The Journal Ch. 01

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A Civil War Captain describes the punishment of a young man.
1.3k words
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Part 1 of the 9 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 10/04/2013
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The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war.

I surveyed the chamber for the upcoming punishment. Everything seemed to be in place. In fact, all that was missing was the culprit. But, after just a few minutes of anticipation, the doors at the top of the second floor landing opened. Standing in the doorway was the young man to be tormented flanked on either side by his tormentors.

He was blindfolded and naked with his arms tied behind his back. His tormentors were also naked, as was I. The culprit was brought down to the landing at the bottom of the stairs where his legs were spread and tied to iron rings on the floor. He would not be punished here, but, rather, inspected for any marks or bruises. This would make it easier for me to document his punishment as it progressed.

After his inspection, the young man's legs were untied from the rings and he was brought to the shower where he was made to kneel on the floor. His legs were spread apart and tied once again to iron rings. A Tormentor lowered the culprit's head to the floor and a strap was attached behind his neck. Once secured, he was not able to move during his cleaning. This current position caused his firm cheeks to spread open and allow a tormentor easy access to his anal passage. Warm water was sprayed directly into the culprit's ass for several minutes. Though the culprit remained silent, his shaking gave away his discomfort. Afterwards, the young man was brought back up to a standing position and the rest of his body was scrubbed with soap and washed clean.

Following this, his hands were untied and he was walked to the next room containing the Sphincter Chair. This plain wooden chair looks quite normal if it were not for the straps built into the legs, arms, seat and headrest. Of course, the culprit was not concerned with the straps. His eyes were focused with fear on the sinister-looking device sticking up from the center of the seat.

Despite being thinner than an average cock, and not quite as long, the metallic dildo looks menacing enough. But what the culprit was not aware of was that the device was wired into one of my newly acquired electric generators.

The Tormentors placed him in the chair so that the device thrust between his cheeks. The culprit wiggled in discomfort and made his first utterance; a small moan as the greased dildo slid effortlessly into his asshole. Next, straps were secured around each arm, ankle, and thigh. A final strap around his forehead kept him completely immobile for this first punishment session. One tormentor was in charge of operating the switch on the machine while the other man knelt next to the chair. He was not there to hold the young man down, as the straps were more than sufficient, but rather, to enable him easy access to the culprit's nipples.

With the flip of a switch, electric jolts pulsed through the device causing the culprit's sphincter to alternately contract and relax wildly. The beauty of the chair's design is that, while the jolts of electric current caused him to push up against the straps, those same straps forced him to bear down on the dildo.

Despite the shock and discomfort from the intermittent jolts, the young man's cock rose into a full erection. He was now moaning and breathing heavy as the dildo did its work. In between jolts, the kneeling tormentor twisted at the culprit's nipples and rigorously rubbed his cock. This continued for twenty minutes, until the culprit had come for the first time.

After he was cleaned up, a tormentor released him from the straps and pulled him up from the chair. His abused muscles failed him, and he slid to the floor with a sickening thump.

"Get up," the tormenter snickered, "Your punishment has just begun."

The culprit slowly got himself up onto his knees and then, finally, brought stood on his feet. I took this moment to fully examine the young man. He could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen years of age. He had dark hair that was matted to his forehead with the sweat of his first session. He had no facial hair and only a trace of hair on his chest. His cock was magnificent, long and thick and, to my surprise, cut. I had not known many young men of his breeding to be circumcised. It hung down from his firm physique. This was the body of a young man who was no stranger to laborious work. When the tormentors took him by the arms and walked him out of the room, I could only pray that they would be merciful on his graceful ass cheeks. They were round and firm with no trace of hair.

The culprit was taken to the center of the chamber. If he thought that he would have a moment to relax his pulsating muscles, he was sorely mistaken. His arms were quickly brought over his head and placed into cuffs that hung from the ceiling. Then, his legs were spread apart and a bar was placed between his feet. His ankles were cuffed to either end so that he could not move his legs back together.

If I had any hopes that the tormentors would have mercy on the young man, it was quickly dashed as they reached for their whipping tools of choice. Each man took a leather flogger that resembled a horse's tail. As they positioned themselves on either side of the victim, the culprit uttered his first words. They were said with such a gentle, youthful sound, that my heart ached and I almost stopped the session.

" Oh God," He whimpered softly, "Please don't."

The tormentors answered him with the floggers. Together, they began a thorough and methodic whipping of the young man's body. Each and every limb was flogged; his arms, his inner and outer thighs, the backs of his legs, and his feet. His upper and lower chest was whipped repeatedly until red, as was his back. With each stroke, the culprit whimpered in pain. But, it wasn't until the two tormentors joined together on the young man's buttocks, that I heard wails of agony.

First, they concentrated their work on the culprit's left ass cheek. They took turns whipping him so that there was a constant rhythm of slapping. The young man had no time to catch his breath from one sting when another whip would come down on his suffering ass. After the left cheek was flaming red they moved on to his right cheek. Again, they bombarded his rump with a constant flogging. When their arms got tired, they put the whips down.

Small whimpers could be heard as one of the tormentors began rubbing the warmed ass cheeks. If the culprit thought his whipping was over, he was wrong. He could not have been more wrong if he tried. Wrapping an arm around the young man's waist to give him better leverage, the tormentor began mercilessly spanking his already abused ass cheeks.

"Oh God, No! Please God, No! No! No," the culprit begged.

Alternating back and forth between his left and right ass cheeks, the tormentor ignored his pleads for mercy. This went on until the young man was about to faint from exhaustion. Then, the other tormentor knelt before the culprit and took his semi-erect cock into his mouth. After just a few moments of oral stimulation, the culprit let out a moan and came for the second time that evening. Then, mercifully, he passed out. He was left hanging from the ropes while the tormentors walk out of the room for a drink and some much needed rest. They were pacing themselves for the long evening ahead.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
MORE MORE MORE Some One Was a Bad Boy

The story was vividly told. I could hear, feel, and smell the whole scene. We need of this type of story especially more of Civil War time era & countryside. Excellent.

Buttfckr

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