Saturday, August 24, 2019

Fourth snippet, 'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps Estate'


Todd Jackson - The Final Farm Days

“You’re going to strip naked and you’re going to join us in the barn.”

Sister Danielle’s authoritative tone is a throwback... to my teen days when I as a fractious lad was placed under her and sister Jackie’s auspices while mom and dad worked.

“That’s over, Danielle. I’m 23 years old and in law school.”

“Well, if you want to stay in law school and alleviate the financial burden you’ve put on all of us you’d better listen. When you gave your friend Marsha my phone number you must have known there was a reason she wanted it.”

I nod, Marsha succinctly explaining that talking to one of my sisters could result in the assistance I alluded to in yesterday’s phone conversation.

“So I have Jackie cutting a birch branch. And the whipping bench is ready. It’s not a sure thing, but your friend Marsha says it’s the first step... and there’s no skipping it. So I want you in the barn. And as I said I’ll want you naked... leave your clothes in the house. It’s a warm day.”

Another reversion to punishment days. If the weather was good, I was made to leave my only covering... my apron... behind and walk completely exposed to the barn. The farm is secluded yes. But the seemingly long walk validated my sister’s control, the threat of a delivery van or other interloper bringing quirky thrill.

I don’t fully understand what is happening, but sister Danielle is in earnest. And in referencing the financial burden of law school I remind myself that what little cash the farm generates has gone to my behalf... my sisters living in relative squalor in terms of their social lives.

So, my turn to help, my housework not putting money on the table.

Danielle departs. I disrobe. For some reason I dash to the barn, my shyness remaining. As I get to the door, a smirking sister Jackie greets, a thin birch branch in hand, stripped of all leaves and ready to chastise.

“You’ve grown hair,” not having seen my nakedness in years. 
 
I ignore, entering.

“What’s this about, Danielle?”

“Photos... required photos. But first we need to warm you up a bit. There’s a certain pose demanded... and we remember how nicely you took to having your buttocks whipped by a girl... don’t we Jackie?”

Jackie nods, handing the length of birch to Danielle then pointing to the short bench.

I become apoplectic, slowly complying in thought... kneeling, tummy down, thighs well separated. It was years before I understood the salacious view the pose offered my sisters, male plums swinging about. And I understand the reference... ‘how I took to having my buttocks whipped’. Yes, quite embarrassing... never discussed... but my sisters always noticed the state of my penis when I arose from a half dozen or more lashes of the searing birch branch. I became erect for them. In silence they would nod to each other, sparing me the ignominy of further discussion. But it is evident the memory remains.

Compounding the ignominy, sister Jackie would personalize the whipping. Sitting on a low stool facing me, I was made to extend my arms above my head, horizontal to the floor. She would take my hands, pulling vigorously. And as Danielle stroked away, she could sense my reaction to the agony, my hands clenching, my arms frantically pulling. I was made to look directly into her smiling face as she mocked my tears.

“Just some marks for the camera, Todd. Take Jackie’s hands now. It’s for the best. Then you will pose for us... full frontal... profile shots.. your backside... and my favorite... you’re going to bend over and touch your toes for us.” 

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