The new ranch-hand finally gets his chance to yield the whip and gets a little carried away earning himself a final punishment.....

Taking the Whip - Part 10
by Whiplash235
Series: Taking the Whip
Art by Neil Bruce at

taking-the-whipThis whole scenario was almost a repeat of my first day on Steve’s farm, with a few differences.  I had had no idea what was going on; I had been completely confused as Nhlanhla and Sikhumbuzo hustled me into the barn and even after they pulled the shirt off me and tied my wrists and ankles I still thought it might be some sort of a joke.  Plus, I had been strangely excited at the way I was stripped to the waist and spread-eagled out.  By the time Steve had brushed my bare back with his terrible whip I had finally accepted what was happening.  Those five minutes I had spent gazing at Nhlanhla’s sleek body and at the scars of at least one brutal whipping that covered Sikhumbuzo’s muscular brown torso, as well as my unexpected reactions to their caresses, awoke feelings in me that I had known nothing about.  The first few cuts of Steve’s whip had been the beginning of a nightmare of pain, but I had endured ten lashes, and even more when Steve left me alone with my two athletic tormentors.  The real shock for me had been the way my unruly member had responded.

Thobani though had witnessed two whippings, albeit from a distance; he had watched Jabulani writhing while Nhlanhla and Sikhumbuzo played their whips across his back, and he had seen Frank stripped naked and succumb to a cruel whipping.  He must have known exactly what would happen if he hung around here.  He had watched at least two victims suffer under the lash and instead of running as far away as possible, he had let himself be caught trespassing.

“…I do want to see what it’s like getting a punishment like that.”

So he was getting what he wanted and I was playing the part of Sikhumbuzo.  I felt Thobani’s erection pushing into my hand and I stroked the shaft of his penis, enjoying the sensation of his smooth back flush against my chest and stomach as he breathed deeply.  I stepped back and gazed for a moment at Thobani’s lithe form stretched out between the restraints.  There were beads of sweat trickling down his bare back and he was still taking deep breaths, trying, I supposed, to prepare himself for what was about to happen.  I could have told him that nothing prepared you for the first few cuts of the whip, though I understood the turmoil of being naked from the waist up and spread-eagled out, the strange excitement at being helplessly vulnerable, at the mercy of athletic youths who were similarly stripped and eager to begin testing your endurance with the lash.  I glanced over at Nhlanhla, whose dark muscled torso was gleaming as he picked up one of the whips and beckoned me to come over.  I had experienced his wicked caresses when he came to my bed and we lay together, two naked youths enjoying one another’s bodies; I had writhed as he and Sikhumbuzo cut my body with their whips…Nhlanhla was a difficult character to understand.  He was looking at our victim with an expression of wry amusement on his face.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he said, “and we are very ready to administer your first punishment.  In fact,” he continued, looking at me as I approached him, “I think we’ll both work on your back today.  When the whip is damp with your sweat – and blood – it has a special sound…and a deeper bite,” he finished with a cruel smile as Thobani pulled uselessly against the restraints.

I took the proffered whip, my heart beating fast as I gripped the handle.  It was quite heavy, but I was expecting that; I uncoiled the long leather thong with a flick of my wrist and watched it extend towards one of Thobani’s bare feet.  I had felt the lash cut across my bare torso nearly forty times in two different sessions and I still did not understand how the almost unbearable pain caused my member to become unbearably erect until I wanted the whipping to continue.  I looked at the youth stripped of his shirt and spread-eagled between the metal rings and the wooden pegs.  I could now see the beads of sweat running down his muscled brown chest and dripping to his stomach; his erection was clearly jutting against his trousers; he was watching me and glancing at the whip in my hand with a very familiar expression on his face. Fear of the pain he knew he was about to endure battled with a terrible excitement at being the focus of two youths whose bodies were gleaming as they cheerfully prepared to administer the lash.  If he wanted to experience what the whip had to offer then I was quite happy to be one of those laying it across his bare back.

Nhlanhla and I took up our positions and we each unravelled the whips we were carrying.  Thobani’s head was swivelling from side to side as he glanced behind him, trying to check which one of us was going to deliver the first blow.  He was pulling at the restraints involuntarily and I enjoyed the sight of his bare body twisting this way and that.  I looked at Nhlanhla who was standing on my right with his whip dangling by his side; he grinned and nodded.  I swung the whip behind me and took a bead on our victim’s smooth brown torso; my whip whistled through the air and thudded across the middle of Thobani’s back, cutting a red weal on the smooth brown skin.  I watched his body arch forward as though the blow was pushing him helplessly against the restraints, but he didn’t make a sound.  Nhlanhla delivered his first stroke: his whip swished through the air and again there was the sound of leather striking skin; the force of the blow drew a strangled cry from our helpless victim as his whole body arched once again.  I was slightly disappointed that Thobani cried out for Nhlanhla but not for me, so I tried to put a bit more force into my second stroke; his body arched in that oh so familiar way when the whip struck, but the only sounds were leather on skin and his body twisting against the restraints.  When Nhlanhla loosed his whip across Thobani’s back for the second time, the youth gasped loudly and clearly.  I glanced over at Nhlanhla, whose smile as he flicked the whip to one side seemed to say that I shouldn’t worry since this after all was my first time administering the lash.  I gripped my whip determinedly, swung it behind me and took careful aim; there was a satisfactory swish followed by a cruel thud, cutting another red weal exactly where I had aimed; Thobani’s body acted in the usual way, arching forward and pushing against the ropes that held his wrists and ankles, but still no cry of pain.

This was confusing me, especially when Nhlanhla’s cut produced another deep moan from the youth.  I thought back to my own punishments.  When I was stripped and spread-eagled out for the whippings, writhing helplessly as sweat dripped down my body, I hadn’t remembered any meaningful difference of the level of pain according to who was wielding the whip, I had simply endured the cutting and slashing of my body as it became a bright and terrible burning that stiffened my member with each stroke searing across my bare torso.  Was Thobani somehow experiencing my blows as lighter than Nhlanhla’s?  It certainly seemed so, because my fourth stroke cut straight across his bare skin and he writhed mightily between the metal rings and wooden pegs, but he only cried out when Nhlanhla’s whip streaked along his back.  Or maybe, I thought to myself as I drew the whip behind me and gazed at the young lad who was twisting and turning helplessly as he waited for the next blow, maybe he’s trying very hard not to cry out at all but he simply cannot stop himself every second stroke.  I wasn’t very happy with that explanation, though I did enjoy the sight of Thobani’s brown body arching fiercely when my whip streaked along his back, cutting another line of red.

Nhlanhla delivered his fifth stroke; it sounded different, as though it had cut deeper or something and produced a sobbing gasp from Thobani, who was beginning to sag against the restraints.  Head down, arms held up by the ropes that tied his wrists to the metal rings on the wooden beam, he had endured ten lashes and he didn’t look like he could take many more.  Nhlanhla put out his hand to say that I should wait and he walked round the youth and put his whip on the table.

“The punishment is fifteen lashes, but let’s see how he has taken the first ten,” he said.

I realized I was breathing heavily and sweating; my member was also very erect and for a moment I imagined going up to Thobani, pulling down his trousers and thrusting deeply into him while he hung there.  I did nothing though, for I knew that Nhlanhla was in charge and if I did something he didn’t like, I might find myself tied up alongside Thobani – a thought which made my member grow a little stiffer.  In fact, I was almost tempted to annoy, because I suddenly had the idea that if I were to experience a whipping now, breathing heavily and sweat dripping down my body, I could be spurting freely before five strokes were laid across my back.  I became very erect imagining myself spread-eagled out next to Thobani, my ankles and wrists tied to the other set of metal rings and wooden pegs, sweat dripping down my bare body, while Nhlanhla, sleek and gleaming, took up position behind us with the whip in his hand…

I tried to put such thoughts to one side and watched Nhlanhla move to stand in front of Thobani.  I could not see exactly what Nhlanhla was doing, but I could guess from the intent look on his face as he pulled at the front of Thobani’s trousers and the way the lad was uselessly trying to twist away from him.  I knew that Thobani was not wearing any shorts, so Nhlanhla was probably balancing his erect member in his hands, stroking and caressing while his victim hung there helplessly.  How well I remembered that feeling: my back burning like fire after ten cuts, and then Nhlanhla took my erection, stroking the shaft of my penis and tickling the tip until I was almost delirious with the pleasure and the pain.

Nhlanhla looked over at me.  “You know,” he said, “this guy is even more erect than you were after ten lashes from Steve.  Another five strokes and he’ll probably be releasing his load, I’m telling you!”

I said nothing, though my mind – and my body – seemed to be rushing in two different directions at the same time.  On the one hand, the idea of administering further punishment on Thobani made my member stand up to attention and plead that I be allowed to continue testing him with the whip; unfortunately though, the thought of Thobani climaxing under the lash sparked a certain jealousy, and I found myself imagining an alternative.  What if I were spread-eagled out alongside Thobani?  Nhlanhla could enjoy the two of us squirming as he applied the lash to each of us in turn, and then it would be a challenge to see which one of us came first.  My head was urging me to continue whipping Thobani, but my thickening member was voting in favour of the two of us spread-eagled out and helplessly vulnerable while Nhlanhla’s whip tested the both of us, until one or the other experienced everything the lash had to offer.  It was a very tempting image, but in the end I decided that I was playing the part of Sikhumbuzo.

“So, shall I carry on with the punishment?” I asked, flicking the whip to one side.

Nhlanhla was still grinning.  “Sure,” he said, “let’s see how he handles five more strokes.  Lay them on as hard as you can.”

Thobani had revived a bit, probably as a result of Nhlanhla’s attention to his erect member, but his head jerked back and he struggled against the restraints.  “Please,” he said, “I’ve taken ten…”

“And you still have to accept another five,” said Nhlanhla cheerfully.

His pleas were music to my ears.  I took careful aim, swinging the whip behind me and then stepping forward as I delivered a vicious stroke across the middle of his back.  The force of the blow flung him against the restraints, and he cried out as the whip cut across his bare back – this was what I was hoping for.  I swung the whip behind me while Thobani twisted this way and that and delivered another cut; he cried out again, and I could hear for myself that the lash was cutting deeper.  A part of me was horrified at the joy I was experiencing as he cried out, while another part of me gleefully flicked the whip behind me and took careful aim.  My third stroke caught the youth across the middle of his back again, running slightly downwards so that the whip bit even more deeply and Thobani arched violently against the cruel blow.

“Please…No…”  Thobani was writhing helplessly now, twisting against the restraints that kept his brown body spread-eagled for the punishment.  There was nothing he could do, of course: his wrists were tied fast to the metal rings above his head; his ankles were firmly fixed to the wooden pegs; his wiry body was mine to enjoy.  I aimed my next stroke, catching him across the small of his back, and he moaned in pain, struggling mightily now against the restraints that held him fast.  I had experienced two severe whippings; I had felt the lash streaking across my bare body while I was stripped and helplessly spread-eagled out for the cruel punishment; now I was on the other side, wielding the whip that cut another victim to ribbons, watching him writhe to the rhythm of my own lash across his bare back.  My member was fiercely erect as I delivered the fifth stroke, cutting Thobani again across the middle of his back, causing him to arch his body helplessly against the cruel blow.

“You should stop now,” said Nhlanhla.  He was standing to one side of Thobani, his arms on his hips and a huge grin on his face, though I was more aware of his bare chest and muscled stomach.

I actually pleaded.  “Just a couple more,” I replied, “after all, Sikhumbuzo laid seven or eight on me that day.”

“I have very strict instructions from Steve…”   But I wasn’t listening; instead I drew the whip behind me and it hissed through the air yet again, streaking across Thobani’s bare torso and drawing another desperate, ‘Please stop,’ as his body arched again.  I could feel the sweat dripping down my own torso, and I was determined to deliver at least one more stroke.  “…that I am to administer 20 lashes…”  The number 20 was a warning, I think, although it was too late, because my final stroke was already swishing through the air; it struck Thobani just below his shoulders with that familiar thud of leather on skin.  The heavy leather whip rested at my side, and I was breathing heavily as I finally listened to Nhlanhla completing his sentence.  “…if you don’t stop when I tell you to,” Nhlanhla finished cheerfully.

“Well, you didn’t stop,” he continued, “so it looks like you’re going to be spread-eagled out shirtless soon enough; to be honest I’m looking forward to it,” he ended with a cruel smile that turned my stomach into water.

“So; do it now,” I challenged him, though my voice was hoarse, “you know I can take 20 lashes.”

“Oh, sorry, did I not explain properly, what Steve actually said was: at least 20 strokes…whatever it takes.  He’s curious to know if the whip really can make a person climax.  I’m hoping it will just be the two of us; there’s something special about a one on one whipping.”

I coiled the whip and walked towards Nhlanhla.  I was aghast at what I had just done, and I realized that Nhlanhla was telling me that I was going to be tested horribly.  When I drew alongside Thobani the youth was sagging against the restraints that still kept his bare torso stretched tight; the front of his body was smooth and unmarked; I knew his back was burning like fire, and I could hear his ragged breaths.  His member was still erect though, protruding from his open trousers and sticking up towards his navel, seemingly begging for some attention.  I took his rampant sex in my left hand and stroked the tip of his penis; he groaned helplessly, involuntarily thrusting his fierce erection towards me.  I glanced over at Nhlanhla, and despite the fact that he had just promised that I was going to suffer the lash for a third time, we grinned at each other like two schoolboys.  Still holding Thobani’s thick member in my left hand, I let the whip drop to the floor and began to stroke his long shaft with my right.  Thobani moaned, stretching his body in a way that must have increased the pain along his back, while pushing himself eagerly into my hands.  His bare torso writhed, sweat pouring down his chest and stomach; incoherent sounds that originated deep in his gut were coming out of his mouth, and I could feel that he was about to burst.  A moment or two later he did just that; he emitted an incomprehensible cry of pain mixed with too much pleasure; I felt a powerful load streaking along his member, and then it erupted hotly into my waiting hands.  I also came, helplessly emptying myself into my trousers, and then I fell against him, leaning against his wiry chest, careful though not to touch his scarred back.

This farm was too confusing.  As I gently pushed myself away from Thobani, I realized that I had just blown my load without anyone touching me.  Is this how it might happen when the whip caressed my bare body for a third time?


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