months more as a Peon before he'd earned clothes, Joshua had still felt embarrassed being stripped - his genitals were bigger, after all, and there were girls in the work detail, too.

The boy had followed the usual procedure for butt discipline, apparently there were rules of some kind about it that the overseers and ward leaders knew, because they all did the same things. He'd spit copiously on his fingers and pressed the spit to Joshua's now open butt hole, rubbing it in, then had spit again on his index finger and worked the spit into Joshua's rectum, rudely forcing his hole open. Joshua had moaned in fear and discomfort, knowing a much bigger object would invade him after this preliminary assault but already feeling violated. The boy, enjoying his fear at the preliminaries, had taken his time, withdrawing the fingers and then spitting on them and sticking them in and reaming Joshua's hole open some more. Then he'd moved up close behind Joshua and positioned him so he faced the rest of the kids, all watching warily or gleefully, depending on the child. He'd spit on his fingers once more and worked them into Joshua's butt hole painfully, while, with his other hand, he'd unzipped himself and taken his penis out behind Joshua, it's hardness pressing Joshua's buttock and feeling huge while still working his fingers in the boy's butt. (The boys all did this, pulling their penises out only when they were close behind their victims, so that little of their own genitals showed as they punished them- Joshua and the other kids had speculated that the overseers and ward leaders weren't the best hung of the boys and really didn't want to confirm that publically, especially to whatever girls were watching, a hypothesis that seemed to be confirmed when all the boys shared the showers).

Joshua had tensed, knowing that they boy would withdraw his fingers in a moment and then he'd be rammed, hard, with a stiff, thick penis and would be brutally humped until the boy came (quickly, he prayed). He waited for the hot, stretching pain and the humiliation of the violation. But then everything had changed, quite unexpectedly. The boy had twisted his fingers just so inside of Joshua prior to removing them, hitting something really sensitive inside him. Joshua's body had taken over, with the pent up horniness of a boy in puberty who couldn't touch himself, ever, and he'd suddenly cum, squirting a spray of droplets in every direction as his body shuddered and shook and his butt contracted out of his control over, and over again, like he was humping an invisible ghost boy's butt himself.

The overseer had looked at the squirting semen spraying on the ground in dumb surprise, then pulled his zipper back up and stepped back, reaching around his back for the whip he kept tucked in his belt behind him. "Why you disgusting little pervert!" he squealed, raising the whip over the still-spurting Joshua's back, ready to whip his butt hole to a pulp.

"No, don't!" a ward leader screamed, grabbing the overseer's hands. A second ward leader joined him. "You want to go to the cock stocks?" the second boy added.

"Let me go! I'm gonna whip his balls," the overseer had said, fighting them.

"You can't!" the first boy had screamed. "You saw what he did! He's one of the blessed! The Reverend will roast your balls for dinner!"

He'd pointed to Joshua's dripping cock. The overseer was livid, but he'd controlled himself and stepped away. "Clean yourself up," he'd said angrily, stalking way. The other children had stared as Joshua had been left to wipe himself off as best he could with leaves and grass. The overseer hadn't stayed sexually frustrated for long - he had taken his anger out on another boy shortly thereafter, and Joshua could still remember that boy's screams and the overseer's thrusting hips driving into the boy. He felt guilty for a while - that boy's punishment was to have been his. But he got over it. Better other kids than him. Besides, after that, none of the ward leaders or the overseers had even suggesting giving him anal punishment, although he did have to submit to the oral stuff and he'd been spanked and paddled a lot, just like the other boys, and the girls also when they joined in joint projects with the boys. When he'd tried to ask other children why he was not longer a target, he got the cold shoulder most of the time. Twice, though, other boys sneered something about him being "blessed," and "Reverend's little pet" which didn't seem fair, in that he got spanked and paddled as much as any of them. But casual conversation was generally forbidden, anyway, and the other kids seemed to treat him differently after the incident, and he finally gave up trying to understand it.

And as his situation improved, Joshua had learned to work hard even when he didn't feel like it, to nod in agreement when he was given orders, to take his licks like a man when he was punished whether he deserved it or not, and to keep his hands off his genitals at all times, especially when The Reverend or one of his minions and toadies were around. The Reverend had a real bug up his butt about boys touching themselves at all down there, let alone jerking off. So he was careful not to, and he learned to watch without comment when boys who were less careful suffered dire punishments, and to join in when ordered to strike those boys on butt or genitals, and even to lower his pants and bend over when another boy was ordered to kiss his own butt. Then another boy also had a spontaneous emission while being spanked, and the spanking had stopped immediately and the boy had been labeled as "blessed" also, and Joshua had suddenly worked it out --although The Reverend detested masturbation, he seemed to think that cumming without being touched on the genitals was some sort of heavenly sign of favor, and the fact that Joshua had done it twice apparently made him one of The Reverend's pets. Well, why not take advantage of it, he finally decided. He'd make his record as clean as possible - obey the overseers and ward leaders slavishly, work hard, and, most important of all, no matter how horny he got, never, ever touch his own dick or any other kid's dick, (except if he was being punished that way) or any parts of any of the girls, and wait to be noticed. And it appeared he had.

He knew he'd finally made it just recently, the third time he'd cum spontaneously. This time, he was on a large work detail clearing brush in some swampland. It was hard, exhausting work, and an overseer looking for someone to punish had singled out his entire ward, who'd been taking a quick break just as he passed by. He'd ordered all of them to raise their tunics or lower their short pants and bend over with their bare butts sticking out, and had procured a switch to beat their butts with, starting down the line. As he finished the second child and started on the third, the one next to Joshua, The Reverend suddenly materialized as if out of the air, standing some distance behind the boys, watching with apparent approval. (He had a way of doing that, The Reverend did. He'd just suddenly be there, and you wondered how that had happened. It kept the kids on edge). Giving the child he was working on a few more extra hard licks with the switch that raised thin red lines visible even on that boy's almost chocolate brown buttocks, he turned to Joshua, looping an arm around his waist to steady him as he was beaten, his hand lightly brushing Joshua's now longer penis quite inadvertently. Joshua, who'd been developing some serious pee urgency during the break and was planning on taking a quick pee as soon as they started working again and he could do it without a dozen kids snickering at him, had a pretty powerful hard-on going as a result. The quick, unseen brush of his penis, coupled with the rising arousal that comes with anticipating an imminent and probably painful whipping, meant that Joshua and suddenly been overtaken by powerful primal urges, and, just as the boy raised his hand to bring the switch down, hard, on his defenseless buttocks, he erupted, his dick squirting spatters of hot droplets all over the ground under him, over his thighs, and even onto his shirt.

The Reverend was on the overseer in two steps, his powerful hand restraining the boy's first blow. "Move on to the next one, lad," he said in a clear, resonant voice, the voice that had old ladies signing their pension checks over directly to him. "The Lord has given us a sign this one is to be spared." He'd prodded Joshua. "Raise your rainment and come with me, lad," he'd said, turning and walking away rapidly. Joshua had been forced to pull his pants up quickly, without even having a chance to clean his cum off himself, and run to catch up.

They'd gone to the Reverend's office, and for a moment Joshua was petrified that he was about to receive one of The Reverend's legendary in-office punishments. But he'd sat Joshua down in the chair opposite his desk, the one reserved for adults, and had sat at his own and leaned back, studying the sweaty, disheveled, and cum-spattered boy. Joshua had found his steady gaze incredibly uncomfortable, especially as he could still feel the stickiness of his cum on his belly and legs and genitals. "You don't belong with the others," The Reverend had finally said.

You belong with the blessed. This is the third time The Lord has given us a sign. And like the three signs he gave Moses, this one cannot be ignored. I will find you a place. It may take a few days, but I will find you a place. You will join the rest of the blessed here at my farm, doing God's work." He got up and strode to a file cabinet, pulling out a drawer and riffling through files until he found what he wanted, extracted it, and strode back to his desk with it.

"Kemper, right?" he said. Joshua had nodded warily. The Reverend studied the file for a moment. "You had fallen far, boy, before you came to us," he finally said. "But those who've fallen farthest are often the ones our Lord Jesus Christ gives his greatest blessings." He fixed Joshua with a steely glare that would have frozen deer in their tracks and made lions run for the hills. "Do you ever touch yourself for lust, boy? Give in to the dreaded and damned sin of Onan? Or do you keep your parts pure, as God decreed, and await his holy blessing?"

"But your staff rises, nonetheless," The Reverend persisted.

Joshua's heart had almost stopped. Was it evil to get hard? Was he going to be punished for something he couldn't control? But he couldn't lie, not to this man's steely glare. "Yes, sir," he said in almost a whisper. "I... I can't help it. It just gets hard. But I don't touch it."

"And well it is that you don't!" The Reverend thundered. "It is the road to perdition!" He stopped suddenly and leaned back in his chair, smiling at Joshua. Somehow, that smile was more chilling than his angry visage would have been. And then he did something that shocked Joshua to the core. "Do you like ice cream, son?" he asked genially.