Blog : Taking libations! Maddness over method !

Blogs > virtualcuzi > A Dirigible lost on the wind!

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2/19/2024 1:45 pm

Taking libations! Maddness over method !

I'd built up a trust with the b7y sharing his morning long walks through the bush.
We'd decided to give him a surprise and on that day I took him out to a friend of mine who had a small studio where he arranged and put together his new age music.
The boy boggled at the sea of controls but liked to play with the instruments he was given to try.
Music would become the cure basically and seeing the k*ds joy at producing sound reminded me at how wrong I'd got it when growing up.
There it was silence that drew me into conflict with time.
My silent world memories still haunted me and how different it should have been made me postulate about if i'd taken a different track and avoided the road I'd taken.
When we arrived back the b8ys own studio had been setup waiting for his surprised look, and after some time he seated himself at the drum set and played along to the music I was playing.
So I was doing my job, progressing along the lines of a cure and one day who knew where it would go. maybe survival as people often succumbed to mental diseases.
A short life of highs and lows.
I was being taken along on a much higher level now, a kind of uncharted territory. Still music though and it gave me ideas about the whole scheme of things, that by taking a glorious step to perfection was the goal of the creator.
Yes that was it, I would help the b*y to be cured and continue on my own road.
The thing was time could be bearable if there was music.
Time and music went hand in hand, a perfect symbiosis in my experience.
Everything went well and even when the boy dropped into one of his fits and destroyed some stuff it was no bother righting things up again.
Playing music was a frustration till you got the hang of it. I thought of 'Garbage' (the band) destroying guitars and other stuff involving the desecration of pianos.
Destroying that musical sh!t was normal behavior!
Later that night I was spending time with the b&y and the destruction he'd dome rested on his mind and he was accustomed to receiving a punishment from his uncle for acting up.
Did he expect the same? One thing I loved about spending time in the military was being massaged after a tough day training and I thought that was the best treatment.
I told the b*y to just relax and that triggered him to jump to the fridge for some ginger beer that was doped with his medicine.
He threw me a bottle of it and my mind raced about what was in it.
I thought 'what the hell' as I twisted the top off and took a sip of that cold beverage.
It was good !
I imagined the k*d was addicted to it.
I explained to him how the massage would work and he removed his shirt and lay face down on the bed.
I got to work employing all the favorite moves I felt on me, paying attention to working out from the spine to the shoulders and the b*y was soon in a pleasant rapturous state,
I was working my hands down lower and asked him to unzip his pants to let me work right down his spine to the buttocks.
The way it had been for me.
His nice little buns would work as I did the massage.
He silently motioned me to stop getting up and going to the closet to fish around in before producing the cane.
I assumed it was the one his uncle used and then he re-positioned himself on the bed as he was lowering his pants this time to expose his little butt.
I guessed this was a habit I was now expected to take over from his uncle.
His body a little tensed up now at expecting the punishment.
I would not be acting up with anything harsh as I knew how bad that was by my own experience.
I would be kind about administering the 'justice' for the days misbehaviors.
I gave his rump a massage with my hand before giving the first stroke then massaged that too, building up gradually.
Soon I could see him getting pleasantly stimulated and working into the high he was used to at his uncles hands.
I was enjoying watching him taking it remembering the highs I'd been given myself.
I remembered getting around the golf course after I'd taken a good beating the night before and reaching down to get the ball out of the hole was a wicked thing I felt in my reddened butt cheeks.
So I decided the b*y could enjoy that on his next morning walk!
I gave it to him good and put a reddened smile to his cute little buttocks, the boy tightened in rapture his face taut and his mind locked by the hard thrashing that was being given to him.
His face drwn tight and tears ran down the red of his face,
Then I stopped consoling him a if the punishment was cruel on me too, and I was glad it was done.
I gave him another warming massage and along his back and shoulders then working lower to his rump which was noticeably warmer now !
This brought back some memories from the past, some still strange and hideous at the hands of deluded , sexually obsessed miscreants!
Then it was my own eyes that became damp. I remember one game using my kicks as defense and having to expose my target in doing so.
Then not being able to even get close he used the short whip to 'wear me down' as he put it !
It was sick, but I couldn't help going back for more !
It was my father whose beatings took me on that journey and I understood the ones on the same journey.
It was an emotional rediscovery for me.
Eventually he calmed down ready for sleep and I left him like that and snuck out the door.
Of course my scientist friend would be told about everything and I would be advised about his protocol.
The plan must be stuck to or improvements wouldn't be achieved.
I'd be given another job for getting out of order.