Summer Job Part 2


by Thomas Hobbes <Tomhobbes_98@yahoo.com>

Rob returned to the barn and stood in the back door watching as Calvin McCann pumped the big bellows by the forge. The smithy pulled a long piece of iron from the hot coals to check it. It was still not malleable enough so back into the orange glowing charcoals it went.

"Youll find your clothes back in bedroom in the trunk by the window. Thats what youll wear all the time, son." McCann spoke to him without ever turning his head from the hot fire as he continued to pump the bellows. "And you can stow all your things in that trunk till you leave in August. Get changed so I can start your lessons. We have some groups coming in this weekend and you need to be ready."

"Yes, sir!" Rob replied. He went into the bedroom at the back of the barn, found the trunk, and pulled out trousers, boots, and blouse. The pants alone weighed more than all the clothes he had on combined. And rough! He could have sworn the insides of the pants scratched his legs bloody just putting them on. But he dutifully stripped off everything, folded his clothes neatly, and tucked them away in the old steamer trunk for the summer. No underwear? Well, he would just do without since he was told to wear whatever was there. The boots, at least, were soft leather and big enough. No socks, though. He lay back on the bed just to see how hard it was. Brittle straw covered with hopsack laid over rope webbing which was tied into the rough timber frame. This was going to take some getting used to.

"Tell you what, boy, I have this iron almost to where I want it so I dont want to leave it just now. Ill talk and you listen while I finish this piece."

"Yes, sir!"

"Idle hands are the Devils workshop they always say. So you go out to the shed again and bring that leather strap in here. You can give it some oil while I show you how I do this."

"Oil?" Rob asked.

"You still have that hearing problem, I see. The oil is over on the end of the bench there." McCann pointed to a long workbench.

Rob went out back to the shed, took the strap down from its peg, then returned to the barn where he found the small pot of oil on the end of the bench. McCann had taken a large tongs, pulled his glowing iron out of the fire, and had laid it on an anvil. Rob watched with rapt attention. McCann banged the hammer down. Sparks flew. Then again. More sparks. The square bar, orange with heat, began to flatten as McCann methodically beat it flat with the hammer. He lifted the bar, eyed it carefully, laid it back on the anvil, took a metal punch, and whacked a hole near the end. Then he plunged the piece into a half barrel of water, the steam hissing as the water quickly cooled the iron.

"Heres your first lesson. All leather dries out because of the way it is processed by the tanner. You have to replace the oils in it time to time depending on its use and age. And I like to keep that strap nice and supple you know!" He winked at Rob and took the strap from him "Just lay it out on the bench, dip your thumb and two fingers into the oil, then work it into the leather till the gleam disappears. Like this."

Rob watched as McCann dipped his fingers into the oil and began to work it into the strap. The strap began to turn darker as it absorbed the oil. Rob glanced down briefly and the tent in his mentors pants was unmistakable. Rob felt himself begin to harden, too, as he slipped in so close to watch. His initial observation about McCann out in the shed when he had taken his licking was accurate. And it quickly occurred to Rob that this little bit of information might be to his advantage in his relationship with his mentor.

"You try it," McCann said, stepping away from Rob a bit.

Rob took over and dipped two fingers into the oil, then began to work his way down the strap rubbing the oil in as he went. He felt McCanns warm breath over his shoulder and debated whether to "lose" his balance a bit and fall backward to see it that erection was also right behind him.

"Thats it," McCann encouraged. "When you get all the way to the bottom, turn it over and oil the other side. Then hang it back in the shed. Now when I tell you to get the strap and give a good oiling you know what to do. Back in the 1870s, the period you should be living in, a good lickin was often called a dose of strap oil. And some lads were required to give the strap a good oiling before their pa took it across their backside."

"Yes, sir," Rob replied, smiling ever so slightly to himself. Had he been half blind McCann could not have missed the big bulge in the front of Robs scratchy trousers.

"When we finish today and the fire goes down I want you to oil the bellows tonight. That will be one of your weekly tasks. They dry out quickly because of the heat. You do it the same way but it takes a long time. Everything we do in here depends on that bellows so the leather has to be kept in top condition."

"Ah, I cant do it tonight. I have other plans. Tomorrow would be ok, though."

"Guess you have a reading problem along with that hearing problem? You signed a contract when you interviewed and accepted the job, son. Youre here for the duration. Thats the deal. You took it and you honor it."

"Well, I will, _d_a_m_n_ it! But one _f_u_c_k_in night? Gimme a break!" The words were barely out before Rob realized he could not suck them back in somehow so they would not be heard.

"Did I hear what I think I just heard?" McCanns eyes widened in amazement and he stood, speechless, for a brief moment. "WHAT did you say?"

"Nothing. Just that I need to have tonight off. This is all too fast. I have to take care of a couple of things before I spend the night here."

"Whoa! Lets just back up and take another run at this. First thing is, I asked you to tell me what you just said. Answer me or youre digging yourself a hole you wont like to be in. Now WHAT did you just say?"

"I said, sir," Rob replied, his eyes down on the dirt floor, "that I would really appreciate your giving me one night off to take care of some personal things tonight."

"Oh? I guess I must have a hearing problem, then. I thought I heard you say, _d_a_m_n_ it and one _f_u_c_k_ing night. Is my hearing that bad?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then lets take it again. What did you say, exactly?"

"Im sorry, sir. I said, _d_a_m_n_ and I did say one _f_u_c_k_ing night off."

"Thank you. Thats what I thought you said. You are going to have to do some real catch up reading in our little town library, I guess, to understand the talk and issues of the 1870s. They did not use the word _f_u_c_k_ son. Thats a very good, old English word but only in the twentieth-century did it gain common usage. And apprentices your age would never have cursed at their master or tutor as you just did."

"I understand that, sir. This is my first day here. I obviously need to learn a lot and will. Thanks for taking the time to teach me." Rob hoped this little bit of verbal judo and self-humbling would get him out of the hole he had dug with his mouth.

"Now you are heading in the right direction. I know that most young people your age have outhouse mouths. Lots of four letter words. Thats fine. But you are no longer living in 2002; you wanted to live in 1870. That is what we do here. So you can drop the four letter words and the attitude that goes with them. The sooner you can master that little task the sooner you will be able to sit comfortably when its time to eat dinner."

Rob just stood there wondering if that would be it or whether he would be made to pay a second time on just his first day on the job.

"And it is my job to see you have the motivation to learn that lesson. I was kind of hoping that little introduction you got this morning in your interview would keep you on your best behavior for a while till you settled in. So lets get a couple things straight right now. One, you are not going out tonight. Two, you will be doing assignments in the library each night this week on life in the 1870s. And three, youre going to get a good reminder right now about your language and your attitude."

"Please sir. I am sorry. I know Ill do better."

"Oh, I know you will, too. After Ive given you your first real whipping. Now take the strap and go on out to the shed. Ill be along in a bit when I finish here."

"Please, Mr. McCann, not another lickin with the strap! Thats not fair!"

"Fair? Lifes not fair. And you might be counting your blessings. You best learn and learn quickly, boy, because the strap isnt the worst punishment you might get. I dont like to use it but if you push hard enough I have a riding crop hanging by the door over there and will put you across the bench for a horsewhipping. Now get! Get out to the shed and wait."

Robs eyes widened at this last threat. He glanced over to the barn door and there was the riding crop all right. About three feet long and looking wicked. So he took the newly oiled strap and headed out the back of the barn to the shed to wait. Maybe it was time to rethink his whole summer. But once again he had this ridiculous erection and that little surge of adrenalin as the unexpected _s_e_x_ual feelings shot up from his crotch through his belly. In the dusk of day he pulled that saddle trestle out into the middle of the shed and this time did not bother to remove the saddle. He simply sat down on it with the leather strap in his hands and waited.

Over the next half hour Rob listened to the clank and hiss of Calvin McCann working the steel bar into a cross brace for a large barn door. Rob could not resist occasionally reaching down to the lump in his trousers to stroke himself. He had such an urge he finally decided to take the risk and slipped into the outhouse. He dropped his trousers and began to pump himself in earnest when he suddenly realized the clanking had stopped and then the door flew open to the blinding light of McCanns oil burning lantern.

There was, for a moment, a complete suspension of time. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Rob. He was speechless. As was McCann. They stood there briefly, just gaping at each other. Neither found the words to express what he was feeling in this encounter. Robs erection began to shrink in his hand and he fumbled for his pants. The anger began to wash across McCanns face and he finally spoke.

"Dont bother. You wont need them." Then he held the outhouse door open and simply pointed to the shed.

Rob, still speechless, hobbled along in front of McCann who walked along behind with the lantern into the dark shed. Once inside he hung the lantern on a steel hook suspended from a low roof beam and it lit the entire inside of the shed. He watched in silence as Rob stepped out of his trousers, took the strap from the saddle trestle, and handed it to him.

"I guess we have a little more than your mouth and your attitude to work on, boy. I know youre in the age when the juices are running rampant but I think you may need to get a little control over them. Thats what this lesson is about, son. You need to learn some control. Control over your tongue, control of your attitude, and control of your urges. Jacking off is something you have to take care of in a very private way. And jumping into the outhouse and pumping your _c_o_c_k_ twice a day is not the way to go about it."

Silence between the two held for a long minute.

"Well, I noticed YOU had a nice hard on after my lickin this morning," Rob said with more than a touch of defiance. Risky card to play, to say the least, but Rob tossed it out there with little thought for the consequences.

"Boy, you do not learn easily or quickly, do you? This is not about me. This is about you. And I can tell you more than a few boys your age back then not only took a good whippin from their masters they also took the masters _c_o_c_k_ up their hole when he finished the whipping."

"Maybe thats what I need, then," Rob shot back. "Go ahead."

"Right now what you need is one thing: you need to control that mouth of yours. And I mean to give you the motivation to do just that. Ill decide if you need anything else down the line. You understand me, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Now you bend yourself over that saddle for a good lesson with this nicely oiled strap. You stay in place and take your strapping like a man or Ill tie you down if I have to."

Rob turned, stripped from the waist down, and bent full across the large Western saddle. His backside still showed a few lines from the morning initiation. Once more he grabbed hold of that oak bar across the front down near the dirt. He also intentionally splayed his legs out so his ball sack and erection were showing between his legs. Maybe some enticement would work here.

"Twenty lashes," McCann announced. "And lets hear you count em out. Lets see if this lesson gets through and makes an impression." He looked down and saw Robs tight hole winking at him from the crevice between his cheeks. Standing well to the side and behind he measured the distance, raised the thick leather strap, and lashed it down dead center across Robs buttocks.

""One, sir!" Rob answered as he sucked his breath back in.

The smithy took the strap back and laid a second lick in just below the first.

"Two, sir." Rob answered dutifully.

Two broad dark stripes now marked these first licks and they glowed, even in the dim lantern light.

Again the strap flashed and cracked.

"Three, sir!" Rob shouted in quick response.

"Four, sir!"

"Five, sir!" His voice was quaking and his breathing fast and sucking.

McCann gave him a bit of time and gently rubbed his huge, rough palm across both of Robs blazing cheeks. Even through the tough skin of a blacksmiths hands the heat and the welts could be felt.

"Lesson getting through to you son?" he asked, not expecting an answer. Then the strap visited again. And again. And again. Yet another.

"Ten, sir! Aaaaaaaaaaaah. Please, please, please let me off the rest, please sir?"

"Halfway there, boy," the smithy replied. "I dont give half lessons. And you dont need half a lesson."

McCann moved to the opposite side behind the boy to lay the last ten on backhand and even out the dark purplish stripes now painted on Robs right buttock. He drew the strap back, took careful aim, and painted another stripe, the tip just reaching round to the side of the thigh.

"Eleven!" Rob shouted as the pain spread through his thigh.

"Twelve, sir," Rob replied to a second backhanded lash. His body almost slumped a bit as he relaxed more across the saddle trestle, resigned to taking his full strapping. All defiance and tension had left and he was now willing to take whatever his teacher chose to give him.

"Thirteen, sir. Thank you sir." Rob replied as the burning intensified in his hips.

Each stroke move just a bit lower as the smithy painted the ten lashes with the strap from the top of Robs backside to the tops of his legs. And then, finally, it was over.

"Twenty, sir!" Rob felt a huge surge of pride as he lay across that trestle, his backside scalded purple. He had taken it. Every lash. And, he swore, he would not be in this position again soon. He did not move but just lay there, all the tension having left his body. But still, he had that tingling. That incessant tingling which, he knew, would soon have him hard again. Somehow this summer he and his mentor were going to work out all the rather crazy feelings he experienced in these most vulnerable of circumstances.

Mr. Mc Cann put the strap back on the peg and then took a small pot of lard from a small chest on the shelf in the back corner of the shed.

"Just stay there, son. See if this will help a bit."

Rob lay there with everything private exposed while the smithy gently rubbed some lard across the welts and darker spots. His fingers were no longer the callused, rough ones that handled raw iron all day. As Rob relaxed even more McCants gently pulled Robs cheeks apart and inserted a finger to the first joint. Rob responded by tightening up around the finger.

"Easy, son. Easy. Just relax. From the looks of that woodie you have again you seem to be enjoying this. By the end of the summer we may have you relaxed and open enough to take something a lot bigger than my finger."

"Yes, sir," Rob answered. And he was sure now if he played along he would have all he needed in leverage to deal with his mentor on equal terms. If I play my cards right, he thought to himself, by the end of the summer it will be you across this trestle and Ill be standing back there with the horsewhip. Then well see if you can take it as well as you give it. Just as these thoughts flashed through his mind Rob he felt his belly jerk as he shot his load out onto the dirt floor of the shed.

"Good, boy!" McCann said softly as he put the lard bucket back. "Now get your pants back on and you can get some supper down at the town restaurant. After that you can give the bellows a good oiling and get to bed. We start here just about dawn."


More stories by Thomas Hobbes