'Semester Break at the Farm, the Phipps Estate Saga Continues'

More of the Phipps Estate saga

Enjoy

CB

*****

Semester Break at the Farm, the Phipps Estate Saga Continues

Copyright 2019

by Chris Bellows

Danielle Jackson

This Zoey Roberts friend of brother Todd is quite the photographer. She has graciously emailed numerous pics... all sordid... all debasing... and all in full color, high definition... visually chronicling Todd’s recreational pursuits... if that is the best term... while not attending law school and studying.

Quite humiliating for him. Yet there is no indication of protest, no resistance, no objection. I suppose I should not be surprised, having him so often strip naked for me and birching him in the barn. For then too there was no protest, resistance, or objection. Instead as puberty progressed into adolescence he would harden for me... me and sister Jackie... after a half hour or so of leisurely applied discipline. We ignored it at the time. But his libidinous reaction was duly noted.

And when months ago his classmate Marsha Devine called me asking that I take some photos of my own, there again came an inkling of things to come. Marsha briefly explained that a wealthy eccentric woman had been providing assistance to her and others with law school... that Todd was a candidate as well. And days later, after Todd called to announce that he was essentially on full scholarship, no longer even having to pay for dormitory and food, ignoring the excitement of being relieved of the burden, the nature of the photos requested of me should have spurred more thought... some questions.

Well now I have some answers... and will have more.

“So Todd, you’ve been doing some farming on your own...” I prompt.

Sister Jackie and I sit about the kitchen table, enjoying morning coffee served by our maid younger brother Todd. He’s naked. Having arisen quite early and likewise served Mom and Dad, the moment they departed.... Mom to a job many miles away... Dad out to the far off pastures... Todd knew to disrobe... no commands necessary... just a simple hint... ‘you know how we want you’.

He’s returned for the semester break in chastity, a very expensive and almost decorative device of shiny steel purchased by his benefactress, the wealthy woman paying tuition, room and board.   

The household duties began for him when he was an unruly teen. Though there’s much daily work to be done... man’s work... in raising sheep, an obstreperous Todd would dally, not focus, let things slacken. Plus in the Spring, when the young rams need to be castrated, a squeamish Todd just couldn’t take to it, a deed in which Jackie and I have reveled. It was decided that he work instead within the house where any slovenliness would not affect the family economics.

Failure to properly feed and water the sheep can be detrimental... particularly in not knowing what tasks have been skipped and when.

With meal preparation, household cleaning, laundry... all tasks assigned to a young Todd... there was the convenience that failure to timely perform all was immediately evident.

When the economics of sheep farming became tougher and tougher, sister Jackie and I replaced the hired help... the girls of the family needing to do man’s work because of Todd’s lack of focus. When such inattention continued, Mom and Dad deemed us... me and Jackie... to be in charge... of supervising the housework... and the discipline needed to assure its timely completion.

  

Yes, Jackie and I were relegated to farm work, annoyed that any opportunity for further education and a normal social life ended. The completion of high school brought the unending drudgery of tending to sheep. This annoyance grew and turned to envy when Todd finally became focused academically and Mom and Dad deemed him college material.

But his household responsibilities ceased not and Jackie and I decided to become more demanding... and more apt to discipline... as Todd’s educational prospects brightened.

Slight mishaps led to the denial of clothing. More significant transgressions led to trips to the barn. As Todd objected less and less and trips to the barn became more and more frequent, his household uniform became a frilly pink apron and nothing else.        

Jackie and I often furtively discussed Todd’s well cloaked disappointment in having to dress when Dad returned from the pastures. Did he truly enjoy our dominion, his naked servitude? 

The chastity cage is a surprise and would otherwise be considered a constraint on our enjoyment of birching him to the point of erection. But in a sealed package delivered to me I have found, along with an appropriate offering from his friend Marsha, a key. So if my assumption is correct, there is another surprise... that Jackie and I have been bestowed with the prerogative of emancipating Todd’s penis. It’s an empowering thought. But with it comes the notion... why bother? 

I hold up a photo of Todd in a leather harness. Sort of designed for that used to tether a draft animal, the thick wrist cuffs attached to a broad waist belt suggest otherwise.

“Hauling a cart loaded with pumpkins,” my voice pleasant, prodding him for more.

He nods, blushing as he refills my cup.

“Your buttocks... such prominent thin red stripes, Todd. The quirt I assume... the one you brought to us from Marsha?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what Todd?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Jackie and I have decided to insist on etiquette... to assure Todd’s obeisance and offer contrast to his prospects as a highfalutin lawyer.

“So your friend Marsha not only works you... but whips as well. What’s this thing... it’s like a metal rod... between your ass cheeks?”

As I slide the photo across the table to Jackie, Todd really blushes, his entire nakedness turning crimson. He turns away, ostensibly to return the coffee pot to the stove and wash some dishes, but I know better. He’s bashful, needing to collect his thoughts.

“It’s... well... this thing... used... ah... as part of the harness.”

“Just seems to disappear... the end I mean. Not part of your cock cage?”

“No Ma’am.” 

“There’s some goo coming from his penis tube,” an astute Jackie notes, staring at the photo. “You’re leaking stuff Todd.”

Jackie holds up the photo of Todd’s bound nakedness, waving it to summon him from the kitchen sink.

“What is it Todd?” my voice firming, my tone that used to presage trips to the barn.

“It’s... well... when a guy... ah... doesn’t use his... doesn’t have sex...”

“You mean masturbate?”

“Ah... yes... that too. Well the glands need to get rid of stuff.”

“You’re not oozing anything now,” Jackie, brazen as always, reaching forth to grasp the steel mesh cylinder of Todd’s cock cage for closer examination.

Jackie and I, working the farm, have not a lot of experience with the male gender. We’re not shy... certainly not virgins... it’s the dawn to dusk exhausting work which precludes social interaction. That and the fact that the nearest town is ten miles down the road. But there are the sheep. And in neutering some of the more mature rams, we’ve seen such stuff, sticky fluid. And indeed, Jackie knowingly nods to me. 

“The wethers don’t secrete like this,” she notes with a smirk, finally releasing Todd and pointing to the photo.

“Not after the elastrator. No more sloppiness,” I add with a laugh.

Todd, queasy as stated when it comes time to emasculate the young male sheep deemed to be beta... not likely to sire desirable lambs... begins fumbling about, unsteady hands clanking the dirty dishes. 

“So you’re not leaking now. Which I must suppose is explained by this photo.”

Todd’s blushing turns to apoplexy as I lay out the photo of mutual fellatio while he’s having his little fanny split open and rectum penetrated by a faux phallus of blue rubber.

“Looks exciting for you Todd... getting a blow job from some guy while being fucked. This is dated... two days ago... when you left Pittsburgh,” rather proud of my detective work.

“And explains why his little thing isn’t now as messy as in the other photo,” Jackie chimes in with glee.

“So I’m going to keep you locked up Todd. Your thing going to get sloppy? Should we get the elastrator ready?”

“That’s what this metal rod thing does, Danielle,” Jackie gushes, joining in the detective work. “It makes him ooze even more. Kind of like pumping the stuff from him.”

“Milking him,” I further add, envisioning the purpose of the curved bar of metal inserted within his gluteal cleft.  

  

With that I demand that Todd come to the kitchen table, place his hands to the back of his head, part his feet to present his entrapped male package, and tell us all, not only about his farming, but the curious bindings and enjoyment of his servitude... for we know he enjoyed.