The Brothers’ Latham

By Dr. K

Chapter 1 - Part 1

Miss Sara Jameson, after just a few short weeks, anticipated the arrival of her "master’ just after sunrise. She quickly and awkwardly raised her bruised body onto all fours. She was cold a dirty, and quickly losing any sense of dignity. At least Larry could be counted on to bring her a dish of oatmeal and some juice.

Larry and Roger Latham were only a year apart in age, just recently graduated from the local community college. What they were up to deep in the woods behind their late uncle’s orchard in the rural back hills of Maine would have surprised absolutely everyone in this small town where they grew up.

The brothers were closer than any siblings anyone in those parts could remember. The ‘Lathams’ played hard and fought hard for each other in the school playgrounds that sat behind the tiny whitewashed Town Hall in this sleepy town of just a few thousand souls. Never wishing to stray far or see much of the world, they both attended the nearby Spencer Community College. Spencer Maine was a favorite stop on the foliage tour from Boston each fall.

The small size of the town…a village really…made it all the more curious to everyone, including the sheriff, that there be two high school teacher-disappearances in as many years. Everyone agreed that these unnerving events had to be connected, but what could be the relationship between these two women?

Miss Sara Jameson was a forty-five year-old spinster who had lived here in Spencer Maine all her life. Educated downstate at the University, she returned to Spencer, as she had always planned, to teach at the Lodge Memorial High School. She was a ‘largish’ woman, five foot eight and thirty pounds or so over-weight with a huge bosom. But she was still quite pretty, even with her severely cut auburn hair and tortoise-shell glasses that framed her pretty nose and hid her large brown eyes. She was well loved and respected as a fine and dedicated teacher.

Mrs. Laura Bailey, at fifty, had been a widow for ten years when she disappeared without a trace. A teacher at Lodge for only three years, she had transferred to Spencer to escape the memories of her husband’s sudden death and to make a fresh start. She was not quite as tall as Sara was, but she was trim and strong. The males in town considered her attractive and admired her long athletic legs. Her face was sweet and kind. But neither woman was much sought after by the older town widowers.

So other than their vocations, what could be the link, if any between their fates? How could two such educated, dedicated, serious and unremarkable women disappear without a trace? The first incident stirred the town and the small sheriff’s department for a year. The second brought in the State Police with dogs and five hundred volunteers who searched the fields and woods for two uninterrupted weeks.

Larry wasn’t timid about taking the crude self-styled whip to Sara’s ample backside during the first few weeks of her interment back at the forgotten trapper’s cabin and crumbling barn just two rugged miles behind the orchards. It was spring and still quite cold in the mornings, but he preferred Miss Jameson naked while he forced her to start clearing the hundred-yard diameter fenced pasture that had served the old trappers as a sheep’s holding pen. How close a call it had been when only the very early fall snow saved them from the tracking efficacy of the dogs!

‘Sex’ was considered as a potential motive, as it always had to be in investigations of abductions, if that’s what they were. But the police found it hard to figure why two such mature and, frankly plain women would arouse a kidnapper when there were so many younger and prettier women…yes, even girls, in Spencer.

Sex was however, in the Lathams twisted senses-of-the-word, oddly a serious component in the brother’s decision to act out a long developing fantasy…the fantasy of imprisoning their attractive though matronly old school teachers and forcing them to do unspeakable things.

Even as the Lathams had approached manhood, their burgeoning man size erections seemed to grow spastically and seemingly continually throughout the tedious school day. Inexplicably, they soon began to focus that budding lust…not toward their pretty classmates…but toward their womanly school m’arms… who moved before them seductively without the slightest hint that the simple act of bending over might make the cocks of so impressionable a group of precocious boys, ache.

Roger had had Miss Jameson while Larry had Mrs. Bailey in the room next door. After school, they would compare the virtues of these objects of their twisted lust, and often stalked one or other of these sweet, unsuspecting women on their way home.

Whereas Larry argued forcefully for their attention to be focused on his " leggy Mrs. Bailey ", Roger prevailed that his ‘busty’ Miss J. would be their victim...at least their first! The intricate planning that fired their lust imperceptibly turned to action over many years.

Sara never knew where she had been taken, and after just a week in crudely styled chains and ropes, she was allowed to work unfettered in the pasture while at least one brother was present. It was at least a little warmer in the early fall sun, and she was grateful to be allowed outside.

What could she have been thinking, abducted and beaten into submission by these two bright young men…men she had encouraged so strongly to attend college and to make something of themselves…one her very own model ex-student? What could she have thought as each morning, Larry bathed her naked body with his own hands, feeling every inch of her and even darting his soapy fingers in and out of her pussy and anus.

No one for suspected either Latham, though they were questioned like everyone else within a ten-mile radius that had ever known the two women. But miraculously, they stood up to it with their well-rehearsed alibis.

How Sara turned so compliant for these young men would never been be answered satisfactorily to anyone…including Sara. That Roger was strong willed and rather physical…with Larry quick to assist with the whip or the Ping-Pong paddle turned ‘spanker’… belied the enormous age difference between Masters and slave.

Why a larger, older woman had caught their fancy may have shown itself on the first day Roger swung his leg over the naked woman, still on all fours and still wet from her bath. Larry, in anticipation of a rebellion stood before her with a fistful of her hair in one fist and her nose in his other while his brother lowered himself onto her strong back.

She bucked instinctively feeling the full weight of his body as he raised his heels back and off the ground. Her huge hanging breasts rocked obscenely. But Larry held her face tightly and Roger needed only a sonorous slap to Sara’s ample behind with his open hand to quiet her down. ‘Surely she would be found soon by the authorities and this nightmare would be ended’, she told herself.

The brothers’ Latham shared an almost psychic capacity to communicate silently. It made their countenance scary. They knew when to press their agenda and when to ease off in the training and deep enslavement of this magnificent lady. And in Sara’s frantic mind, despair battled with fear of retribution promoting no reluctance to disobey. Should she have made a greater attempt to escape…to run nude through some freezing forest to where? Where was she?

Only twenty-four hours later, Larry placed Sara on all fours and bathed his brother’s old school teacher as usual. Quite business-like for his age, he knelt before her and without warning or remorse, slapped her sweet face as hard as he could, nearly knocking her over. She turned her sexy frightened face back to center as if proffered for another blow and clenched her eyes shut. Yet one stroke was enough to get her special attention for what was to come. He reached between her arms and took her long pale pink nipples in his fingers and pressed…not too hard…as if he expected a physical response. Possibly a sexual one.

Larry, her young overseer (Roger was clearly her ‘Master’) took a knotted rope and slipped it over her head. It was a cleverly crafted bridle with a thick knot slated for her mouth…the mouth that was still clenched shut in her despairing humiliation.

The young man grinned a sadistic grin that shook the poor woman to her very soul. He calmly and clinically took the pretty meat of her nose between her fingers until her mouth open for a gasp of air, and the gag fell in place. He kneaded her nose much longer than was needed to accomplish this savage act, she thought.

In seconds, the self-fashioned reins were tightened and draped across her dimpled shoulders. Larry’s prick was stiff and throbbing as the woman pitifully shook her head… letting the coarse ropes settle even further into place.

The brothers were no strangers to bareback horse riding here in rural Maine, mostly old draft horses when their uncle was alive. So it was a natural focus for them to translate their perverted lust for this sweet woman into using her as their mount. They knew nothing of the exotic ‘pony girls’ of art and literature. Wanting a farm animal…a human female farm animal, looking back, should not have been totally unexpected or out of character.

Reins in hand, Larry led Sara on her hands and knees out into the enclosed pasture she had cleared for her tormentors. He was gentle yet authoritative with her, relishing the slow undulating movements of her voluptuous naked body. Taking her to near the center of the ‘ring’, he laid the reins over her shoulders, letting the ropes fall into the creases left on her sumptuous shoulders from so many years of strain from her brassiere. He was breathless with lust…as one might well imagine.

Poor Sara was beside herself with the humiliation of it all. Her knees and palms were scraped but she was otherwise unharmed. Could this be her fate…to be used by these nasty young men, as a pony ride! Was anyone still looking for her?

As Roger approached the center of the pasture, Larry was quickly interrupted from his rapture and took a pair of stirrups that were hanging from his back pocket. The inch-wide leather straps had been inter-buckled.

He laid the strap over the small of Sara’s creamy back just as Roger arrived. The distraught Sara tossed her head around to face her Master. She knew too well by now who was ‘Master’ and who was "overseer’.

The beaten look of abject degradation on this sweet woman’s face as she pleaded with her eyes to her master…pleading not for her freedom but simply not to be ridden like an animal… may be the crowning moment in what her ex-students had or would achieve.

Roger summarily mounted his ‘pony bitch’ and tucked his tattered sneakers into up into the stirrups as Sara re-found her center of balance. Taking up the reins, he turned her head right and left by the buckles beside her knotted mouth bit. His young cock was hard and painfully confined in his jeans as he took the reins in one hand, gently kicked his heels into Sara’s loins, and slapped her smartly on the backside.

Haltingly, Miss Sara Jameson began to crawl forward across the rough ground. She would later remember that it was his lightness that struck her at that moment more than the humiliation of being ridden and having her too-big backside spanked like that.

The magnificence of Sara’s fully extended backside did not escape either brother’s attention. Her pure white flesh shone like marble in its most provocative pose. Her cheeks yawned wide with each forced step, exposing her furtive, virgin anus to Larry’s dizzying gaze.

Urged on by the pressure of his heels against her body, Sara obediently carried the young man on her back around the pasture in a figure eight, turned carefully and expertly by the tug on the reins. Larry followed close behind; his gazed fixed on Sara’s flanks.

Now lined up beside the stockade fence, Larry as if in a trance, released his erection as if it was on a spring and rammed it into the shocked woman’s sex. He came immediately. It was, amazingly, his first time. And he needed a minute to compose himself.

Yet the calm and cool Roger, still ‘in the saddle’, simply turned to his quivering, disheveled brother. "She’s done better than we figured, Lar, should we try this bitch out on the next thing?"

The brothers quickly agreed that it was time to take their mount to the next level of achievement. With Roger still mounted snugly, Larry, his withered penis back in his pants, once again took a fistful of Sara’s hair. She was crying openly now.

With his free hand, Larry deftly inserted his middle fingers into Sara’s nostrils, and with her thusly impaled, he helped her to raise herself on her back legs. Stooped over but on two legs, it was more of a challenge for her young master to stay aboard than it was for his ‘bitchy’ to bear his weight. He wiggled himself on her hips until he felt properly seated and offered a nod to his brother. Larry, positioned in front and beside her, proceeded to lead the sobbing Sara back out into the ring by the nose.

Was it some budding nose fetish that concentrated this young sadist's attention on this teacher’s sexy nose, or simply his memories of his uncles old bull that was kept up here…the one with the ring its nose. The efficacy of that ring leading that reluctant animal around may have made a serious impression.

However and whatever the reason, and in not so many words, Sara Jameson felt the despairing gratuitous nature of this wretched way of being led…surely she had proven to these hellions that she would obey the tug of her reins! Surely this was meant to humiliate rather than control.

Yet Larry persisted. Was he teaching the teacher that slavery was far more than obedience?

The obscene procession continued around the spacious pasture for a great deal more time that the brothers had planned. Miss Jameson’s ability to carry Roger's weight was a pleasant surprise, but after nearly an hour of not only walking but also being forced to trot, Sara was nearing her physical limits. She stumbled and almost fell, but for being held up by Larry’s grip on her nose. Knowing she was at the end of her endurance, the young man steadied her, withdrew his fingers from her tear-soaked face, and gratuitously, slapped her face hard.

Roger rode her back to the makeshift stables on his own, where he dismounted and sat himself on an old milking stool. Still holding her reins, he pulled her over his lap and gave his sweet old teacher a severe spanking…an ‘adult’ spanking of over a hundred of his hardest sonorous strokes. This wonderful woman, so demeaned…so disciplined…so degraded and humiliated, couldn’t help but further flame her master’s lust by swaying her magnificent backside under the deluge.

"Oh…Rog…I mean…oh…s…sir…please…please don’t" she pleaded through her gush of tears…totally undone.

End Part 1