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The Journal Ch. 01

By: Candell



Light filtered through the lowered mini blinds creating golden lines on the heavy wood desk. In the center of the desk was a worn leather journal. A thin female hand caressed the rough leather, tracing over the insignia on the cover.

The owner of the hand was an attractive blond haired woman who sat at the desk staring intently at the book. This book was her only souvenir of the man who ruined her life today. Her index finger hooked around the leather band the encircled the book and rotated it so the small silver lock binding the book closed faced her. She shifted her weight in the chair and felt a small key press against the soft lower curve of her right breast. She should hate the man who left this journal in her hands, but she didn't. She hadn't loved her life enough to grieve for it's sudden downfall.

Her eyes scanned the small neat apartment she had occupied for the last five years. It seemed alien to her now, part of a past life. The book in front of her was the passage to a new existence but she wasn't quite ready to open it. She felt a need to reexamine her past, as one would the life of a dear friend who had passed away suddenly, to see if the death had been necessary, if it could have been avoided.

Her mind slipped back several hours. She was dressed in her cute little pleated black skirt and simple red sweater. A brass nametag was pinned to her chest. Leeda Kiesly, associate librarian, it read. She was putting away some returned reference volumes when she noticed him at the end of the aisle watching her. He was tall and elegantly dressed. Except for the sparkle in his blue eyes, he could easily have been one of the older professors that frequented her library. But those youthful blue eyes watched every movement of her body in intimate detail and did not belong on the face of the distinguished white haired man that leaned against the bookshelf with a cane hooked over his arm. Though he was too old to interest her, there was something about him that appealed to Leeda. There was a swagger from self-confidence, hard won, and a look that said he would never take to growing old gracefully.

"Are you looking for something?" Leeda asked using the smile that had charmed her out of a lot of situations. He smiled in return and nodded but didn't speak.

"Can I help you find it?" she prompted.

"I don't know" was his cryptic answer. She waited to see if he had any further information to offer. He didn't answer. He just kept looking at her, especially her legs. It was starting to make her uncomfortable. She shrugged her shoulders, offered a helpful smile and said, "Well let me know if there is anything I can do."

"I will," he replied.

Leeda turned away from him and retrieved another volume from her cart. This book needed to be returned to the top shelf, so she pushed a rolling stool over to the spot. As she reached the top step, the gentleman began walking towards her. His eyes seemed glued to her legs and she became self-conscious of the short skirt she was wearing. She almost wished she had listened to Ms. Wardley's tirade about her clothing and wore something more matronly to work. As she reached to place the volume on the upper shelf, the gentleman came to a stop inches from her. His face was so close to her bare thigh she could feel his warm breath on her skin. She tried to push the volume into its place quickly, but it refused to slide into the small opening. She lifted the hand that had been holding onto the shelf to try to make a larger spot for the book. As she did, the gentleman grabbed her by the knees. The shock of his hands on her skin made her jump and she grabbed the shelf to keep from falling off the stool.

"Please let go of me," Leeda whispered tersely. 

The older man shook his head and stepped behind her, keeping a tight hold on her legs and pressing them toward the shelf. Thoughts raced through Leeda's mind. How could she get out of this? She couldn't struggle. If she did, she would fall from the stool. If she yelled out for help, no doubt Ms. Wardley would be the one to respond and she would hold Leeda responsible for this scene. Ms. Wardely was a dried up old prune, who thought Leeda's short skirts and big breasts meant she was a loose woman. No doubt the man at her legs was thinking the same thing, though what he hoped to accomplish by grabbing her like this was unknown to her. It was probably just a quick grope by a man physically incapable of doing any thing more. She decided her best bet was to just wait patiently for him to let go.

Then all logical thoughts were thrown from her mind as his warm breath tickled the back of her knees. She gasped from the sensation. The soft touch of his lips on her skin followed. His hands still held her in place, but she wasn't sure she could have moved away from the sensation if she did have her freedom. She felt a burning in her belly and tingling from her breasts to her core. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands loosened their grip and began a delicate tracing of her knees and thighs.

"Bend forward," he said in a quiet authoritative voice. She felt humiliated and terrified and somehow incredibly excited. Her mind told her to jump and get away from him, but her body obeyed his command. She tipped her body forward, pressing her forehead against her hands on the shelf. She knew it mad no sense, but her body seemed hungry for the hands that were tracing patterns up and down her legs, worshipping their lines as he kissed her lower thighs and knees. She felt one hand slide up the back of her thigh to the lower edge of her skirt. He pushed the material up over her ass, revealing the black silk panties that she wore.

"Yes." He said quietly, "I think you can help me find what I'm looking for." His hand grabbed her ass cheek and squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh. His other hand held her legs against him and she knew his eyes were trained on the wet area on her panties that showed what his actions were doing to her. Then his fingers caught on the top band of her panties and with one quick movement, tugged them down to her knees.

Leeda realized how risky her situation was now. There was no escape possible. With her knees bound together by her panties, even removing her hands from the shelf could cause her to loose her balance and fall from the stool. If she called out, there would be no doubt to any rescuer that she was indeed the harlot Ms Wardley believed her to be. She was transfixed by fear and excitement, praying this was all some warped dream, yet wanting more satisfaction from this man.

Leeda felt his hands leave her and she looked back quickly, partly in fear that he would leave her so unfulfilled. She saw him remove the cane from his arm. With a quick twist the top came off and he placed it in his coat pocket. Her eyes locked on the new cane top. It was now silver and bullet shaped. The shiny top was over an inch in diameter and at least six inches in length. Her eyes jumped to his face and she saw the sexual excitement in his eyes. She gasped as she realized his intent. He extended the cane toward her leg and traced a line down the back of her thighs. The cool metal tip raised goose bumps as its direction was reversed and it was now slid up the inside of her thigh. The metal was cool and felt slick against her skin. Her breath came in short quick pants and she clamped her legs together instinctively trapping the cane in its progression.

The man smacked her ass lightly and she jumped slightly allowing the cane to continue it's path upwards. She clamped her thighs together again stopping it just short of it's destination. The man chuckled and began kneading the soft cheeks of her ass. His fingers slid down the crease and she felt his thumb pressing against her asshole, rhythmically pushing gently on it. Her body responded immediately to this new touch and she bit back a groan as she arched her back and released the tight clamp of her thighs. 

Immediately the metal staff slid upward plunging into her very wet pussy. The groan that escaped her lips was completely uncontrollable as the smooth metal slid inside her. She automatically bent her knees and arched her back, opening herself for his further penetration. Her hands clamped down on the shelf to hold her body up as he began thrusting the cane in and out of her. Her body rocked in rhythm to his thrusts. She pressed her body lower and felt the metal tip slide deeper inside her till she could feel the joint of metal and wood in the cane and knew the entire bullet was buried in her body.

Her body was weak from the myriad of sensations coursing through her. She needed a release and she felt it building. He started to smack her ass lightly urging her on and she responded by propelling her body up and down in an increasingly faster motion. The muscles of her lower extremities started to pulse and she felt her body tightening down on the staff as electricity shot through her system. All conscious thought left her and she was captured in the moment by this blunt sexual action. She cried out in a release that her body had been seeking.

Her cry of release was answered by a scream of bloody murder issued by Ms. Wardley. Leeda was shocked back to reality as her horrified gazed locked with her employer's and several other library patrons who had rounded the corner in response to her outcry, only to see her perched on a stool with a gentleman's cane sliding from her dripping pussy. With a quick motion, he lifted her off the stool and blocked the prying eyes with his body. As she bent to pull her panties into place he pressed a key between her breasts then a book into her hands. As she took the book, he released her and darted quickly away from her and around the corner of the aisle. She started after him, only to be stopped by the hand of Ms. Wardley on her arm. The woman had recovered from her shock and was now loudly denouncing her as the most evil jezebel to have walked the earth. Leeda ran from the library with the voice of MS. Wardly in her ears, screaming that she was never to set foot in that library again.

And that was what brought her to her current position, she mused, still staring intently at the journal on the table in front of her. Jobless, friendless, basically a social pariah in this small college town. All because of one man. But in all honesty, she couldn't blame him alone. She had wanted it. She had never felt so passionately alive as she had while being fucked by his cane. The word sounded funny in her mind, but she knew it was the most accurate description. She had been fucked this afternoon. It was not making love or any other sweet romantic old-fashioned notion. It had been sex, incredible sex, and she had loved every second of it. Maybe she was a jezebel, a woman who used her body and sexual favors to destroy men. Except she was the one whose life was destroyed today and she couldn't ever remember using her feminine whiles to hold any power over a man. She wasn't sure what to think, but she knew she wanted more of what she had had today.

She slid her hand insider her bra, liking the feel of her soft full breasts and cupping one gently as she removed the small metal key. She put the key in the lock and twisted, watching the lock pop open. A smile crossed her lips and she eagerly pulled the book to her. It opened to the first page, an instruction was printed across the middle of the page.

"This journal has been transcribed by each of its owners to preserve the words of the original authors. Please continue this tradition to ensure the everlasting nature of the stories told here."

Leeda looked at her small notebook computer and thought that would be simple enough, but first she needed to know what was so important. She flipped to the next page and was surprised by the date of the first entry.

"July 24, 1692

'My name is Hester and before I am put to death I feel the truth about my life and my crimes must be told. I stand accused of having an unnatural power over the men of my community. The power I hold is real, but there is nothing unnatural about it. It comes from the most natural and powerful force known to all creatures and I am a woman who is proud to possess it.' 

The Journal Ch. 01



Until I'd found Jim's diary (I think guys call them journals), I hadn't a clue that he felt like he did. It must have been such an awful thing, to have such desire and such longing, and to believe that he must never let me know. At first I admit that I was shocked. As I read further, however, my shock changed first to sorrow and compassion for his struggle, and later to awareness and excitement as I dedicated myself to making his dreams come true.

June 23, 2007~

 11:37 p.m.: I got to the hospital just as they brought Ann into recovery. She looked awful, all swollen and bandaged. They said it may be hours before the Dr. can see me. The drunk who hit her died a little while ago and I have to admit I felt this fierce joy, until I saw his wife and daughter as the Dr. told them. They are victims as much as Ann is.

 June 24, 2007~

 2:15 a.m.: The Dr. just got done with the others. Everybody will be fine. A little boy riding his bike got a broken arm when the spare tire from the drunk's car hit him.

He spent a few minutes talking to me, and all I remember is him saying, 'It will be a long road, but she'll be able to do anything she wants.' 

I don't care how long it takes, as long as she is alive. 

5:30 a.m. ~

 They let me go to her as soon as I proved we lived at the same address and that her DNR had me on it. I got lightheaded when I realized how close I had come to using it. Her beautiful face is swollen and they have some kind of green goo on the sides of her neck and chin. They tell me it is to prevent scarring from the burns. She has a trach tube, and the nurse said they don't know whether it will be permanent or not, but that her trachea was badly damaged. Her left arm is gone halfway between her shoulder and her elbow, her right at the wrist. God help me if she ever finds out about me. I am more scared than I have ever been. I don't think I could bear to lose her.

 I hope she doesn't hate me.

They tell me that Jim stayed beside me for six days and nights. I don't remember much. Apparently, because of the amnesia-inducing effects of the drugs I was on, he had to tell me about my arms and voice several times, and he cried every time. The nurses said they had never seen anything like him for his steadfast determination and devotion. There were more surgeries, including taking my right arm at the elbow and making the tracheostoma permanent. My voice box was beyond repair, so they connected my throat directly to my stomach, and gave me a hole at the base of my neck to breathe through. 

I was unable to communicate at all for a while. The only sound I could make was a low hissing as I cried. Jim never left my side. 

July 1, 2007~

 It's been a long week. Ann's parents were here, although I don't think she knew. They were about as broken up as you would think. They left for Montana yesterday, and I said we may come and stay for a while after Ann gets out of therapy. The physical therapists say it will take a while for her stumps to heal enough to accept permanent prosthetics, and that without elbows, they will be inefficient at best. After a few phone calls, we found that we can get them fitted in Bozeman if we need to. Ann just looked straight ahead for a long time. She cried a lot initially, but now I think she's just depressed. Who wouldn't be? Her stumps jerk around a lot, and the Dr.'s say it's because her brain isn't used to the weight of her arms being gone yet, and that it may take years to go away, if ever. 

 I spoke to the speech pathologist today, and he told me how to help her communicate a little. We'll see if it works. I can't believe I'll never hear her voice again.

The Dr. said I can change her dressings from now on. My God, My God. What's going to happen to us?

Jim was standing beside me on July first, and he put a straw in my mouth. I drank, and recoiled a little when I realized it was pop. I couldn't taste much then, partly due to trauma, and partly because no air moves through my nose or mouth anymore. I think I thought it was going to burn going down, since my throat was still sensitive, but it didn't.

Then, what happens to just about everyone happened to me…I burped. As I did, I distinctly heard myself say "Whoa!" Jim's eyes met mine and I started to laugh. It came out as a hiss, of course, but it still felt great! I started to flap my stumps and make sucking motions with my lips. Jim stuck the straw in my mouth and I took a big drink. I'd kind of forgotten how to swallow for a while there, since I didn't really need to for liquids. They just roll down my throat and into my stomach.  

Anyway, I felt the bubble form in my stomach, and I let it out, looked at Jim and said, "I love you!" He pulled me to him and basically just broke down. How could I have been so awful to him, after the vigil he's held and the love that's still in his eyes? All at once, the hope floated back into view, and I determined that I would dedicate myself to overcoming this event. As he hugged me, I actually used my stumps to touch him. The sensations were very strange, almost like buzzing at the tips. Through all this, I became aware that my nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and I don't know why.

July 16, 2007~

 I think we've turn a corner here. Ann has been chattering non-stop since she figured out the esophageal speech thing. The speech pathologist had been explaining it to her for a few days, and she didn't really seem to get it, and definitely didn't seem to care that she didn't get it. When he pulled me aside and told me about the soda thing, I tried it, and I'll be damned if it didn't work. She took a big drink of the Diet Pepsi, and burped, and when she did, I very plainly heard her say, "Whoa!" Her eyes lit up, her stumps started to wiggle (like my dick), and she started making this adorable sucking face, which really made me happy and horny all at the same time. I gave her another drink, and she looked right at me and burped, "I love you!" 

 She kind of patted my shoulders with her stumps, and I thought I was going to explode in m shorts. 

July 18, 2007~

 I slowly came out of sleep to the awareness that Ann was standing beside the recliner I've been sleeping in. She was silhouetted in the light showing through the door crack and shining through the thin blue and white printed fabric of the hospital gown. It was surreal, and truly beautiful. I don't know how I knew what to do, but I just reached out my hands and touched her hips, guiding her onto my lap. She knelt on me and leaned forward into a hug. She's short, just over five feet tall and very petite at 90 pounds, so when she leaned into me, her head rested on my chest. She tucked her head into my neck and nuzzled me with her lips. I brought my hands from her hips up to her back, and stroked up and down slowly, feeling her muscles and her ribs. I could feel her breath on my chest as it came out of the hole in her neck. It was warm, and soft, and I found it a reassuring and wondrous manifestation of my best friend's return to me. I untied the tie at her waist and then at her neck, and she sat up slowly as the gown fell forward onto my lap. She looked at me with lidded eyes and, very slowly, her right stump pressed against her breast, creating a fascinating bulge at the center of her chest, her left, much shorter stump just twitching endlessly, unable to reach its breast but creating lovely seismic waves in the satiny flesh. I flashed back to countless lovemaking episodes from the past.

 Ann has known since high school that I am in love with her breasts. It's not that they're stripper or Playboy quality, actually to most, they might seem misshapen. They are large for a petite woman (30D), but have always been pendulous and very mobile, even in high school, when they were nearly new. Every movement she makes is amplified by her tits, down to small motions like breathing. They hang low on her chest, her nipples projecting out and down just before the curve at the bottom, which is level with her navel. Her nipples. My God, her nipples! They rise, or rather nearly descend from, her breasts, absolutely without warning. Ann has no aureoles whatsoever. Her nipples project out over an inch when erect, and they are always erect. Pebbled and nearly purple when aroused, they are exactly 5/8 of an inch in diameter. I know this because I have hung a drill index card on each of them when I made her a pair of sterling silver nipple rings to put on them. 

 Just three weeks ago, we made love in the early twilight, the illumination very much like that in the room now. Ann sat astride my hips, my semi-hard cock trapped under her pubis as I awoke to find her in exactly the same position she assumed this morning. Her hair fell about her face, and she leaned forward, eyes lidded and locked on mine, her arms crossed, hands grasping opposite elbows, and then sliding together. As they did, they compressed her breasts together, creating a deep cleavage. Her nipples popped out of her elbow creases onto her forearms, like little animals poking their heads out of hiding. She leans back, releasing her breasts and they fall outward and then slap against her chest with a soft sound. I reach out and clasp her hands in mine, our fingers intertwining as she rises up and lets my cock find it's way unerringly into her sheath. She sighs and slides down my length, her lubricant just slick enough to allow the motion, until I am contained within her body. Her hairless mound, lasered smooth years ago as a birthday present to me presses against my abdomen. As she settles, it looks almost as if I have grown a second small penis. Her pubic mound projects and her crease begins very high upon it, her large clitoris in its fleshy case totally above the curve. I have never seen its equal, either in size or in placement. Ann's first orgasm with me took place at our senior prom. We were slow dancing, and as we moved, she slid slightly sideways on me until she was in a position to straddle my thigh. Instead, she pushed straight against me with her legs together, which pinched her clit between her pubic bone and my thigh. As she became more and more aroused, her clit swelled until I could feel it plainly against me. By the time the dance had ended, her hips had begun to thrust against me, in time with the tiny grunts she uttered, until she sagged in my arms, her orgasm achieved in front of all her classmates.

This morning, weeks and worlds later, my Ann looks at her right breast, compressed with her stump, then looks back to me, her message plain. I put my hands under her flesh and lift, thumbing her nipples. She looks at me again and shakes her head slowly, looks at her nipple again. I push it outward, within the reach of her stump, and the gauze wrapped nub beckons toward it, and then makes contact, deflecting the spongy teat as it pushes it around in a tiny circle. Her hips have begun to buck lazily, and I am hard beneath them. I release her breasts to lower my sweat pants, and Ann rises a little to give me room, then inches down my cock, her eyes closed and a smile forming on her lips. My right thumb goes to her clit and my left to her tits, her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, her right between my ring and little fingers. She sits still, her powerful muscles grasping my penis in a velvet vise as I slide her clitoris side to side. Her face contorts in pleasure and the breath at her trach begins to puff, hissing softly. She has always been a screamer, to our occasional embarrassment, and I realize that she is mouthing her favorite mantra, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" The only sounds in the room are the liquid sounds from the saliva in her mouth and the passion issuing from the opening in her throat. She shudders as she cums, her head jerking and her stumps flailing wildly. She settles and I reach up and cup her stumps gently in my hands. Her eyes snap open and a fierce smile appears on her face. As she gave my cock a final squeeze with her pussy, she rotated her stumps inside my hands. As I felt the abbreviated bones moving inside the fleshy ends, I came with a muffled grunt. My fantasy, left buried and subsumed to guilt had come true, and I was in the presence of the most beautiful girl in the world, she was the amputee I'd always seen in my wildest of dreams. I looked into her sage green eyes.

 And that is when she knew.

I awoke with a start in the predawn glow, and I realized with a smile that I was really, really horny. I felt as if a threshold had been crossed, and that I needed to return to normal, or as close as normal was going to be. I kicked off my sheet and stood, wavering as I caught my balance, my stumps rotating uselessly. I could feel the remnants of my left fingers, my fist tightly closed, and I discarded the mental image. My right forearm, however, felt as if it had been folded backwards along the outside of my upper arm. That phantom was harder to banish. I padded to the bathroom and peed, sitting until I stopped dripping, unable to wipe. The air down there felt cool on my lips, but I didn't think it was urine causing the dampness.

I stood and walked quietly to the foot of the chair Jim slept in, and looked at him. He hadn't been taking very good care of himself, and it worried me because I knew it was my fault. That was going to stop today. 

He stirred, and I smiled as he looked at me. A look of wonder came over his face, and my heart swelled as I saw the manifestation of love on his countenance. I needed to be near him, and he knew it, placing his warm strong hands on my hips and guiding me to his lap. As I settled I leaned into him, savoring the feeling of his hands on my ass, his prickly beard on my temple. His smell was gone, and I nearly cried as I realized again that I'd lost more than my voice, my arms. Without movement through my nostrils, my sense of smell was nearly gone. I kissed him gently, sneaking my tongue out to taste his skin. His hands caressed my back and sides, and I felt his love on my skin. My heart thrilled as I realized he was untying my gown, and I realized that I didn't care if someone caught us making out. I sat back and let the gown fall from my body, puddling on his lap for a moment until he discarded it on the floor. I looked at him and felt the familiar jolt deep in my belly as his eye focused on my breasts. It was nice to know that I could still make that look appear on his face, that primal "I have got to touch those" look that I adored. I would normally have framed my boobs with my arms to create my famous cleavage, but that wasn't ever happening again, so I did the next best thing. I pushed my boob sideways with my right stump and, sure enough, his eyes went to the center of my chest as if the cleavage were still there. I even got a little wiggle out of my left tit when my tiny left stub flicked it. Jim followed my eyes and pushed my right boob out to where I could touch my nipple with my stump. The gauze felt pleasantly rough on my sensitive nipple, kind of like a dry tongue as I moved my remnant against it. I felt the pressure of my nipple on what would have been the skin on the outside of my elbow. Weird.

Jim moved his pants down, and I settled on his wonderful cock. The feeling of a part of his body going inside of mine never failed to bring me the most intense physical and emotional pleasure, and it did so especially intently this time. 

I sighed, and although the air blew up against the bottom of my chin instead of out of my open mouth, it still sounded like a sigh.

I believe that I was blessed with the most awesome tits and clit in the world, and as Jim's hands found them, I fell in love with them all over again. 

I didn't always feel that way. In fact, high school was awful for me. My boobs were low slung, my nipples were enormous, looking like someone had driven purple spikes into the bottom curve of my breasts since I had no aureoles at all. I just went from white skin directly to nipples. The other girls had these pert, bouncy little cones and these rosy wide circles around their tiny little beads, and I got stuck with these bananas flopping around with every single movement I made. My clitoris was positively obscene, if you asked most girls. They had these tiny cute mounds with their clit tucked down and out of the way inside their mysterious little slits. Not me. Mine was mounted on my protruding mound like a fucking hood ornament. Dark and fleshy, it stuck out so far that my pubic hair couldn't possibly hide it, and when I got horny, it got even bigger. My labia were just as bad. My outer lips were non-existent, not even little swells, but my inner lips made up for it by being huge purplish flaps that hung down so far that I occasionally sat on them. In the shower after gym, I used to tuck them up inside me and wedge them in with a tampon, at least until I realized one afternoon that the tampon had gotten soaked with water and was about to fall out of me in the shower. After that I quit gym with my mom's permission. I didn't wear a swimsuit without a skirt on it until I met Jim. 

Jim thought I was beautiful. The first time he got to see my pussy, he dropped to his knees and said, "That is the sexiest pussy that has ever existed. I have to have it!" I nearly died of embarrassment on the outside, but inside, I was in heaven.  

As he held my nipples in one hand (A feat I didn't know was possible once), pulling and pinching, and thumbed my clit with the other, I knew that we were going to be OK. I retreated into the primordial sensations of mating, and only subliminally realized that my "Fuck me!" chant was silent. When I came, I opened my mouth and silently howled my pleasure, realizing that never again would I wake up the neighborhood with my fucksounds. As I realized that I had been sitting immobile on Jim's staff, I leaned forward, intending to put some "motion in our ocean". When I did, I instinctively leaned forward to place my forever missing hands on Jim's shoulders. When he caught my stumps in his hands, I was pleased to realize that the contact didn't hurt, but actually produced another gyration in my pussy. I rotated my arm stubs in Jim's palms, feeling the smooshy movement of my bones sliding inside my skin. When I looked into Jim's eyes, he was focused on my stumps with that "I have to touch these things" look. Then our eyes met, and I felt his cock pulse as he came, filling me to overflowing with his seed.

He loved me! Even wrecked, and mute, forever silent and crippled, HE LOVED ME! 

So why was there guilt in his eyes?

Thursday, August 9, 2007~

 It's been a hectic couple of weeks. Ann came home on the 1st of August, and we spent a nice weekend visiting with her parents, who arrived on the 3rd. Spent some time with Becky, Ann's mom, which was interesting. We've never really gotten along, but we went shopping for groceries while Annie napped on Saturday afternoon and her dad Bill played golf with some cronies. We got a couple of coffees on the way into the store, and Becky took me aside and just held onto me for a while. When she stood back, she was crying. "I want you to know how sorry I am for being less than accepting of you, Jim. I never believed you were good enough for my Annie, and you have shown me how wrong even a mother can be. Ann thought the sun and the moon revolved around you before the accident, but now, I think you've become a saint to her. I'm sorry I've been a bitch, Jim, and I hope you'll accept my apologies."

 Well, shit. What do you say to that? I gave her a hug, saying something about how important she and Bill were to me, and how we wanted to come spend some time with them at the ranch in Montana and such. I asked if they could stay a couple of days so I could go to Chicago on business, and she perked right up and began to plan. What I didn't tell her was that the IPO on my business came in much, much better than I'd hoped, and that, as soon as some signings were done, I would be disturbingly wealthy and totally retired. I had some surprises up my sleeve for both of them and Ann, and I left a reticent Ann in their care and flew out on Monday, the 6th. I left Chicago on the 7th, taking the red-eye to Denver, then Bozeman. I concluded my deal there on the 8th and got home about 10:00 a.m. this morning.




The Journal Ch. 01



 There was a hand written note on the kitchen table from Becky. They had taken Ann to therapy and then to lunch, and would be back around 2:00. I walked to the bedroom and threw my suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. I took my briefcase and went into the den to sort out the papers I would be showing to Becky and Bill, and the folder I would show to Ann.

This journal was on the computer desk. Open to the last page, the page that revealed my guilty fantasy.

I staggered to the bathroom, and I think I threw up things I'd eaten in third grade. 



The Journal Ch. 01



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.



The Journal Ch. 02







The Journal Ch. 02



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. 




As I listened to the tormentors in the adjoining room greedily filling their stomachs with the food I had left out for them, I took the time to inspect the culprit. His arms were still high above his head and tied to the strands of rope coming down from the ceiling. His legs were still spread apart with a bar between his feet. But, in his unconscious state, his head was slumped forward. 

I looked at his face, actually inspecting it for the first time. I was immediately struck by how handsome he was. His tanned skin, full lips, and hazel eyes struck a cord in my heart. Why had such a god been brought to the chamber for punishment? What could this young man have possibly done to deserve the hours of sexual torment that awaited him? I quickly averted my eyes in the hopes of breaking the spell he was casting on my sympathies. I had more work to do, more documenting. 

The rest of his lean but muscular body was red from the beating. But although his tormentors were thorough in their whipping, the skin was not broken. Even his ass, which had taken the brunt of the barrage, contained no welts. I sighed in relief that the tormentors had not destroyed the young man's firm and rounded buttocks. 

He glistened all over, from his dark matted hair to his toes. Beads of sweat ran down his back into the crack of his ass and then disappeared under his young ball sack. His perfect cock was still semi-erect and displayed remnants of his second ejaculation. I went to the drawer and removed a cotton cloth to clean him up. I started with his ass and worked down to his feet. Then, I started back up to his crotch. As I wiped under his balls and stroked his cock to clean off the mess, I heard a slight murmur. I looked up to see the culprit staring down at me. His soulful eyes pleaded.

"Please don't hurt me, sir."

I opened my mouth to speak. I wanted to comfort him, to let him know that I would not let them destroy his beautiful body. But, I stopped short of speaking. Instead, I used my mouth to show him how I felt. I placed my lips at the head of his cock and kissed it. Then, I slowly let it slip into my mouth. The young man gave out a little gasp. I quickly let it slip out and I put my fingers to my lips.

"Shhhh." I said, "Just rest, young lad."

He remained quiet as I took more of his cock into my mouth. I tasted the saltiness from his cum and from the sweat that covered his entire body. It made me want him even more. Soon, the entire shaft was in my throat and I began to please him with a steady rhythm. He became completely erect and I gently cupped his balls in my hand. I knew I did not have much time. The tormentors would be back for the next session of punishment in just a few minutes. 

The young man started to breathe heavily. I took a moment to glance up and saw that he was squinting with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He had just recently come twice and his cock must have been very sensitive. I made the tough decision to let the cock slip out of my mouth for good. I stood up and brought my face right to his. My mouth was within inches of his lips, but I restrained my desires to kiss him. 

"Do not anger your tormenters," I whispered, "They have a job to do and they will do it. Give them no reason to be more harsh than they see fit."

I don't know if he truly understood what I was saying, but he nodded. Then, he did something that has made me curse my decision to confront the culprit. He smiled at me. It was only a slight smile... an acknowledgment, really. But it went through me like a knife. I quickly stepped back. For a split second, I thought about smiling back. But, then, I came to my senses and briskly walked away.

As I walked to the next room, thoughts ran through my head of how confused he must have been at my sudden departure. But I couldn't let him get to me or keep me from my responsibilities. I quickly surveyed the room to make sure that everything was in place. The table in the center was prepared for the culprit, as were the instruments hanging on the wall. I was just about to check the straps on the table when I heard the tormentors returning to the main chamber. 

I heard them grunting in approval as they surveyed the results of their previous session. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a hand slapping skin. I couldn't tell where the slap had occurred, but I knew from the culprit's gasp that he had been taken by surprise. Then, there were successions of four more slaps followed by gentle weeping. Despite the spanking, the young man had taken my advice. He did not speak. I prepared myself for more slaps, but, instead, I was pleased to hear the sounds of the bar being removed from between his legs. 

After a few minutes, I heard the young man grunt. Then, I heard footsteps. The first tormentor entered the room. He was also dark haired, with muscles to spare. He had Italian features, and I noticed that his cock was fully erect. Then, the second tormentor entered the room. Blond and also well built, he had the culprit slung over his shoulder (that must have been why I heard a grunt). Walking up to the table, he unceremoniously plopped the young man on his back. The culprit's eyes were wide open with fear and he looked from side to side. 

The two tormentors quickly got to work. They brought the culprit's arms slightly over his head and tied them to straps. Then, they spread his legs apart so that they made a "v" shape. They were also tied to the table's straps. Then, they lowered a panel beneath his head so that it was now tilting back. This would give them easy access to his mouth.

The first tormenter placed a small stool next to the table and climbed on top. His cock was now perfectly situated to pump down into the culprit's mouth. The culprit's eye's widened as he saw the cock hovering above him. Then, with a slight bending of the knees, the tormentor brought his ass down so that he was practically sitting on the culprit's face. His cock rested on the young man's closed lips. 

I stood by, ready to assist if necessary. I had in my hands a device that would have forced the young man's mouth to remain open for the tormentor's onslaught, but I was hoping not to have to use it. I held my breath. 

"Open your mouth, boy!" the tormentor growled. 

I looked over at the other tormentor. He started over towards me to get the device and I was just about to reluctantly hand it over when the young man resigned himself to his fate and parted his lips. I stepped back, and quickly put the device down to my side. Too quickly, perhaps. The tormentor looked into my eyes and tilted his head ever so slightly. Such stupidity on my part! Fearing that he may have uncovered my secret, my affection for the prisoner, I opened my mouth to offer an explanation. But then, thankfully, we were both drawn to the gurgling sounds coming from the table.

The other tormentor was fucking the young man's face without mercy. Each stroke downward sent his entire shaft into the deepest recesses of the culprit's throat. He began thrashing about in a desperate, but futile attempt to free himself. This drew the attention of the tormentor who was standing beside me. He forgot about the incident with the device, and went over to assist his partner. 

He pinched the culprit's already sore nipples with his fingers and started twisting them. Then, he took turns sucking on them. He pulled up on each nipple with such a tremendous suction, that I though he would rip them right off the poor young man's body. After a few more minutes, the other tormentor squeezed his ass cheeks together and I could tell that he was coming deep inside the culprit's throat. When he was done, he stepped down from the stool and changed places with the other tormenter. The culprit barely had time to take a good breath of air before another ass was resting on his face and another cock filling his mouth. 

Twenty minutes went by with each tormentor taking another turn. I don't think they came twice in his mouth, but they enjoyed fucking his handsome face, just the same. When they were done, they raised the panel under the young man's head, snapping it back into place. Then, they untied his hands and legs. If the culprit thought his punishment was over, he soon found out to the contrary. He was turned over, his body making a dull thud, and his hands and legs were retied to the straps. Then, the tormentors unlatched hooks that allowed the table to fold down, bending the culprit at the waist. Now, his ass was perfectly situated for the thorough fucking that was about to ensue. 

The first tormentor, cock still glistening with the young man's saliva, slid his enormous cock easily into the culprit's crack. As his cock head rested at the entrance to the young man's asshole, the tormentor took both of the abused ass checks into his hands. He squeezed with all his might while pulling them apart. The culprit let out a cry of pain. This was answered with the sickening sound of the tormentor's huge cock sliding into the young, tight asshole, filling it completely. 

"Aaaaaaagh!" The culprit whimpered, "Oh God, noooooooo!"

Ignoring the cries, the tormentor placed both his hands on the culprit's waist and started fucking him with abandonment. Each thrust forward sent the young man's body pounding into the table. Each time the tormentor pulled his cock out, it lifted the culprit's ass ever so slightly from the table. Then, it would be slapped back down with the force of the tormentor's cock reentering his ass. 

Each tormentor took turns abusing the culprit's ass without care. When each one was ready to surrender the young man to the other, they gave the firm ass cheeks a slap, causing the culprit to cry out in pain. It must have surprised the young man when, after the last ass slap, the ropes was once again untied and he was flipped over onto his back. After tying his hands and legs once more to the straps, the tormentors walked over to the cabinet on the other end of the room. With his ass and mouth fucked, the punishment on the culprit's cock was about to begin.



The Journal Ch. 03



It became immediately obvious that although sex had been what we needed when we walked into the kitchen, it wasn't what we needed when we walked out. The emotions we'd undergone had moved to equally substantive ones, like love, relief and joy. When Jim recovered his composure, he helped me up, and we went to our bedroom where he undressed himself and then me. We climbed wearily into our wonderful king bed, Jim turned off the phone and he held me very tightly until we slept.

The next few days were spent in reestablishing ourselves with friends and relatives, going to rehab and visiting doctors. My burns had healed remarkably well, to the point that they really looked like sunburn. I finally told the prosthetist that I wasn't going to use the left arm he'd mocked up for me. He billed it to my benefactor and sent it to a charitable organization to use in Africa. My right arm isn't getting much easier to use, and frustrates me every day. I think I only wear it because Jim and my parents seem to want me to. I know I need to learn how to use it or I'll never be independent, but I don't have to like it. 

Jim and I never did get around to sex the first week; I've been fighting a yeast infection for weeks from the antibiotics I was on, but the snuggling has been first rate. Jim seems to be avoiding my stumps, contrary to the interest he showed at first, which kind of hurts my feelings. Oh well.

Mom and dad flew in from Montana on the 3rd, and I have to admit that my emotions were mixed. It is really nice to have mom around to help, but she seems to think I have reverted to a 3 year old, just because she needs to help me do things. She's always been the rock of the family, but I've seen her red-eyed a couple of times. It took dad a couple of days to get used to seeing me, and I think he cries a lot. Dad is hard of hearing, so he can't understand me very well, but we find ways to communicate with each other. The nice thing is that he just seems to know what I need, so he's become a hug dispenser. Sometimes you just need a hug from your daddy, and there's nothing else in the world that will do.

The swelling in my stumps keeps going down, faster on the right side, probably because I wear the arm on that side. My left stump is funny compared to the right one. The bone doesn't go all the way to the end, so the tip droops, kind of like a little boob. I can even feel it wiggle when I walk. The scars are turning pink from the original red, and it doesn't make me want to wet my pants if I nudge something with them like before.

We had some friends over for Sunday dinner, and I got a little drunk. I guess I have less blood volume since my arms left, and two beers gets me buzzed like four did before. I won a contest with one of Jim's younger friends, he challenged Jim to a chugging contest, and I talked Jim into letting me take his place. Before the guy had his second swallow done, I had drained my mug and slapped it on the table. I didn't have to swallow, I just opened wide and let it go down, winking to Jim, who had the good grace to blush!

Jim left on business Monday morning, and it was a lonely couple of days, at least until Wednesday.

Around 1:30 Wednesday afternoon, I was going through the video drawer in our bedroom looking for something to watch. My yeast infection had been gone since Monday, so I was looking through our selection of porn for something to raise my pulse a little. I had already figured out that my hook would open far enough to grab my rabbit vibrator, and I was looking for something to enhance my already randy mood.

At the back of our drawer where the nasty stuff is kept, I found a book, small and bound in red leather. I took it to the bed and sat it down so I could open it. It turned out to be Jim's hand written journal, going back fifteen years (ten years before we met) in his small, precise writing style. I felt guilty about reading it, but it was like a train wreck; I wanted to look away but couldn't. 

I started reading when we began to date. It was really sweet, and went on and on about how much he loved me. He noted several things I did in bed that drove him wild, and I filed those away for later. Overall it was heartwarming and very loving.

Then curiosity got the better of me, and I started to wonder about his prior loves. I turned to the first page. 

I read a few pages in confusion, and then it dawned on me. These were records of women he'd seen on the street. Details of where, when and more. There was an acronymic code in the entries that I didn't understand. The letters SAK, SBE, DAK, LAK and others were noted in the margin beside each woman's record. And then it hit me! They were amputees! Single Above Knee, Single Below Elbow, Double Above Knee, Left Above Knee. 

My Jim had a fetish for amputees!!

My heart sank in my chest and my hook started to shake. MY HOOK!

I was a DAE!

I flew into a crying panic and the only thing I could think of to do was to email Janey. I knew my parents couldn't see me like this, so I was glad they were off at the golf course. Janey responded right away and said she was on her way to the house. I tried to pour myself a shot of whiskey, but I couldn't get the damned bottle open, and I was shaking like a leaf anyway.

Janey burst through the door at a trot at the stroke of 3:00, and I just pointed to the journal. She walked to the bed and picked it up, then sat on the couch. I sat down beside her, and put my head on her lap.

"I want to go through this. From front to back. So you just make. Yourself comfy and. I'll let you know. What I think. When I'm done," she burped. She started to read from the first page, patting me occasionally as she read. When she'd finished, she sat me up and turned to face me.

"OK. Let me start. By saying that. I've only known. You both for a little while. And that I think. You're both. Terrific people. This is a strange. Book to be sure. And I don't pretend to. Understand Jim's. compulsion but it. Seems to be. Very deeply. Programmed in him. Have you read. This all the way. To the end?" she asked, panting a little with breathlessness from her extended speech. I was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. It must get worse, I thought.

"No. I couldn't," I said.

"I think you should. In the beginning. It is just what. It seems to. Be, but in the. Middle it changes. After he meets you. The sightings stop. And it's all. A really touch. –ing tribute to. Jim's love for you. And at the end. It becomes a. Really poignant. Record of. Your accident. And his thoughts. About what's. Happened to you. And his guilt. For reacting. To your. Amputations. With pleasure. Instead of sorrow. His heart is breaking. Because he loves. You so much. But he feels guilty. About his fetish. And it's killing. Him. Let me ask. You something. Does he love your tits?" 

I nodded, eyes downcast. 

"A lot?" She nudged my left breast with her index finger.

"A lot." I said. "He can't keep. His hands. Or eyes. Off of them. I used to. Hate them until. I met Jim."

"Magnify that. Fondness for. Your boobs by. A thousand. And you'll know.

How he feels for. Your stumps. But he doesn't. Feel he can tell. You without. Hurting you."

Janey had to stop to regain her breath, and as she did, she looked at me and smiled through her tears. As her words started to center in my mind, I began to realize that she was probably right. Jim had never shown me anything but the deepest love, the greatest respect and the most steadfast support.

"What should. I do, Janey?"

` "You have two. Choices here. I think. You can turn away. From him and. Leave him before. He gets back. Or you can. Be the woman he. Needs to fulfill his. Life and his. Fantasies. Through no fault. Of his or. Yours. You are. Equipped like nobody. Else in the. World to be his. Life mate as well. As the woman he. Has fantasized about. His whole life. I'd give anything. To be that. Important to… Well, anybody," she finished, her stoma whistling with her effort. She was crying openly now, and I hugged her to me with my prosthesis. 

We sat and talked for several hours, and at the end of our discussions, I had read the journal cover to cover, and I had to agree with her. It wasn't the evil thing I'd initially thought it was. It held the thoughts of a man in the grip of a compulsion he felt he couldn't fight. 

The world I'd almost let slip away had turned from darkness to the brightest of days. And I knew exactly what to do.

I messaged my mom with Janey's help and told them I needed the house all to myself for two nights and days. They made it to the house in just a few minutes and swooped up their stuff. I had Janey make them reservations at a golf resort not far from here. Before they left, mom gave me a hug and whispered, "Good luck Honey, he's a keeper."

"Luck has. Nothing to do. With it, mom. And I intend. To keep him."

Janey checked the flight schedule and found that Jim's plane was on time. I had her message a friend on mine who is a TSA agent at the airport and she said she'd message me when she saw him go through. Janey and I swung into action. She gave me a shower and shaved my armpits, legs and pussy. 

The phone rang, and we both jumped a foot. It was Allison at the airport. She'd just seen Jim blow through the airport like a gust of wind. She said he was smiling like it was Christmas morning. If he only knew what Santa had gotten him. We estimated that he was 45 minutes out. 

Janey and I chose a nude Frederick's shelf bra under a forest green sleeveless bamboo tee. A black satin mid-thigh pleated skirt, seamed hose and black 3"heels completed the ensemble. No panties, of course. I held my stumps up one at a time, and Janey used some makeup to hide the scars a little. She sprayed Jim's favorite perfume, TABU, in the air and had me walk through the mist, after telling me to exhale forcefully while doing so, since perfumes can irritate my lungs. 

Janey and I heard the garage door go up. She air-kissed me and scooted out the back. She was going to come back later and help me change when I speed dialed her on my phone. I took up my place in the living room and waited, my bare stumps twitching like a horse's tail in my nervousness.

I heard Jim drop his bags in the den. Then total silence, followed by the sound of retching from the hall bathroom.

FUCK! With a surge of adrenaline, I realized I'd left the journal on the table by the couch in the den! My heart sank as I imagined what was going through his head, and I knew that somehow, I had to fix this.

I sat on the floor of the bathroom, staring out the door at the end table by the couch. My mouth tasted like puke, and I wasn't sure I was done throwing up yet. I'd run dozens of scenarios I'd run through my mind in the last few weeks, but this wasn't one of them.

 I was certain beyond a doubt that I had left the journal hidden in the back drawer of the DVD cabinet, and I was just as certain that Ann would have never gone looking there. So much for certainty. I now believed that there was every reason to believe that the next time Ann saw me would be that last. I was filled with the sickening feeling that what she found on those pages would be so abhorrent to her, so damning that she would tell me to leave forever. I looked back on the contents of the journal and wished with all my heart that I'd never started it. Or the one before it, or the first one, back when I was in junior high. It had been that long.

I remembered with total clarity the first amputee I'd ever seen. His name was Stephen, and he sat beside me in the third grade. Looking back, I think he must have been a congenital SAK, because he also had a thumb which apparently had no bones inside it, which was almost as fascinating as his missing left leg. He had a noisy, squeaky leg, probably wooden, and a big leather belt and shoulder strap affair with his name on it, as if it could have gotten misplaced. I can just see it, "Gee I wonder if this is my missing leg?" some little kid says, hopping into the lost and found. "Nope, this one says Stephen."

Then, in Middle school, there was Kathleen. Her locker was next to mine in the middle hallway. She wore dresses almost exclusively, and her left arm stump was perpetually hidden inside the sleeves. She never moved her stump, keeping it stiffly at her side. I helped her get water out of the fountain a couple of times, as she stooped slightly, her mini dress sliding up her thighs. Mt eyes, however, were locked on her empty sleeve as she drank. One time, the cloth of her sleeve brushed my hand, and I thought I would pass out and fall over. I never thought about it, but she was older than me, and the fall took on a more somber edge, when I arrived in school to find that she had graduated the prior spring. I had a new girl next to me, one who filled out her angora sweaters much more amply than had Kathleen, but unfortunately the sleeves were full, too. I saw Kathleen several years later, in the park by my house, on the 4th of July, I think. She was wearing a tank top, and she held her small purse in the elbow crook of her LBE stump. I followed her for an hour or more, thrilled by her apparent new ease in regard to her stump. In contrast to her conservative days of junior high, it was in constant motion, pointing and gesturing, hugging and touching her friends as they walked. 

The list went on in my mind, and for the first time, I found myself wondering if I should seek counseling for this fascination.

I thought about the word 'fascination' and decided it wasn't appropriate in the least. One might be fascinated by butterflies, but one would not behave contrary to all expectations of normality to follow a butterfly for hours in a shopping mall, hoping to see the butterfly unfurl its wings just one more time. Following a person in a mall is not called fascination, it's called stalking. Stalking didn't fit either, though; I never intended to do anything to the person at any time, other than to observe. 

For better or worse, 'Devotee' seemed to be the most accurate term. "One who is ardently devoted to something or someone." 

 I would have sworn that I had been ardently devoted to Ann, even before she'd been so cruelly crippled. Imagine my confusion and disgust when I realized that, even as I cried in regret for Ann's amputations, I had been sporting one of the most intense erections of my entire life!

My regret now filled me to the brim, along with the certainty that whatever happened in the future, it would be too late to save me from losing the most precious, fulfilling relationship I was ever likely to have. 

I rose, checked myself in the mirror for evidence of my interlude with the commode, and then stepped into the den. Any thoughts of trying to talk my way out of this had evaporated as soon as they had inserted themselves into my mind, and so I went in search of my beloved, intending to stand before her with my head bowed in humility as I apologized and said goodbye to her. 

 When I heard Jim in the den bathroom, I panicked. All of our preparations had been based on a joyful homecoming, and now I didn't know what to do. I was plainly dressed to seduce rather than console, and there was no time for me to change my clothes, even if I had been able to do so myself. I didn't really know what I would have changed into, anyway. 

All I could do was to change the venue from the bedroom to somewhere less sexual and more comforting, and that meant our favorite place, a bench overlooking the koi pond. I made my way quickly, and sat down just as Jim made his way out the back door. I was so nervous I was shaking, and my stumps twitched spastically. I was angry at myself for several things. First and foremost, I was angry at myself for leaving the journal where he found it. It was an honest mistake, but one which had already caused unnecessary heartache. Secondly, I was angry for overreacting to the book itself. If I had taken the time to read it instead of having a fit, I would have seen the words describing a man's unbelievable love and compassion for his partner. 

Nervous tears fell from my eyes, and I let them. I heard Jim's footsteps on the garden path. I stood, turned, held my stumps out and silently said, "I'm so sorry."

I walked slowly through the house, paying close attention to all the things that represented our love. The cheap souvenirs from the places we'd been together. A vial of sand from Kill Devil Hill, where the Wright brothers flew. A pine cone from Crater Lake.

A pressed flower in a frame from the first bouquet I'd brought her. A candle from her niece, a child I'd likely never see again. By the time I'd complete my tour in search of Ann, I felt like howling in rage and anguish for my stupidity.

 As I walked out the back doors onto the patio, I saw her sitting on the bench in the Japanese garden we'd built together, nearly obscured by the wisteria and passionflower vines. My sorrow settled upon me like a leaden cloak, and I trudged toward her slowly, walking toward my date with death, tears streaming down my face. 

She stood and turned toward me, her pitiful stumps outstretched, and I said, "I'm so sorry."



The Journal Ch. 03



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.



 As the two tormentors stood at the other end of the room collecting their tools for the culprit's next session, I took the opportunity to make further contact with the young man. I walked over to the table where he was strapped and examined his abused body. The tormentors had foolishly tied the ropes too tightly around his ankles and wrists. I could tell that they were hurting him. I looked over at the men and decided that I had ample time to loosen the ropes. There was no need for him to suffer during this much needed rest bit. Besides, after the whipping and thorough fucking that he had received, there was no way he would be able to resist his next punishment, let alone put up a fight. 

 After loosening the ropes, I made the calculated decision to once again look him in the eyes. I knew I was acting foolish. My job was simply to report on the punishment. I had done that many times in the past without once looking at the culprit I was reporting on. Yet now I was going to face this young man for the second time. What made this young man so special that I was willing to risk feeling.... What, exactly? Sympathy? Or was it something more?

 I followed the thin trail of hair that led from his beautiful cock up to his belly and I continued to follow it until it disappeared into his hairless chest. Finally, I came face to face with the young man. His beautiful eyes burned into my soul. I immediately knew I had made a terrible mistake. But I continued, anyway. 

 "What is your name?" I whispered to him.

 His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but then he heard a noise coming from the other side of the room and stark fear returned to his face. 

 "Shhhh," I tried to reassure him. I looked over at the two men. They were taking their time. "You are safe for now". 

 The young man studied my face. He had reason to trust me, even if I couldn't stop the tormentors from ravishing his body with their whips and their cocks. He spoke slowly and with a sweet voice that revealed just how innocent and young he was. 

 "My name is Elias, sir."

 "What are you doing here, boy?"

 He looked at me with confusion, so I put the question another way.

 "What did you do to be brought down here?"

 Elias thought for a moment and then spoke in hushed tones.

 "I was accused of making affections with the master's daughter."

 I must have made a face that revealed how serious I thought his predicament was because he quickly added, "But it is untrue". 

 I barely had a chance to acknowledge his claim when he started pleading with me, rather loudly.

 "Please don't let them hurt me anymore. I am not guilty of the acts they accused me of. Please make them stop!"

 His cries caught the attention of the two men on the other side of the room and they started to make their way over. 

 "Shut your mouth, boy, or I'm going to stuff my cock in it," the dark haired tormentor shouted.

 I quickly reached for a handkerchief and used it as a gag on poor Elias. I couldn't risk having him say something to further antagonize his tormentors. He looked at me with terror in his eyes and I barely had time to say anything before the two men were upon us. I simply said, "Sorry". 

 The tormentors pushed me out of the way and immediately got to work on the boy. The dark haired man slapped Elias across the face several times while the blond haired man twisted at his already sore nipples. I returned to my notebook and pretended that I didn't care about the muffled cries of pain coming from the young man.

 After a few minutes, the tormentors stepped back from the table and examined the culprit tied up before them. Without a word spoken between them, they agreed to begin the next session of sexual torment. 

 Elias had exploded semen from his cock four times during the previous sessions. It left him exhausted and his young cock tender to the touch. It wasn't a surprise that he cried out when the Dark haired tormentor (I shall call him Darky for the remainder of this account) took Elias' cock in his mouth. Elias writhed in torment within his (secretly) loosened ropes as Darky sucked at his cock with all his might. This continued on for a few minutes until the tormentor reached under the culprit and shoved a finger up into his ass. Elias arched his back and pushed up from the table in a futile attempt to escape. The ropes may have been loosened, but they were still intact. He even tried to squeeze his firm cheeks together in a desperate bid to keep his ass from getting finger fucked. But Darky prevailed and wasted no time finding the boy's sphincter. Within a minute of intense pumping, Elias once again came. 

 Darky pulled away as the boy pushed out his load. As the last drops rolled down the young man's cock, the Blond tormenter (Blondie, hence forth) stepped forward and wiped the it clean. He then reached into a bucket and pulled out a cloth that was dripping with hot water. It was not enough to burn the young man, but enough to cause great discomfort on his already sensitive cock. Blondie wrapped the cloth around Elias' shaft and squeezed. In the meantime, Darky had retrieved a wet cloth from another bucket. This bucket was filled with ice cold water. After a few seconds, Blondie removed his cloth and returned it to his bucket as his partner wrapped his cloth on the culprit's cock. They repeated this several times.

 The sounds coming from behind Elias' gag confirmed that this was indeed worse than the whipping and fucking he had received by the two men. I recorded the few sounds I could make out from the young man.

 "Oh God. My cock. Oh God, no more, please!"

 This went on for a few minutes before the two tormentors put down their cloths for good. Elias' cock stood at attention before them. This time, Blondie went in for the kill. His mouth swallowed Elias' entire cock in one motion and he quickly began bobbing up and down. It didn't take long for Elias to succumb. As his cock erupted, the boy twitched in his restraints as if he were being electrocuted. 

 I wish I could report that they had finished punishing Elias' cock with that ejaculation. But, the truth is that they continued sucking the life out of the boy at least three more times before they called it quits for the night. By the last eruption of his cock, Elias had no more cum to give. His body simply quivered for a few seconds as he mercifully fell unconscious.



The Journal Ch. 04



In an instant, my world went as silent as my own voice. We stood, Jim and I, looking at each other in the garden, while the planets ceased to rotate around us as if they, too, were waiting for this singular issue to resolve into focus. 

I looked up at my friend, and just above his tear stained face, a silver strand glinted in the golden afternoon light, and as if choreographer by a cosmic comedian, a gigantic brown garden spider dropped gracefully and silently onto Jim's left shoulder. 

If there is one chink in my shining knight's glorious armor, it is spiders. I have seen James Edward Owens face down carjackers. I have watched as he converted belligerent drunks into new friends, and I have even seen him put my mom in her place when she went too far in her criticisms of me. He is absolutely powerless against spiders, however, and has been known to cower far behind me as I slip a drinking glass over an eight legged offender and transport it outdoors.

In the flick of an eyelash, our magical moment of reconciliation was transformed into a Three Stooges movie. Jim was looking deeply into my eyes, and when they traveled to the spider descending onto his shirt, he tracked their target. With observation comes comprehension, and comprehension is followed by action. 

Instead of tilting at windmills, my knight became one. As his two eyes met the spider's ten, a sharp, high pitched keening issued forth, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't from the spider. Jim's right arm began to flail at his left shoulder, not actually touching it, while his left arm just stuck out in front of him and flapped. 

He spun to his left, eyes wildly searching for his nemesis as he turned, arms still wind milling randomly. By this time, I had seen the spider rappel to safety and crawl into a Japanese maple at the edge of the path. 

I moved toward Jim, waving my stumps and jumping to get his attention. I said his name several times, but in the excitement, I forgot all about my trach, so of course no sound came out. I pulled air into my stomach and croaked, "Stop!" 

Jim coasted to a stop, noting at last that the spider was gone. He looked at me sheepishly, his breath coming in rapid gasps. I smiled a little, shaking my head a little at my brave hero. His smile got broader, and he started to chuckle and then to laugh. It was such a ludicrous moment that I started to laugh too. It started as a little hiss under my chin, and soon I had my head against his chest and my stumps were beating softly against him and he was holding me. Imagine a 95 pound snake laughing, and that's what you'd have heard underneath Jim's guffaws. He held onto my waist and we laughed some more. My eyes met his and our foreheads touched.

It felt so good to be happy.

"Can you ever forgive me for that book, Ann?" Jim said softly.

"I already…have." I replied. "I didn't mean…to leave it…out like that…and I'm sorry…you got so…upset."

"It's okay. It was on my list of things to go over this week anyway." 

Very, very slowly, our lips touched, and we shared one of those kisses you only get a few of in your whole life. The kind where your lips say everything your heart is thinking. Let me tell you right away that as awful as having a permanent trach can be, kissing is a serious benefit. 

I leaned into Jim and stroked the side of his face with my long stump. He responded with a reflexive squeeze of my ass, as well as a deep moan. My nipples ached and pounded with my pulse, and I rubbed them from side to side on his chest as he looked down at the projections they made in the soft bamboo shirt. Jim pulled my hips toward him, my big clit buzzing like a hornet when it bumped his jeans. I put my lips next to his ear and began to speak, using nothing but the sound of the saliva moving around in my mouth to form my words. I was pretty sure some of them were totally unintelligible, but he seemed to listen very carefully as I told him how hot he was, and how I was going to fulfill every little dream he'd ever had. I took a step back, shook my chest a little, slid my stump alongside my right tit, bending the huge nipple as my arm slid past it, and licked a circle around the end of my right stump.

Jim stared at me with glazed eyes, and then he gasped and came in his pants. 

Okay ladies, how many of you can say that you are so appealing to your man that he cums just from looking at you? I have to tell you that it is about the biggest ego boost you could ever imagine. I was stunned, and suddenly I realized that I was the walking fulfillment of every sexual dream this man had ever had, and that knowledge changed everything.

I turned my right side to him and beckoned with my stump for him to follow me. I walked carefully across the black stones of the patio, following the pools of light left by the low voltage canisters. I hadn't been in heels since I'd lost my arms, and it was all I could do to walk on the uneven surface, let alone put the sway in my hips that I knew turned Jim on. Then I remembered that I possessed a new set of toys, and I began to swing my stumps as if there were still arms hanging from them. As I passed under an archway wreathed in blooming wisteria, Jim caught up to me and put his hands gently on my arm stumps. He bent and breathed gently into my ear, his teeth clicking on the 00 gauge glass plug in my lobe. His hands cupped my tender stubs gently, rolling the skin lightly as I made little circles with them. 

"I can feel the bones moving inside your skin," he whispered. 

I sighed in contentment as his hands slid down my ribs and came up in front, a swollen nipple in each. As he pulled and twisted lightly, an ancient rhythm overtook my hips, causing them to pump and circle slowly.

His right hand slid below my skirt and he took my clit between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled it straight out, and I was able to look down and see it, glistening wetly as it slid out of its hood. His middle finger curled under me and he released my clit. I moaned silently as his finger drew a strand of my moisture out three inches, until it sagged and broke, leaving a pearl of fluid hanging from it on a delicate tether. He brought it to my mouth, and looked at me as he dropped it on my tongue. I tasted musky and tart.

Ann stood before me as my mind processed her words. She'd forgiven me! I looked at my best friend and lover. She stood before me in a soft green sleeveless shirt, breasts offered to me on an open shelf bra, huge nipples trying to pierce their way through the delicate material of the shirt. A mini skirt enveloped her lush hips in satin, and her erect clit was outlined in the material. Her beautiful legs strained against her three inch heels, lovely ankles flexing to keep her balanced. Annie's face was angelic, deep red lips quivering slightly with emotion, her eyes damp with tears. Her eyes pleaded with me for understanding.

And then, her gaze shifted. My eyes followed her to my shoulder, where a spider the size of a patio umbrella focused his ten bloodshot eyes on me, unfolded his bloody four inch fangs and said, "BOO!"

I really don't remember much about what happened after that, and my dear love Ann is no help recounting the tale at all. One mention of the event, and she dissolves into fits of giggles, but more on that later. I do remember the world spinning out of control as I tried to pry the spider's immense fangs out of my neck before it dissolved my internal workings into juice and sucked me hollow.

Or not.

As you may have guessed, I am a total weenie when it comes to spiders, and Ann knows it. 

So, somewhere in about my fifteenth revolution, I realize that Ann is jumping up and down, trying to get my attention. Under normal circumstances, Ann jumping up and down is an event to sell tickets for. I mean, her tits are more spectacular than any I have ever seen. They are really big, and they move like they are alive. Her nipples are placed low on her boobs, which she hates, but they are so big and dark that I can't get enough of them. Constantly erect, she tries fruitlessly to hide them in padded bras. But not tonight; tonight they are in a shelf bra she hardly ever wears, displayed for me to see under a sleeveless shirt so thin it looks painted on. As she bounces, her stumps flail on their own, a devotees wet dream on three inch heels. Her ruby lips are moving, but I can't hear anything but my heart trying to leap out of my chest, and my own girlish squealing.

"Stop!" she finally croaked. 

I stand still, panting from the exertion of running for my life. The spider has slunk away somewhere, possibly in search of a small mastodon to drain, and now I'm embarrassed.

Ann's head tilts into a familiar pose and the little grin begins. I start to laugh at myself, and soon, Annie is grinning and that little noise is coming out of her stoma. She does not seem to be self conscious of it like before, and pretty soon, she is bent over, laughing her ass off, but I can barely hear her. I move to be near her and take her by the hips, feeling at that moment that she has no panties on. She rests her head on my chest, and her little arms are patting me gently, affectionately. I bent to be at her level and put my head against hers as our eyes met.

We spoke apologies and assurances to each other, and then she tipped her lips up to me and we kissed. For a little while it was as sweet and loving a kiss as I'd ever received, one for the record books. And then it changed. Her lips became more insistent, and I felt her long stump begin to caress my face, as sexy a feeling as I could imagine. I grabbed her magnificent ass and pulled her to me, heard her intake of air and saw her grimace in pleasure as her big clit bumped against my jeans.

Ann slid her face over to my ear and my dick got even harder as I realized that she was trying to talk dirty to me! She was not using her esophageal speech, just the sounds of the saliva moving around inside her mouth. I could only understand certain words, but it was so fucking erotic that I felt my balls tighten. My little girl backed up, slid her tongue out and slid it across her lower lip from left to right. With a roll of her shoulders that made her tits sway, she stretched her stump and tongue toward each other until they touched, and then licked around the end as she looked up at me. My vision blurred, and I shot a huge load of cum into my pants!

When my eyes were able to open and uncross, Ann was looking into them with triumph and lust. She turned toward the house, and the motion of her right stump made it clear that I was supposed to follow (like wild horses could have prevented it).

Her walk in heels has always been amazing, but coupled with the sway of her hips and the twitching of her little arms, I had to catch up and touch her. I slid my arms around her and held her stumps gently, reveling as she rolled them around, moving the humerus bones inside the loose skin. I told her how sexy it was, then nibbled on her earlobe, resisting the urge to suck the glass plug out and run my tongue around the inside of the 11mm hole. 

My hands found her nips again, and then one slid to her clit. Projecting off of her pubic bone like a fleshy hood ornament, I held it like a little cock and stretched it out away from her pussy, feeling it pulsing beneath its hood. I pinched it rhythmically, and soon her hips found the rhythm.

The scent of her humid dampness reached my nose, and I dipped my middle finger between her fleshy lips. A string of mucous joined my finger to her, and I raised my hand to her lips, dropping a sample onto her tongue.

I opened her skirt and let it drop to the ground, then pulled her top off over her head. She shook her head and, looking over her shoulder, began to walk to the back door. I stood, paralyzed by the sight of her naked ass in the heels as she walked. She stopped, turned. She started back to me, her runway model walk launching her breasts into lewd, lovely orbits. 

"Like what you…see, mister?" she burped.

"Like nothing I've ever seen before." I answered. I kissed her again, our tongues swirling, and then unfastened her bra, letting it fall until it caught on her outstretched stumps. One at a time, she lowered them, until the bra fell and her breasts coasted to a stop. She resumed her walk, circling the pool, while I got harder and harder, watching all her various naughty bits in motion. Her stumps were constantly in motion, and her breasts were unbelievable to watch. As she completed her lap of the pool, I was totally erect again.

 The transformation of Ann into an even more outgoing person than before the accident was thrilling, and puzzling all at the same time. I didn't understand it, but I also wasn't going to question it.

As she stood modeling for me, I stepped up to her and took her clit between my fingers and led her through the back door. Her breathing was rapid, and her eyes dropped to half mast as I led her through the kitchen and down the hall. As we entered the bedroom, she slowed and stopped. I released her and turned. She pointed with her littlest stump and I sat on the bed.

 Jim reached around from behind me and unfastened my skirt, dropped it to the ground, and then he pulled my shirt over my head. As soon as it cleared my face, I walked a couple of steps toward the house, and then turned and pranced back toward him, making sure my breasts bobbled as I walked. I asked him if he liked what he saw, and he made the appropriate smitten comments. He drew me into a kiss, and unhooked my bra while we were close. I raised my stumps and caught the bra before it fell, then let it drop off one arm at a time. My boobs swung for a while, and then stopped, Jim's eyes locked on them. I decided to take a lap around the pool, just to draw out the anticipation a little. I really threw myself into it, doing the Victoria's Secret strut. My boobs were almost wild, and my stumps were definitely online as well. I stood in front of him again and hit a pose, and less than a second later, Jim was using my clit as a handle, and we were headed for the bedroom. I was almost ready to cum when Jim released me. I pointed to the bed and he sat, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. 

Slipping out of my shoes, I took his belt in my toes and managed to undo it. The little hopping steps I was forced to take really allowed me to accentuate my handicaps for Jim, and his face absolutely shone in wonder. I undid his slacks with my mouth, and he stood, stepping out of his pants. I slid my right stump into his boxers and pulled them down until they dropped, then pushed him back down with gentle pressure on his chest with my littlest stump. 

Jim looked at me with an intensity I had never seen before. He was aware of my tiniest movements, so acute was his gaze. My shoulders had certainly softened in the past few weeks, but my stumps still occasionally anticipated the movements of my missing arms and moved entirely on their own. I envisioned my hands taking Jim's penis in a loving grasp, watching in my peripheral vision as my little armlets made stroking motions. I kneeled in front of him and leaned forward. Bracing my stumps on his thighs, I kissed his cock just once, then moved forward and blew hot air onto him from my stoma. He shuddered in pleasure, and as he closed his eyes, I took him completely into my mouth in one swift movement, bumping my nose on his stomach as I ate him.

"Aah!" he crowed, completely surprised. I pulled my head back and looked at him as I licked him gently, then slammed my head back down on him. I left my face buried in his groin and began to attempt to swallow him, my throat muscles pulling him in. He reached around and put his hand on my throat, touching my skin as he felt his cock plunging in and out of my neck. My right stump caressed his balls, and as I felt them draw up, I lifted my head off him and stood. 

I leaned toward him and began to fumble at his shirt buttons with my stumps. I was pretty sure I had the ability to undo them, but I admit to making a big deal out of fumbling and pretending to be frustrated. Jim wasn't helping by twisting my nipples and flicking my clit. I finally got him undone, and slid the shirt down his arms. 

He smelled male, and he smelled like sex. I bent forward, almost overbalancing since I had no way to support my upper body, until my forehead touched his. My breasts raked so, so slowly across his chest, and I could feel each hair through my hypersensitive nipples. Jim cupped my shoulders in his hands, merely counterbalancing me as I moved. I slid forward until his cock rested insistently against my ass, and a quick squirm moved it to the entrance of my pussy. I pushed, and it slid home in one smooth stroke. I sighed contentedly, and it actually sounded like a sigh. I sat up and felt the pressure shift to the front wall of my vagina and onto the spongy pad of tissue that formed my G-spot. Jim knew what I was doing, and his hips began to dance up and down about an inch, and I felt the warm gentle pinch of a G-spot orgasm swirling around my pelvis. Just as my hips began to complement Jim's in motion, he took my nipples in his fingers and pulled gently outward, stretching my breasts away from me. Out of absolutely nowhere, my vagina clenched and an earth-shattering orgasm swept me. I shouted silent words of passion as the heat claimed me, my breath blowing hot against the bottom of my chin. Jim took my hips in his big hands and began to lift and drop me on his cock. I tensed my legs to help him, and my teeth bared in a grimace of lust as I met his eyes with mine. Between us, my breasts began to lope to their own rhythm, slapping against my tummy on the rebound. Always before at this point, I would have cupped them in my hands, both to stop the jarring motion from hurting, and to pull my nipples between my fingers. As I bounced on his dick, Jim stared at my tits as they leapt as if trying to escape from my chest, then looked at my stumps, which were flailing just as wildly.

Little grunts began to escape from my mouth as I bounced, literally generated by the motion of my body. Rather than let them go to waste, I began to use them to whisper.

"Oh….Jim…this…is…the…great…est…sex…in…the…world…I...love…you…so…much…don't…slow…down…I'm…cum…ming…fuck…me…ba…by…fuck…me…fuck…me!"

With an animal-like sound, Jim erupted deep inside my body, and the feeling of it pushed me over the edge as well. I came so hard my teeth hurt.

I fell off of Jim onto my left side. We lay on the bed facing each other, smiling. My little left stump disappeared into the mattress under me, and I lay my head on Jim's outstretched bicep without another arm between us. It was strangely pleasant and intimate, and we soon slept.



The Journal Ch. 04



Elias had escaped his tormentors by drifting into unconsciousness. I was relieved. Every square inch of his body had been whipped. He had been fucked repeatedly in his mouth and his ass. And his cock had been abused until even a small breath on its head made him wince. 

With his tormentors in the other room resting up for the next punishment session, I stole a moment to gaze at the beautiful young man tied to the table. Every muscle was taut and covered with a shiny sheen of sweat. His cock, resting on his left leg, was still thick from his last erection. I watched as it periodically twitched. After a few minutes, I took my gaze away from his midsection and stared at his beautiful, hairless chest. He was breathing heavy. I watched each rise and fall until I was satisfied that his body was finally resting. And I recorded it all in the official records. Afterwards, I picked up my secret journal and wrote these remembrances. 

I watched him on the table for half of an hour. I didn't dare move him or untie his ropes. I wanted him to rest. He was going to need every bit of strength he could muster to survive what his tormenters had planned for him next. 

I was about to walk out to get some air when I heard the main door open in the other room. I listened to the boots as they came down the steps and realized it could only be one person. In all my years working for the Master, I had never seen him enter this chamber when a session was underway. He would always demand a report from me when it was over by having me read from the records I kept. Thankfully, he never became aware of my personal journal. 

I quickly hid the book and returned to the records just as he entered the room. The Master nodded at me and then looked over at Elias.

"I expect that the boy has been thoroughly fucked already?" 

He walked over to the table and rested a hand on the culprit's stomach. 

"Yes, Master."

The Master ran his hand up to Elias' mouth and rested his fingers on the boy's lips.

"How many times has his ass been entered?"

I quickly flipped through the records to try and calculate but it was not fast enough for the Master. 

"Was it more than three?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

Elias began to stir on the table. The Master removed his hand and stepped back. He looked straight at me as if to ask me another question. I looked back at his handsome face and when he didn't say anything, I let my gaze wander down to his crotch. He was fully erect in his tight pants. His voice brought me back to his blue eyes.

"I will be staying for the next session. Fetch me a comfortable chair."

I stood frozen in my spot. Had I heard correctly? Only a few seconds went by, but they seemed to last an hour. 

"Now." The Master said. His voice was not angry, yet.

"Yes, sir." I ran into the adjoining room to look for a chair that would please the Master. I spotted one in the corner and went to pick it up when a sound coming from the other room stopped me in my tracks. It was Elias. He was moaning. I stood absolutely still so that I could hear everything clearly. Another moan. Then, he spoke. I could tell from his tone that he was in discomfort. I made a mental note of every sound so that I could record it in my journal when the Master left.

"Please, no!" Elias moaned. "Please stop."

"You will remain still, boy!" The Master said. His voice was strangely calm. 

"Ohhhh! Ohhhhh God!" I couldn't tell if Elias was in pain or not.

"You are still tight. Good."

I had heard enough. I grabbed the chair and made my way back to the Master. When I entered, I saw Elias squirming on the table and pushing up on his ropes. In a moment, I saw why. The Master had two fingers placed up the boy's asshole and was wiggling them mercilessly. I cleared my throat and the Master turned around to see me at the door. 

"Good. Now, go get the men."

I brought the chair to the side of the table and slowly walked to the door. I glanced back as I left, hoping that the Master would sit and leave poor Elias' ass alone. But, just as I got to the doorway, the Master jabbed a third finger into the abused hole. I quickly walked away as Elias cried out in agony. 

I didn't have to walk far. Darky and Blondie, Elias' tormentors, were on their way back. 

"Get out of our way." They pushed past me. Their cocks were hard and ready for action. I turned to see them standing at the door. They weren't expecting the Master, either. I watched as their ass cheeks clenched in surprise. I smirked. They were going to have to give the performance of their life. And they knew it.



The Journal Ch. 05



When I came back into the chamber, the two tormentors were with the Master on the other side of the room. The Master had removed his clothes so that he, too, was naked. His cock was at full attention. I was not sure which of the men were going to carry out the next round of punishment on the culprit, but I knew it didn't matter. All three cocks could easily ravish the boy's poor ass. 

I looked at Elias. He was still lying on the table; limbs loosely tied to rope. His beautiful eyes were pleading with me to come over. I couldn't resist. The three men were deep into planning and they were paying me no attention. I walked to the table and put my hand on Elias' cheek. I was wiping some of the sweat from his forehead when he spoke. It was in a whisper. Again, I couldn't believe how youthful and innocent this young man sounded. My heart ached. For a brief moment, I even imagined untying him and sneaking him out of the chamber for good. But where would we run? The plantation was on an island. No boats ever came to its docks. As far as I could remember, no one ever left the island... except for the Master. 

I put my head down so that it almost rested on his chest. I could feel Elias' hot breath on my ear as he spoke. Being so close to his lips was unbearable. 

"I did not have affections with the girl. I am innocent."

"I know."

"Why does the Master not believe me? I have never done anything to betray him? I am a good worker."

I smiled at him. After noticing his muscles earlier, I had come to the same conclusion. His tone body was that of someone who worked hard and long hours in the plantation heat. If there was one ounce of fat on him, I had yet to find it.

"It was Andrew," Elias continued, "I was trying to stop him when the Master caught us."

This was very interesting. I had heard nothing of Andrew being scheduled for punishment. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the men were ending their conversation. I quickly stood up and began writing in the official records. But, mentally, I was keeping Elias' story safe for a later entry into my secret journal. 

Darky and Blondie made their way over to Elias as the Master slowly returned to the chair I had brought him. Blondie was holding a jar of oil that he brought over from the other side of the room. From the puffs of steam coming from it, I could tell that it had been warmed. Unceremoniously, Blondie poured the oil on Elias' belly. All of the boy's muscles contracted at once, and he let out a cry. Thankfully, it was just a cry of surprise. The oil was not burning his skin. 

All at once, the two men got to work on Elias. They rubbed the oil into every part of his beaten body, mixing it in with the layer of sweat that already covered him from head to toe. Then, they untied his ropes and flipped him over. As they rubbed the oil into the boy's back I watched as they looked greedily at his ass. They both grinned as they began working the oil into Elias' ass cheeks. Finally, after they had massaged the oil into his legs, they flipped him back around. 

I studied Elias' face. The boy looked confused. What exactly was his next punishment going to be, he must have been thinking. His eyes shifted back and forth from tormentor to tormentor. Then, they turned to me. I wish I could tell him that it was over, but the fact was that his ordeal had only just begun.

Darkie reached for the boy's arms and easily pulled him up to a sitting position. He placed Elias at the edge of the table and stood before him. 

He took each of the boy's legs and wrapped them around his midsection. Then, he placed his hands under each of the boy's armpits and lifted him into the air. He pulled him in to his chest. Cupping the boy's ass cheeks in his hand, Darkie turned around so that he was now sitting on the edge of the table. Being slippery from the oil, Elias began to slide down into Darkie's lap. When his ass crack rested on the man's large cock head, Elias' survival instincts went into action. He hooked his feet together in a desperate attempt to keep from being entered. But Darkie would have nothing of it. He simply removed his hands from under the culprit's ass and let gravity do its thing. The tormentor's cock slowly slipped between Elias' cheeks, spreading them open for the penetration. 

Darkie and Elias were now face to face. Darkie looked into the boy's beautiful eyes and smirked. Elias tried one last attempt to stop the man's cock from entering his asshole. He clenched his ass cheeks together as hard as he could. But, after only a few seconds, exhausted from his previous punishment, he resolved that there was no way he was going to be able to stop the onslaught. 

"Oh God. Please, No. No. No." He whimpered, softly.

Darkie never stopped looking at Elias as he impaled the poor boy onto his massive cock. The boy's head snapped back and he almost fell onto the floor, but darkie quickly placed his hands on his waist and pulled him in. He was now ready to give the culprit the ride of his life. 

Lifting Elias up so that his cock was almost out of the boy's ass, the tormentor placed both of his feet firmly on the ground. Confident that he was balanced and steady, he let Elias slide back down until his cock was once again buried deep inside of him. Then, the ride began. Using the boy's hips as handles, Darkie lifted and lowered Elias with an ever-increasing rhythm, going deeper and deeper into the boy's ass with each thrust.

Elias groaned and cried out for mercy but Darkie continued the fucking for ten more minutes. Then, as Blondie moved over to the table, Darkie stopped the ride. Elias had seen the other tormentor come over to the table and he gave me a panicked look. I suppose he thought that his ass was going to be given the same treatment from Blondie; that the two tormentors would switch off. He was wrong. He could not have been more wrong if he had tried. 

Darkie wrapped his arms around the boy's midsection and pulled him in close. Then, he leaned back until the two of them were lying on the table. All the while, his cock was still buried deep in the boy's ass. Elias, nervous and uncomfortable, began to fidget. 

"Hold still, boy, or this will go a lot worse for you." Blondie said.

Darkie shifted to the edge of the table so that his ass almost hung off the end. Blondie quickly placed some wooden blocks under Darkie's feet so that they were steady. He then straddled Darkie's legs. Holding his cock in his hand, he nestled himself up to Elias' stretched ass. For a minute or two, Blondie toyed with the boy. He slid his cock up and down his crack and smacked Elias' ass cheeks with it. Apparently, the boy was oblivious to what was about to happen, for he didn't utter a single protest. 

Then it happened. Blondie was done fooling around. He rested his cock head on Darkie's shaft as their balls intermingled. Using one hand to push down on Darkie's cock, he used his other hand to guide his cock into the quivering asshole. Suddenly, Elias knew what was about to happen.

"Oh god! No! Please! That will kill me. Make them stop, please!" 

I realized that the boy was crying out to me. I took a deep breath. I was helpless to act. All I could do was watch and record as Blondie pushed his way up the culprit's ass. 

Elias cried out. "Oh No! Please stop! Oh My God!"

When Blondie was sure that he was deep enough inside of Elias' ass, he put out his arms to help Darkie rise up from the table. They now had poor Elias sandwiched between them. They began gyrating and pumping up into the boy's ass mercilessly. Elias stopped pleading for help and began grunting. His eyes rolled back in his head as he was about to pass out. But Darkie slapped the boy back into conciseness. Then Darkie and Blondie began gnawing at the boy's body; sucking and kissing and biting at the culprit as they both fucked him hard.

It was a long time before they both came. I do believe that Elias had passed out before that. At least that is what I like to think. When they were done, the Master had them carry the boy to the center chamber. Elias' hands were tied to the rings above his head as before. This time, however, they left his legs free. Unconscious, Elias slumped forward, legs slightly bent at the knees.

The Master came over to the sweaty, oiled, well-fucked boy and rubbed his abused ass. With a sickening grin, he slapped it hard. 

"Uuuuufffff," Elias groaned. He was still unconscious. But that would not last long. The Master was going to whip the boy like he had never been whipped before. And, with my book in my hand, I recorded it all.



The Journal Ch. 06



Elias hung from the straps in the center of the room as the Master slowly circled him. A whip with several stands of cloth hung at his side. I had witnessed the Master use this very whip on many members of the island plantation. A few were slaves brought over on boats from across the ocean to help pick the fields, but most were white, young men who were brought to the plantation to work and pay back society for one crime or another. 

The Master smiled as he stopped in front of the boy. He suddenly fell to his knees so that his face was even with Elias' cock. He wound the strands of cloth loosely around the culprit's staff and kissed the head that poked out. 

"You are mine, " He was looking up at the unconscious boy. "You understand, that?"

Elias didn't make a sound. The Master stood up and put his face right up to his ear and repeated himself. 

"You understand that, boy?" He licked the Elias' ear when he didn't get a response. 

Then, without warning, he turned around and took a few steps away. The strands of the whip pulled and snapped at Elias' cock as they were ripped off. 

"Uuuuuggghhh!" Elias groaned. His eyes flew wide open and he began looking around in a panic... until he found me. His pleading eyes met mine and my heart sank. I wanted to help him, but I was powerless with the Master in the room.

I tried in vain to read the rest of his face, all the while writing feverishly in the records. Was he in pain or was he just surprised by his sudden jolt into consciousness. I was desperately hoping it was the latter. Suddenly, the door at the top of the staircase opened. Sunlight flooded in from the outside. I could see two guards holding a young man. The bright light made it hard for me to see exactly who it was, but his hair was sandy blond and his was clearly naked. 

Darkie and Blondie started over to the stairs to meet the other guards as they began their descent with the boy. His feet barely touched the ground as he was brutally hoisted up between them. When they got half way down, I was able to ascertain the identity of the young man. It was Andrew, the boy who Elias had caught making sexual advances on the Master's daughter... a charge that Elias had been accused of and was being wrongly punished for. 

"What have we here?" The Master asked. 

The two guards handed over Andrew to Darkie and Blondie who brought him over to the Master. 

"Well?" The Master grunted at the guards.

"We overheard him talking to another worker about the incident with... um... with your..."

The guard was afraid to say her name in front of the Master.

"I understand," The Master snapped back, "Continue!"

"He admitted that he was the one who was...um..."

The Master would have no more from the guards. 

"Dismissed!"

The two guards ran up the steps without looking back. Once the door was shut, the Master gestured for Darkie and Blondie to sit Andrew in the Sphincter Chair. Andrew cried out for the first time.

"Oh God, no! Please! I'll do anything!"

Andrew was positioned in the chair and the straps were secured despite his feeble attempt to negotiate. It was then that Elias first made eye contact with Andrew. Elias' eyes seemed to beg for the young man to come forward and admit his role in the incident. Andrew's eyes widened in fear; not just at the probe inserted into his ass, but at the sight of his abused and beaten friend hanging from the rings in the center of the room. 

"It seems to me that we have a problem here." The Master said in Andrew's direction. "Your friend, Elias, is being punished for making advances on my daughter. When I caught the two of you talking to her, I had Elias brought down to the Correction Chamber. I was about to punish you, too, but you so convincingly pled your case."

Elias looked towards me. I don't know what he expected me to be able to do. I quickly looked down at the record book in my hands and continued writing. Andrew closed his eyes and started quietly sobbing. Like Elias, this culprit sounded much younger than he was. I wanted to scream, "Let them both go! They're just boys!" 

"Open you eyes and stop crying. Now!" 

Andrew obeyed as the Master walked over to him.

In a calm voice, the Master said, "If you would like to make a confession, I will let your friend go."

I looked at Andrew then at Elias. Could his punishment finally be over? In the fifteen seconds that passed since the Master asked his question, I had hopes of meeting up with Elias outside this chamber. I had hopes that...

"Enough. There is no confession!" The Master shouted as he turned back toward Elias. 

I looked at Andrew. The boy had a tortured expression on his face, as if he were contemplating a tough decision. But, the expression turned to fear when he heard the Master speak again. 

"This culprit shall be whipped from head to toe, ten times in each spot!"

Before Elias could comprehend what had happened, the Master proceeded. He began by whipping the back of the boy's thighs ten times. He counted out loud for each of the smacks. Thankfully, the Master was loud enough to drown out some of the grunts and groans coming from Elias. Andrew had stopped sobbing. He was staring at his friend with a look of utter horror. 

After the Master was done with the first set of whippings, he began to work on the lower legs. Again, he counted to ten. After that, he moved up to Elias back. Then, his arms and shoulders. Each group of ten brought a new cry from poor Elias. The Master walked around the boy until he was standing in front of him. He continued his punishment. Ten whips to the boy's stomach. Ten whips to the boy's chest. Elias' cries of pain were now louder than the Master's counting. The front of his legs were beaten, then each of his inner thighs. After the Master beat Elias' feet, he threw down the whip. He walked back around to the other side of the culprit.

"Bring me the leather belt!" He grunted as he rubbed Elias' ass cheeks. 

Elias gasped in panic. "Oh God! No! Please!"

"Of course, we can end this all right now." The Master said as he took a step towards the Blond-haired boy in the chair. All eyes in the room went to Andrew. The boy took a deep breath and spoke.



The Journal Ch. 07



All eyes in the room were on the young man tied up in the chair. He was fidgeting as beads of sweat dripped down his face. No doubt he had to be uncomfortable with his young ass impaled on the probe, but that was not why he was fidgeting.

"Andrew," the master spoke in calm, measured tones, "you have something to say?"

I looked over at Elias. He, too, was fixated on the young man in the chair. I took the opportunity to survey the damage the master had inflicted on his body. Sweat covered every part of his brutally beaten skin. Every square inch had been whipped, except his ass. And his beautiful cheeks were about to be punished when Andrew called out.

"It was I," Andrew whispered.

"What? It was you who what? Speak up, boy!" the master shouted.

Andrew looked up at the Master and I saw his face in the light. Just like Elias, he looked more like a boy than a man. He bit down on his lower lip and pouted. Then he opened his mouth to speak.

"It was I who made advances on your daughter."

The room was silent. Darkie and Blondie smirked as if they knew what was about to happen. Elias let out a sigh and seemed to relax a bit in his straps. The Master said nothing as he walked towards Andrew. The boy in the chair had lowered his head again. When the Master reached Andrew, he put his hand under the boy's chin and gently lifted his head so that their eyes met. 

"I am glad that you have admitted your guilt."

Andrew began to whimper.

"Do you understand what is about to happen to you?"

Andrew nodded as his whimpering became louder.

"Put a gag in this culprit's mouth!"

Darkie quickly found a rag and began tying it around Andrew's head. Meanwhile, the Master snapped his fingers and indicated for Blondie to follow him back to Elias. 

"Cut him down." 

I watched as a little smile escaped Elias' lips. When the ropes that were holding him in place for his brutal beating were finally cut, Elias fell to the ground. He landed on his stomach with a thud. I watched as the Master bent down over Elias' body. Then he placed one of his hands on the boy's ass and began rubbing it. 

"Bring Andrew here." The Master barked out as one of his fingers slipped into Elias' asshole. 

I recorded the sounds coming from Elias as best I could in the official records. He moaned and made guttural sounds, while squirming on the floor in an unsuccessful attempt to get away from the Master's probing finger. When Andrew was brought over, the Master removed his finger.

"Remove Andrew's gag and give it to me."

Darkie looked at Blondie, confused. The moment of hesitation did not escape the Master.

"Now!"

Quickly, Darkie removed the gag. Andrew took a deep breath and began wiping the saliva from his face. But before the boy could completely dry his face, Darkie gave the gag to the Master and brought Andrew's arms behind his back. I watched what happened next with shock and horror. When Andrew had admitted to the wrongdoing, I was sure that poor Elias' punishment would be over. I was wrong. 

The Master took the tip of the gag and placed it between Elias' ass cheeks. Then, he slowly began forcing the cloth into the boy's asshole. At first Elias tried to squirm away once more. He didn't get more than a foot before Blondie got down on the floor and pinned his shoulders down. 

"Oh God! No! Please! I am Innocent." Elias cried out. 

But the Master ignored his pleas. He continued pushing the gag deeper and deeper into the poor boy's ass. I watched as Elias contorted his face, showing the level of discomfort he was facing. 

"Ooooooo God, Noooooo!" he cried out, as the last of the gag was shoved in. 

With only the tip of the gag sticking out of Elias' ass, the Master stood up. He walked over to Andrew and placed both of his hands on the boy's face. He caressed Andrew's cheeks and wiped away a tear that had fallen from his eyes. 

"Shhhhhh," he whispered into his ear, "As you can see, I am not yet done with your friend. In fact, his punishment and your punishment are going to continue... together."

Andrew took a quick breath in, as if he was surprised. Elias remained motionless on the floor. His ass cheeks were flexing in a futile attempt to expel the cloth stuffed deep within his bowels. I wrote furiously in my journal, unsure what the Master meant or why he was still punishing poor Elias. 

The Master left Andrew, who had begun whimpering again, and walked over to Elias. He placed his right foot on the small of Elias' back and bent down. He reached in to the boy's ass and took a firm grip of the tip of cloth. Then, in one continuous move, he quickly stood back up, pulling the entire cloth out of the culprit's ass. 

The friction caused by having the cloth so violently ripped out of his ass made Elias begin to convulse on the floor. I watched as the boy called out in pain. I wanted to run over to him and comfort him; to kiss him on his lips, to caress his beautiful ass. I wanted to turn him over and relieve his suffering by taking his young, abused cock into my mouth, once again. This time, I would not stop until he filled my mouth with his cum. But, I did none of these things. I watched and recorded as the Master had Elias brought to his feet. 

"It is time," The Master said, "for you two to get better acquainted."