Please refer to previous Go West stories for background information. It has been a while since this series was written about, and I am continuing due to your kind requests.
Jer found himself walking once again along the dusty trail. He was headed West, always West. His time with the preacher had at least put some meat on his bones, but as was his wont, he left with nothing but the clothes on his back. Slowly he walked, placing one foot in front of the other, step by step he moved on. His stomach was empty, and his spirits were low, but he knew that he had best put as much distance between himself and Snake as he possibly could. Whenever he heard horses, he would hide in the underbrush, always afraid - well, perhaps cautious would be a better way of putting it. Soon, dusk was upon him, and he looked around for a warm place to spend the night. While it was still summertime, the weather at night was nippy, and he had no real shelter.
He heard the sound of children laughing, and turned down a well worn path. His journey brought him into a clearing, where a school house of sorts had been built from logs. He knew it was a schoolhouse because of the crowd of kids running around the yard, and the large bell on a pole outside the door. He was just about to join the group, hoping that somebody would offer him some food, when a red faced teacher emerged from the building, pulling a gangly blonde haired boy by his ear. He yelled something to the kids, who immediately shut up, and walked toward the bell post, suddenly silent, very silent. Jer scurried behind a clump of bushes, and crawled inside until he was near the edge, and could cautiously peer through the opening. His time on the road had taught him, sometimes painfully taught him, to be very cautious with strangers. The teacher handed the boy something, and he started walking directly for Jer's clump of bush. Jer knew he couldn't move, or he would be discovered. He tried desperately to slink down, to become one with the dirt, as the boy approached even closer. Jer could see that he was about his own age, perhaps a bit taller. He wore a type of bib overall, with no shirt or shoes. It was apparent that he was now coming to the bushes Jer was under. He prayed that the boy would not see him, and hid himself as best he could.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the boy cutting several large switches with a knife. He watched as the boy turned, switches in hand. At that time, he was able to exhale the breath that he had been holding for what seemed like an hour. As the boy walked away, he yelled out "Mister Baker! Mister Baker! There's a kid hiding in the bush here." Jer cringed. Now that all eyes were on his hiding place, his chance of leaving undetected had just vanished. Thoughts raced through his mind. Could he run and get away? Possibly. Could he just lay still and hope nobody would check the bush? Not likely. Or, could he just stand and introduce himself to this Mr. Baker, and explain that he was just passing by, and wondered if he could cut some wood or something for some food. Yes! That was it. Slowly he stood, and then walked from the bushes, following the kid with the rods as he walked toward the bell post and the waiting teacher. He could see all eyes were on him, and that most of the children seemed to express fear in their eyes.
"Who are you young man, and what are you doing spying there? How did you know that there was going to be a whippin'? How long have you been there? Jer recognized by the tone of the man's voice that these were not just pleasant conversational words, but rather confrontational words. He swallowed, and approached the man. "Sir, I am sorry to interrupt you. My name is Jer, and I am heading West to live with my uncle. I mean no harm. I was hoping to find some food. I would cut wood, or whatever I could do to earn some food. Sir!" Jer was proud of his speech, and looked closely into the face of the man who was dressed in a dark suit, notwithstanding the extreem heat of the area. The man looked him up and down. "You are not from these parts, I can tell that. Take a seat there on the ground. I'm about to teach Master Blake here some manors. After I finish, you and I shall have a discussion." Jer sat down, not really wanting to watch the blonde kid get his seat warmed, but feeling that he had no other choice if he was to keep on the good side of this teacher, who hopefully would feed him. Then the teacher said something that caused Jer's blood to cool. "Watch real closely, I ain't going to repeat myself when I discuss spying with you."
He took the switches from the blonde boy, and stared at him. The boy pulled the shoulder straps off of his one piece overall type thing, and they fell from his slender frame. As with most boys from the era, he wore nothing underneath. His brilliantly white bottom bore marks of a recent strapping, as the boy went to the bell post, and reached up and grabbed ahold of two pegs which stuck out from the side. Jer had not noticed those pegs before. The boy was almost on tip toes, as he stood there in the fading sunlight. His smallish buttocks alternately clenched, and loosened, in a kind of rhymnthic dance. A dance of, well of pain Jer supposed.
Without saying anything, the man took a large switch and swished it across the boy's bottom. The boy made no sound, but his bottom spoke for him, as the switch left its mark, a rather livid line which bisected the buttocks, across both cheeks. Soon a sister stroke landed just below the first, then another, just below. The whipping continued until the entire small buttock area was a maze of red stripes, some with tiny droplets of blood on them. The boy, stoic at first, was now crying out, a cry that caused pain to the onlookers. One girl, younger than Jer, appeared to swoon as she watched. She fell over into the dirt, her rough cut skirt rumpling up, showing that she wore shoes and stockings along with the skirt on her lower half, but nothing eles. The teacher turned, and walking with his switch, pushed the girl over onto her stomach with his foot. He then stood at her head, and began to whip her bottom, over and over, the stripes seeming to bite right into the cleft of her buttocks. The pain caused her to awake, and her hands flew to her bottom, where they too were cut by the switch. Rather than stop to allow her to mover her hands, he just continued to whip. Finally, she moved her hands, and screamed as stroke after stroke landed inside her bottom cleft.
The man turned back to the boy, took another switch, and, standing behind him, placed the tip of the switch on the ground between his legs. He lifted the switch suddenly, lashing into the heretofor unmarked under buttock area. The boy, as if on clue, moved his legs apart, and accepted the visit of the viscious switch.
All too soon, the teacher turned to Jer, and said. "I don't know what you are doing trespassing here, but I do know that you are going to learn about trespassing, and learn it well. He walked toward Jer, who had turned, ready to run, only to be blocked by the older boys in the crowd. The man pulled him to the bell pole, and told him he had five seconds to strip off his clothes, or they would be torn off of him. Jer realized that there were no other clothes awaiting him. Nothing else to wear. Wearily, he unfastened his shirt and removed it, then, turning from the front row of girls, he dropped his trousers and stepped from them. The teacher pulled him around, and the snickers of the girls, and surprised murmors of the boys showed that they had apparently never seen a circumcised boy before. "Are there no other Jews in this vast country?" Jer asked himself. He felt his head turn red as the teacher studied his small appendage, saying nothing. He was pushed to the pole, and without a word, grabbed the two pegs. Nothing happened, and it was not until he turned his head to check if this was a joke, that the first stroke landed. It was like a hot poker across his butt, right at the bottom edge of his buttocks, alone the little line that appeared whenever he would stand up straight. It was the famous "sit spot" area, and he knew that he would feel this stroke whenever he sat down, at least for a while. He was surprised when the second stroke hit in the same area, right atop the first, and was frightened when the third, then fourth, then fifth stokes all hit in the same spot. He could feel a warm liquid trickling down, and assumed it was either blood, or sweat, but feared it was blood. The next series of ten strokes walked up his buttocks, followed by ten down his buttocks, and five more over the already inflamed sit spot.
The whipping stopped. Jer was moaning, holding onto the pegs for dear life, his face against the rough wood of the pole. He felt a tapping on the inside of his thighs. "NO!" he cried out. Surely this stranger wouldn't whip him there! The stroke increased in intensity, moving higher, as the boy stood, unmoving. Suddenly, the switch left, then travelled up, between his legs, and smashed into his scrotum. Oh, the pain. He screamed (and opened his legs wide). The whipping continued, the switch visiting the area from his scrotum to his anus, called the preineum, it was an area that Jer never realized was a sensitive as it was, as the switch found it's mark, travelling in and out, landing atop his puckered back hole, and attempting an entrance. It was if a thousand bees had decided to take up residence in his butt hole, and Jer could only scream.
Soon, the teacher left, and walked into the school, followed by the students. Jer was left outside, hanging onto the pegs, miserably hanging, tears and snot running down the rough wood, his bottom a mass of scrapes and tiny cuts. It was not his bottom that bothered him the most, though, it was his heretofore untouched back hole. A close observer would have seen it suck in, and pucker out in time with his breathing. Finally, he pushed himself back, found his shirt and put it on. He tried to put his trousers on, but the rough canvas type material was just to terrible a thing to place against lacerated flesh. Putting them over his arm, he slowly walked away, his dusty body streaked with rivulets of sweat, and some pink blood.
He realized with each step that he was hungry, so very hungry.
Jer