Tag: paddle

Posted on

Introducing the Fantasy Art of Mark

 
Introducing
the Fantasy Art of Mark
Sore
Bottom Guys is thrilled to announce that the outstanding Spanking
fantasy artist Mark, has agreed to become an occasional contributor
to this blog.
Many
of you may know Mark for his postings to JockSpank,
but for others, discovering Mark’s work will be an exciting new gem
to add to their fantasy treasure box.
Mark’s
work can be enjoyed not only for the unquestioned cleverness and
skill of the artistry, but also for the incredible eroticism and
wicked humour, all directed where it should be at the very deserving
bottoms of handsome hunks, jocks, dudes and assorted bad boys, often
with an added dose of humiliation for good measure.
By
Way of introducing Mark to Sore Bottomed Gus, over the next few days
I will be reposting examples of Mark’s sexy images, selected by the
artist himself. These have been previously posted to JockSpank, but
are delights which are more than worth rediscovering!!
The
first of these selections are below, I know you will love them.
In
future, Mark will contribute to both sites, and we hope that from
time to time he will create images especially for Sore Bottomed Guys.

Click
on the Read More tab below to continue

TO BE CONTINUED
You
can see more of Mark’s work at the JockSpank Blog by CLICKING HERE
Posted on

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Four – pt 1)

The
Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt
(Part Four – pt 1)
As
his eyes began to become accustomed to the dark, Crispin finally
began to be able to see who else
was sharing the dungeon with him. He could make out a handsome
muscular man, about eight or ten years older than himself, with a
face which was vaguely familiar. At first he struggled to recall
where he knew the man from.
Then
he remembered “Gallant Sir Tybalt!” he gasped, “Is it really
you?”
The
older man, raised his head, as if surprised “It is a long time
since I have heard my name spoken” he replied, “but, yes, it is
I!” his voice, was strong and deep, with the cadence of noble
birth, melding incongruously with the slight hesitance of one who
has not shared a conversation in quite some time.
“I
recall, when you left to fight the dragon!” blurted Crispin, “I
was just a child then, I was with the crowd cheering you as you rode
from the city, and I recall how inspired I was by your bravery!” he
paused as he remembered, “When you did not return people feared
the dragon had …… cooked you with his fiery breath, and eaten
you!”
Tybalt
sighed “Ah!” he said “I would have suffered less if it had
eaten me!” he looked at Crispin with an expression of sorrowed
compassion “As I fear you will soon suffer also!”
“W…what
do you mean?” asked Crispin, the quiver in his vice betraying any
attempt at appearing stoic and brave!”
“These
man who pose as monks are in fact the Hellish creatures of an evil
Lord!” replied “This is no Holy order, they long ago lost their
faith and are now a dangerous cult, who worship a fearsome demon who
rules over the pit of torment!” he shuddered “They demonstrate
their devotion to the beast by inflicting the torments of Tartarus on
their captives ….. me ….. us!”
Crispin’s
mouth fell open in unconcealed shock, stunned by what he was hearing,
and increasingly nervous of what might lie in store for him!
“Why
have you not escaped?” he asked
“Believe
me, I have tried!” replied Tybalt, “But the monks keep me closely
guarded!” he paused and glanced around, as if checking they were
not overheard, before he continued in a hushed voice “You must keep
this secret!” he whispered “I am digging a tunnel, it is hidden
behind that boulder in the corner, but it is taking a long time, as
the stone is so hard. Perhaps now there are two of us, we will make
more progress!”
Before
Crispin could respond and express his eager willingness to join
Tybalt in digging his escape tunnel, the great wooden door to the
dungeon was flung open by a group of monks who entered, grabbing hold
of the two handsome knights and dragging them up the stairs.
Crispin
attempted to struggle free, but the monk’s were unexpectedly strong
and had superior numbers, so they held him firm. Meanwhile Tybalt,
perhaps weakened and disheartened by his years as a prisoner, seemed
resigned to his fate, and put up little resistance.
The
monks carried and dragged the protesting Crispin and the sad faces
but silent Tybalt into a large chamber with two drape covered altar
in the middle, on to which the two young men were forced to crawl,
before their wrists and ankles were tightly shackled with leather and
chains.
Tybalt
gave Crispin a doleful look, his voice quivered with compassion and
resignation “Be brave my friend!” he said “Your suffering will
be great, but it will end eventually”
Crispin
was not feeling at all brave, and his composure was not improved by
the older man’s ominous words.
Then
the situation got considerably worse, as one of the younger monks
stepped forward carrying a tray on which were two huge and erect
penises, both seemingly carved from what the wide eyed and fearful
Crispin instantly recognised as the dreaded fire root.
It
was only hours since his last encounter with this fearsome root, and
his anus was still painfully smarting, he prayed to whatever god was
listening that the huge objects before him would not be used for a
similar purpose. Sadly, it seemed that the only god listening was
the monstrous demon to whom the monks paid homage, and the miserable
expression in Tybalt’s handsome brown eyes, told Crispin that his
worst fears were about to be fulfilled.
Two
of the monks took hold of the carved phalluses, the younger of the
two flinching slightly as the scalding juices burnt his fingers. Then
each walked to the end of an altar, whilst chanting in an archaic
tongue.
Once
they stood behind each man they lifted the fire root penises up
before roughly inserting the first six inches of the intricately
carved objects into into the rectums of the two unhappy knights,
leaving a further four or so inches and the large scrotum shaped
appendage sticking out. 
 
With
the stoicism gained from long exposure to such outrages Tybalt merely
moaned slightly, however, the raw young Crispin for whom this was
agonisingly new yell, screamed and cried out obscenities as the
burning juices of the fire root soaked into his his most intimate and
tender areas.
Two
further monks, who’s presence, until that moment, had gone relatively
unnoticed by the handsome knights, and who were holding large wooden
paddle like objects, easily mistakable for ancient flatbread or pizza
shovels, also stepped forward.
The
two monks then brought down the wooden paddles, which they had been
holding high like flags, until they were inches from the base of the
fire root phalluses protruding from the knights behinds. Then they
swung them back and then forward hitting the base of the vegetable
scrotum with a loud whack, and forcing a further centime of the shaft
into the tight orifice.
Tybult
gasped and Crispin literally squealed with pain and shock as the huge
object was squeezed further inside him.
The
monks continued to whack their paddles against the replica organs as
if they were knocking a peg into a hole with a mallet.
The
force of the blows first split the phalluses, and then then began to
crush the large scrotum bulge at the end, sending sprays of scalding
fire root sap across the two knights. handsome and exposed buttocks.
Soon the carved stiffies had all but vanished, the main part having
been forced inside the unlucky victims, and the rest crushed in to
acid like liquid. Yet, still the Monk’s continued to paddle the
knights with their fire root soaked paddles, escalating the impact of
each blow with impact of the old dragon’s fiery breath.
Unable
to tolerate the pain Crispin began to shout, cursing and threatening
the monks with what he would do to them when he was free.
“Take
care my friend!” urged Tybalt in alarm “take care lest the friars
punish you more severely” he attempted to whisper to the younger
man “they will take you to the hives, and, believe me Dear friend,
you never want to be taken to the hives!!
However,
Crispin ignored his compatriot’s warning and continued to snarl,
curse and should threats at the monks. Too late he realised the
danger he was placing himself in.
The
oldest monk, who appeared to be the leader, approached the alters a
cruel smile on his ugly and twisted lips, he took hold of a clump of
Crispin’s hair in his fist, lifted the young knight’s head up and
looked into his face.
“Well,
well, you impudent young pup! He scoffed “You have not learned your
lesson yet!” he grinned in a way that sent a shiver down Crispin’s
back “You need serious chastisement my boy” the old monk growled
unkindly “and our little friends are well equipped for that!”
___________
TO
BE CONTINUED
I
hope to post more of part four on Tuesday

.
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge – Part 11

Bobby
O’Rourke was doing his daily training, as a conscientious youth he
trained for at least two hours every day, whatever the weather.
Coach had told him that if he continued training he could be entered
for the state championships, after which the possibilities were
endless for a dedicated and ambitious young athlete like Bobby.
Bobby was determined to succeed, to represent his state and maybe
even his country, and make his family proud in the process.
Bobby’s
family were already proud of him, for it was not only at athletics
that he excelled, he had studied hard in class and had earned a
scholarship to the college, where hw was proving himself to be a star
pupil in many ways. It was widely believed that Bobby had a bight
future ahead of him.
Bobby
has already run for over ten miles when he reached a road junction
leading to Main Street. It was there that he noticed old Mrs Rush
with her walking cane, nervously hovering on the edge of the street,
apparently awaiting an opportunity to cross. 
 Bobby knew the elderly
lady, who was an acquaintance of his grandmother’s, had poor eyesight
so he rushed to her side, and after taking care not to alarm her, he
reassuringly took hold of her arm and kindly assisted her crossing,
whilst at the same time signalling to oncoming traffic to be patient
whilst Mrs Rush made her unsteady crossing.
Once
they were safely on the other side of the road, Bobby waved away the
old lady’s words of gratitude, wished her good day and continued on
his way .
It
was safe to say that, in Bobby O’Rourke you could not wish to find a
nineteen year old athlete who was less like Jordan Draper, except,
of course, in one regard, Like Jordan, Bobby was a very handsome
young man. (He would not have earned his place in Sore Bottomed Guys
were he not)
Remembering
he had to study for an examination, Bobby turned off the street and
cut through an alleyway behind some apartment buildings just in time
to hear the distant sound of breaking glass.
As
he ran down the alleyway, Bobby noticed two young boys running
towards him. He look little notice of them, until, as they passed
him, one of the boys tossed the soccer ball he was carrying towards
him and called out as he ran past “Here buddy!” he said “Look
after this”.
Taken
by surprise, Bobby instinctively caught the ball as it flew towards.
Bemused, he stopped running, and still holding the ball, turned to
watch the boys disappearing into the distance.
It
was then that a loud voice with a distinct East European accent rang
out behind him “I haff warmed you brats one hundred times not to
play your silly football games here!”
 
Bobby
turned to see an elderly gentleman with a bright red face glowering
at him furiously. “I beg your pardon Sir ….?!” he said
“You
haff not my pardon you damn American vandal!” roared the old
man “You haff broke my window with your silly ball ……I haff
warned you what would happen” the elderly man was shaking with
fury as he spoke “You vill pay for this brat! And you vill not
like it!”
Click on the READ MORE tab below to continue:

“Excuse
me Sir!” replied Bobby trying as hard as he could to calm the old
man. “You are mistaken, I did not break any windows, I have only
just arrived…..!”
“Do
not lie to me you vandal!” the old man snarled “You think
I am a stupid old man, your guilt is before my eyes, you are holding
the silly ball in your hands! How dare you lie to me, you vil pay
twice …. ten fold, you vill pay for that!!”
Bobby
looked down and saw that he was still holding the ball which the
young boy had tossed to him “b…but …I..” he stammered
attempting to explain
“GO!!”
exploded the elderly and furious man “Get out of here, or you
will pay even more dearly!”
Trained
to obey his elders and anxious not to upset the elderly gentleman,
who appeared close to a seizure, even more than he already was, Bobby
did as he was told, he put down the ball and looked at the old man
“Goodbye Sir!” he said “I hope you get your window fix….!”
“GO!”
snarled Goran, for it was he “Get out of here are you vill pay
even more than you already vill, your little brat bottom vill pay!!”
Bobby
obeyed instantly, and ran off down the down the alley way, the old
man’s words still echoing in his head.
Bobby
was still thinking about the elderly gentleman’s threats to his
“little brat bottom” as he turned into the park, as a further
detour on his way home, until his attention was was caught by the a
plaintive meowing sound from above him. He looked up and saw a
kitten sitting on the branch of a tree he was passing. The poor
creature had obviously climbed up the tree, but was now stuck and
unable to get down.
Among
Bobby’s many admirable qualities, he was an animal lover, and it was
not in his nature to leave a helpless creature in distress.
“Don’t
worry little Buddy!!” he called “I will come and get you!”
Without
a further thought, Bobby climbed up onto the first branch which was a
few feet below the kitten and began clambering along that branch in
order to get to a place where he could reach the kitten. 
 
It
was then that he heard a loud ripping noise, he looked back over
shoulder and saw, to his immense annoyance, that his tight running
shorts had snagged on a small branch a,d the whole of the seat had
been ripped away, exposing his bare white bottom to the world.
“Fu
… Drat!” murmured Bobby stifling a cuss”how am I supposed to
get home like this?” he was the aware of an even more perplexing
problem, for some reason he could not move from the position he was
I. He could move his arms and kick his legs, but it was as if his
firm muscular young stomach was glued to the branch. This was all
very weird!
A
loud buzzing sound announced a most unwelcome arrival in the form of
a the biggest hornet Bobby had ever seem, which was heading straight
towards his exposed and upturned bottom like some form precision
guided missile. The hornet landed squarely in the centre of Bobby’s
vulnerable rump, its thin gripping legs on either side of the cleft
between the cheeks, jabbed it’s stinger into the tender and tightly
sloping flesh between the magnificent pearly white globes of his his
19 year old behind, and ejected a sting of truly agonizing strength,
sending a pure white hot bolt of pain deep into Bobby’s rear.
Bobby
let out an agonized howl of pain which echoed round the empty park
and again just managed to stifle back the worse swear word he knew.
Why on earth had a dumb insect done that? 
 
He
look back and to his mounting horror, saw a second hornet buzzing
towards their chosen target, seemingly with the same intention as its
earlier comrade. Bobby struggled frantically, but still he could not
move from the branch or escape.
“No!”
he yelled “Help me …. Please help!!”
+++
Bobby’s
cries for help, though ear piercing, were not loud enough to reach
the Draper home, but even if they had they would have been downed out
by the loud whacks and yelps of pain which were flooding out onto the
street. It the middle of the room, Me Draper was swinging his shiny
new wooden paddle, and gift he had received from his new friend and
neighbour Caleb Tartarus, the Ranger, and bringing it down with
repeated loud WHACKS! On Jordan’s now very red bottom, as his naked
son bent over in front of him.
Seated
comfortably on the sofa, was Ranger Tartarus, a grin of satisfaction
on his face. Having dragged the reluctant Jordan back from the
hospital, and informed his father of the boy’s exploits, he was sure
that Mr Draper’s new paddle would be seeing a lot of action over the
next few weeks and months.
Things
were working out just as the were supposed to.
Later
that day, Tartarus took a stroll round the Town, he was just
beginning to enjoy his visit there, and certainly did not want to
leave just yet. It had been a very long time since he he had been
called back from that deep are fiery place where had been dwelling,
to carry out the wishes of those who had summons him, and he had
almost forgotten how much fun it was.
As
he reached Capsaicin College, he made his way though a narrow gap by
the changing room, and the sight that met him served to re-enforce is
wish to stay in town.
Taylor
Hunter was another member of the swimming team, and although not as
accomplished a swimmer as Jordan, was not less physically appealing.
Another trait which the handsome Taylor share with Jordan was that
his attractive appearance did not reflect his personality, at that
was significantly less appealing. At that moment Taylor was in the
act of leaving a strikingly unfriendly, and some might say somewhat
hateful message for the team coach, Thor Amundsen.
As
it was, again, such a hot day, Taylor was wearing nothing except a
pair of skimpy yellow cotton shorts, which clung most enticingly to
to curves on the lad’s bubble cheeked bottom. Tartarus’s eyes
travelled down Taylor’s back, and rested on the seat of those thin
cotton short. His lips curled into a cruel grin. “Yes” he
murmured to himself, I think I will stay around for a while longer!” 
 .
The Shaman had conjured up dark forces to carry out his revenge, but as
others have found before him, once they are called, the powers
unleashed create ripples which have a wider impact than just on their
intended target.
The
Shaman’s Revenge is not going away.
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge – Part 4

The
Shaman’s Revenge (Part 4)

Click
here for previous episodes – Prologue
– Part 1 –
Part 2 – Part 3 

It
was a moot point as to whether it was further evidence of Jordan’s
bad luck, the Shaman’s curse, or merely his own misdeeds, which
caused the handsome young swimmer’s cute and sensitive, 18 year old
bottom to become the target of two teams of hostile, testosterone
driven, and very muscular late adolescent jocks, but either way, the
outcome was very uncomfortable and humiliating.
On their own, each boy would be charming and polite young gentlemen,
however, as history’s great generals, dictators and sports team
coaches were very aware, when you place healthy and hot blooded young
men such as these into a group and then set them loose, other more
primal instincts can come to the fore.
The
two teams of College age athletes were now a feral pack, acting in
unison and with one aim, and that was to inflict well deserved and
overdue punishment on Jordan Draper’s butt! 
 
When
the, normally timid, Toby Suter produced his little tube of extra hot
embrocation, they were unanimously, and enthusiastically, of the view
that this was the ideal substance to be liberally applied to
Jordan’s, now well paddled, bottom. Only Jordan took the view that
this was an exceedingly bad idea, but alas (or maybe hooray!) he was
overwhelmingly outvoted.
“Hold
the jerk down!” laughed Scott Colby, as he and two of his classmates
forced Jordan into what was unquestionably the most undignified and
revealing wrestling hold it was possible for a naked male to find
himself in. On his back with his legs, and, by extension, his butt
cheeks, well spread so that his most intimate body parts were on full
display!!
Toby
removed the cap from the tube and squeezed a large dollop of
embrocation into his palm, and then kneeled down in front of Jordan’s
inverted and uplifted bottom. As he did so, he thought of all the
times that this, previously dominant, jock had intimidated, bullied and
belittled him. Toby was not a naturally cruel person, but he had
suffered at the hands of Jordan Draper, so he felt only satisfaction
at getting his own back, by adding a further degree of heat to his
previous tormentors already well toasted posterior.
He
smeared equal quantities of the cream onto the palms of both hands
and then brought them down with two loud SMACKS onto Jordan’s
butt cheeks before proceeding to rub the embrocation into the skin,
ensuring that it was distributed to the whole area. Being straight
by nature, Toby would normally avoid looking at another male’s anus,
let alone touching it, but in this instance, such reluctance was
forgotten, with the result that every inch of the target area was
liberally coated, including the hypersensitive virgin ring at it’s
centre.
“That’s good!!” cheered Scott “really rub it in – make sure he feels
it!!”
With
the help of a second teamate, Scott forced Jordan into a position
similar to that which is often called the “diaper position” with his
bottom the highest part of his body, thus offering Toby a perfect
target ont which to apply the hot embrocation.
It
took a few seconds before the warming effect of the embrocation began
to take effect, but then the heat began to spread, getting hotter and
hotter as it did so, and within moments Jordan’s already battered and
stinging bottom began to burn with a ferocity not dissimilar to
sitting on a red hot brazier.
“YEEEEAAAAGHHHH!!”
screamed the singed Jock “It’s burning, its burning!!”
“It’s
supposed to you wimp!” laughed Scott “That’s how it works!!
“I
need to wash it off!” wailed Jordan “I need the showers!!!”
“Oh
no!” interrupted Martin Clifford, who had been watching silently
until then, “the showers are not for liars and thieves … you
might contaminate them!”
For
a moment the athletes fell silent, struck by the obvious
anger
of Martin’s unexpected intervention, but then, as they remembered
that Martin and Rubin had been Jordan’s intended victims, they began
nodding in agreement.
“No!
You can’t use the showers!” agreed Scott “the showers are for
gentlemen, not creeps like you!” … he laughed! “you can always
use the fountain in College garden… that will cool you off!”
“And
out there everyone else will get to see your lovely red butt Jordan!”
grinned Martin
The
men all laughed, and seconds later, Jordan was lifted off his feet
and carried towards the door!! “No guys, please!” he pleased “At
least give me my clothes!”
“You
don’t need clothes fella’!!! laughed a swimmer “Not with a great
bod like yours!”
Jordan
had always been proud of his body, but now the last thing he wanted
was for anyone to see him naked.
However,
within seconds a totally naked and protesting Jordan was pushed
through the main Lockeroom door, which backed onto the central
college hallway and the door slammed behind him. Desperate for some
clothes, he banged on it and attempted to reason with the men behind
it, but it soon became obvious they had no intention of letting him
back in, or letting him have his clothes.
Suddenly
a high pitched scream of surprise and delight echoed down the corridor
as two female tennis players walked in and spotted the naked swimmer.
Jordan
quickly clutched his hands over his exposed genitals, keenly aware
that he could not cover his red and very obviously just spanked
bottom. He had to find something to cover himself with, but first he
had an even greater priority, to ease the agonising burning in his
backside. In the locker room, Scott had suggested the fountain as a
joke, but now it seemed the only option. Still clutching his cock
and balls in his hands, Jordan ran down the corridor, passed the two
highly amused, and slightly aroused, girls out of the main door into
the quadrangle.
Despite
Jordan’s overblown sense of ego and the stomach turning humiliation
he felt at being exposed stark naked to the whole college with a
bright red spanked bottom, he now had one overriding goal which was
to ease the fiery sting in his behind, and wash off the burning
embrocation.
With
no balm or soothing cream to hand and with access to the locker room
shower barred to him, the tiny fountain in the campus gardens was the
only source of cool soothing water close at hand, he had to get to
it, and to do so as quickly as possible!
Students
of both genders (there were only two back then) gawped, laughed and
cheered as Jordan ran past them. They all ha no idea why Jordan was
naked, or why he had been so obviously spanked, but of course, the
full story would get to all of them very soon, and that knowledge
added hugely to Jordan’s misery,
To
his horror, when he reached the gardens, he found that the fountain
had been turned off whilst maintenance was carried out to the pipes,
however there was still water in the tiny lilly pond around it. That would
have to do. 

 He jumped into the pond, gripping the edges with his
hands and quickly lowered his punished and burning bottom into the
water.
Unfortunately
for Jordan, in his desperation to cool the sting in his tush he
lowered it much too quickly, without considering that there might be
something other than water and lilies in the pond.
For
reasons best known to the dark humour of fate, and maybe also to he
demons conjured up by and old East European warlock, an old rusty
child’s toy had at some point fallen into the pond and. Over time
had become wedged into the rocks at the bottom.

This
was no flimsy modern toy, crumbling from built in obsolescence, but
rather it was a solid 1950’s toy, well made, and made to last. It
was, by the standards of the time, a boy’s toy, a sturdy metal truck with a
disproportionately large towering crane on its back. Due to the
position in which the truck had become planted in the rocks, the hard
metal crane now pointed skywards towards the surface like some
submerged and rampant phallus, and for our heterosexual young
anti-hero, that symbolism was about to become a painful and
humiliating reality.
As
Jordan’s cherry pink bottom descended rapidly into the water it
landed straight onto the the rigid and erect crane which rammed
straight up through his tight rectum and deep inside him.
Jordan
leaped from the water as if shot from a cannon, let out a high
pitched howl and jumped up and down round the garden clutching his
spanked, scorched and now anally penetrated rump.
As
many virgins discover, the first time can be painful, and this was
certainly the case for Jordan. 
In
so many ways since his ill fated encounter with the old Shaman,
Jordan was really, to use his own colourful idiom, …. Fucked.
**********
Meanwhile,
on another part of the university complex Chase Colby was up to no
good! Using his one free hand, the handsome 20 year old Caretaker’s
assistant silently unfastened his belt and unzipped his tight blue
jeans, before reaching inside, grabbing hold of his rapidly
stiffening dick, and gripping it tightly.
His
other hand was fully occupied holding his dad’s prized new Betamax
video camera which he had borrowed for the purpose. From his
position kneeling in the small crawlspace about the College locker
rooms, he could see directly into the girls showers through a hole he
had made there a few weeks before. The video camera was aimed
directly at the hole, as the girls lacrosse team had just finished their
practice and would soon be nude and using those showers.
Of
course, Chase was supposed to be at the other end of the crawlspace,
above the boy’s locker room and getting rid of a hornet’s nest which
had been causing concerns to the faculty, and to his boss, Wil
Bryant, the Caretaker. 
“Fuck the wasps!” he thought, who
cared if a few posh rich boys got stung, he had more important and
lucrative things to do.
Chase
had made almost $200 selling copies of the last two videos he had
filmed through that same hole, but his customer were demanding
clearer and more “intimate” images, and Chase was more than
willing to oblige, he wanted to see that too.
Suddenly
Chase almost lost his balance when a pulse of excitement shuddered
though him as he recognised the person who had just stepped into
sight, and into camera range. Patsy Wagner was not only a smoking
hot chick but she had the biggest breasts, or “juggs” as Chace
charmingly referred to them, in the College. Chase shifted position
in an attempt to get a better shot, his customers wanted more than
just boobs. If Patsy moved a little to the right, he would see her
…. yes …. yes … any second now he would see her pu… DAMN!
That flat chested Darlene Morse had got in the way! Nobody wanted to
see her, she looked like a guy!!
Chase
leaned further forward anxious to get a better view of Patsy Wagner’s
lower body. Meanwhile his right hand was moving back and forth along
the now rigid shaft of his cock. He tried not to move it too
quickly, he didn’t want to cum too soon, like he so often did, that
would ruin everything, like it usually did. However, it was getting
more and more difficult to resist the increasingly insistent urges
gaining hold of his fit young body.
It
was at that crucial moment that Darlene Morse stepped out of the
shower and Patsy Wager was momentarily exposed in all her naked
glory. Alas, what would otherwise have been the money shot was lost
in a blur, as Chase immediately came in his hand and dropped the
camera in his excitement.
The
camera hit the floor of the crawlspace with a loud bang which
immediately announced Chase’s presence to the women below.
“There
is somebody there!” shouted one girl, as she and the others ran out
of the showers and retrieved their towels “Someone is watching us …
look, there’s a spy hole!!”
Never
brave in a crisis, Chase panicked. His impulse was to get himself,
and his camera, as far away from the spyhole as he could, as quickly
as he could, which was not easy in the cramped space he was in.
Bending double he backed across the crawlspace in the direction of
the area above the men’s locker rooms, a location where he had a
legitimate reason to be.
However,
as observant readers will recall, but Chase had forgotten, only a few
minutes earlier he had unfastened his belt and unzipped his jeans,
and, as can be the way with gravity, they picked the most inopportune
moment to fall down around his knees. Given the speed and awkward
nature of his attempted escape, this caused him to trip, fall over
backwards and slip feet first down a sloping surface towards the
eves. He had picked up quite a speed as his feet hit the panels at
the edge of the crawlspace, just beneath the eves of the roof.
As
an unwise economy measure during the construction of the building,
inferior timber had been used, and the wood gave way creating a hole,
through which the lower half of Chase’s body slipped before getting
stuck half way, with his top half still inside the crawlspace and the
lower half hanging outside.
As
his jeans were now around his knees, and as he had not bothered to
wear underpants, the upper part of Chase’s legs and his bare bottom
were not fully exposed on the outside of the building.
 
Although,
uncomfortable, embarrassing and inconvenient, this alone was not
Chase’s only misfortune. Due to another of those strange
coincidences, which had recently begun to plague Jordan Draper’s
life, the hole though which Chase Colby’s lower body was protruding,
just happend to be mere inches from the hornets nest he was supposed
to have removed. Furthermore, his bare and exposed white bottom was
in direct line of the entrance of the nest, through which angrily
buzzing hornets were already appearing.
Chase
Struggled to free himself, but this merely caused an already
precariously placed beam to collapse onto him, pinning him in place.
Chases
first thought was how embarrassing and uncomfortable his position
was, but when the first hornet landed on his bottom he realised that
his situation was considerably worse than he had first thought.
Chase
frantically reached out to try and find something solid which he
could grip in order to pull himself free, but the fragile and rotten
timber gave way when any pressure was placed on it. The frenzied
movement also caused his bottom to jerk around which antagonized the
already angry hornet. 
Within moments a hornet had stung one cheek,
whilst a second stung the top of his thigh, these were merely the
vanguard and were swiftly followed by a third and then a fourth
hornet, each jabbing their venom laden stingers into Chase’s exposed
butt flesh, sending a stream of molten lava like fury into the
unlucky young hunk.
Chase
yelled out in pain, wriggling helplessly as a cloud of hostile
insects descended on his defenceless and very exposed bottom.
“CHASE
COLBY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!”
Wil Bryant’s voice boomed out from behind him “I cannot trust you
to do even a simple job! … look what you’ve done! now you have
wrecked the building!”
Will
had come to investigate reports of a peeper in the girls locker room,
and had not been prepared for the sight of his young assistant’s legs
and bare bottom sticking out of a hole in the roof of the building
surrounded by stinging insects. He hurried to the side of the
building and climbed the ladder Chase had used in order to access the
crawlspace above the lockers.
Being
a strong man, it did not take long for Wil to pull Chase free, and on
spotting the video camera, it took him even less time to put two and
two together and realise that Chase was the peeper whom the women’s
lacrosse team had reported.
Will
picked up the camera and turned to Chase, who was wailing and
frantically rubbing his hornet stung backside “We have some matters
to discuss young man!” he said
the
two men both climbed out of the tight roof space, and upon reaching
the ground, Will took hold of Chase by the ear and then led the
miserable young apprentice to the stock room behind the Caretaker
office, at which point Will opened a draw and brought out a small
wooden paddle baring the, now particularly fitting, slogan “Dad’s
Little Stinger”
“I
think you remember this from the time we had the little issue with
the missing petty cash!” he growled “This is even more serious,
you could get the college into serious trouble by filming the young
ladies!”
“B..but
Boss, you can’t paddle me I’ve been sung on the butt!” groaned
Chase “It sure hurts like it’s on fire!”
“Either
you take a paddling from me, or your Dad and the sheriff will find
out what you were doing with that, there, video filming camera!”
replied Will, knowing full well that, even at 20, Chase was terrified
of his construction worker father, and also that, with his record,
his handsome young apprentice could not afford another run in with
the law. He had Chase at his mercy and intended to take full advantage of
that fact.
“Aw!
Boss please don’t!” protested Chase, his voice taking on the
plaintive whine of a much younger lad “Dad will kill me!”
“Well then take of them jeans and bend over!” 
 
Chase’s
poorly educated mind strained to think of some clever words which
might defend his sore bottom from Wil’s paddle, but none came to him.
Reluctantly he removed his sneakers and blue jeans, and then, wearing
nothing but his sock, Chase padded across the room and bent over in
front of Wil as instructed.
“My!”
murdered Wil “Those hornet stings look sore! nasty critters those
South American hornets, real poisonous varmits ….. You’ll need to
see Dr Schults later, he’ll probably put you on a course of shots to
avoid infection!” 
He grinned to himself, he knew the good doctor’s
ways of dealing with handsome, wayward youths, and like Coach
Amundsen, Will fully approved of those methods! “Yup, you will need
a course of shots in that butt o’ yours…. maybe for a month, just
to be sure … I will speak to the doc after this!”
With
that, he raised the paddle and brought it down with a loud WHACK! on
Chase’s upraised and hornet stung bottom. Poor Chase yelled in pain
as the hard wood collided with the fresh stings which peppered his
butt cheeks, his video filming plans were going to cost him dearly.
As
the paddle whacks echoed around the room, Chase had other thing on
his mind rather than the night before, when he had drunk beer and
played loud punk music into the early hours, ignoring his old East
European neighbour hammering on the floor of the apartment above him.
It
was Chase’s bad luck and to some degree Chase’s own fault that, now
he had evoked his ancient powers, the increasingly grouchy old Shaman
had decided to spread his revenge around.
TO
BE CONTINUED

 

Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge – Part 3

 The
Shaman’s Revenge Part Three

Click
here for previous episodes – Prologue
– Part 1 –
Part 2
Part
3
Jordan
Draper was pissed. Things were not working out as he had expected.
This was supposed to be a a day he would really enjoy, it was the day
he was going to get his revenge on on that queer Martin Clifford and
his little faggot boyfriend. Jordan had been looking forward to his
vengeance and being able to watch in triumph as their crummy little
lives were destroyed. But how could he enjoy it when his butt was
stinging like it had just been attacked by those God Damn hornets
again.
He
couldn’t believe that jerk of a doctor could spank so hard, it was an
hour since that creep had spanked him, and he backside was still
stinging and throbbing as bad as it did while he was still over the
fucker’s knee.
An
that asshole had jabbed him in the butt with those god-damn needles.
Man they hurt!! and apparently he was supposed to let the creepy Doc
jab him again later in the week …. twice! He had to find a way to
get out of that, but without getting himself into more shit with the
fucking coach.
The
very thought of the coach sent a shudder down his spine. That was
one bastard he did not want to upset!!
To
make matters worse, those damn three day old hornet stings were also
starting to hurt again, the Doc must have set them off again with his
damn spanking …. fuck him!! he would like to shoot that quack in
the balls, slowly, one at a time, if only he dared!
The
spanking from the doctor was not only still painful, it was also
embarrassing, given how much his butt still hurt, Jordan guessed it
was still very red. He was about to have to change for swimming
practice and he did not want the team to see he had been spanked. He
just hoped his speedos would cover it, and that he could slip away
unnoticed without a shower after swimming.
He
arrived at the locker room and found that the team were sharing the
locker room with some members of the men’s lacrosse team who had also
just finished their game. Jordan noticed that Martin Clifford and
his “little f#ggot boyfriend” were both there, he wondered how
long it would be before those two scumbags discovered the surprise he
has in store for them.
Jordan
began to undress, keeping his back turned towards the locker, so that
nobody would see his red bottom. It was then the next of the day’s
series of disasters struck. As soon as he took the speedos out of his
sports bag he could see they were not his, he had accidentally
grabbed his 13 year old brother’s swimming trunks from the washing
line instead of his own.
Jordan’s
brother was not only five years younger than him, we was a much
smaller build and, therefore, wore
considerably
smaller pants! Jordan was not even sure he could even fit into his
brother’s trunks, they would certainly not cover his spanked, red,
butt.
Jordan,
looked around frantically searching for a way out of this nightmare
predicament, maybe he could exchange speedos with another swimmer
when he wasn’t looking.
“STOP
DAWDLING DRAPER!”
the coach’s voice boomed across the locker room “get into those
swimming trunks Now …. I am watching you boy!”
Jordan
felt a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach, there was no
escape, he was going to have to put on his little brother’s speedos,
and just hope they stretched enough to coverer is bright red ass. 
 
Nemesis
can be a bi#ch, and it was bad luck all round for our handsome young
anti-hero. As one might expect, there was no way that swimming trunks
designed to fit a, small framed 13, year old were going to cover the
well rounded, just spanked bottom, of an 18 year old athlete. After
a major struggle pulling the damn things up his legs, the tiny
garment not only gripped his dick and balls in a crushingly tight
squeeze, but most of the seat disappeared right up his butt crack
leaving the major part of his glowing red butt cheeks fully exposed.
Beads
of cold sweat trickled down his forehead as the horror of the
situation rushed through his mind, the whole team would see that he
had been spanked, like some scummy little kid.
He
had to cover himself somehow, where was his towel? Oh S##t!! He had
forgotten his fucking towel!
“Hey
Buddy!” whispered a voice behind him “Your ass is red man!! Why
is your ass so red?!”
Jordan
spun round to see Kirk Woods, someone he had always thought to be a
friend staring at him in amazement “Keep your fucking mouth
shu….!” Jordan began to snarl before, too late, he realised his
mistake. By turning round to look at Kirk, he had turned his back
view to the to the locker room, which, as observant readers will
recall, had twenty or so half naked swimmers and lacrosse players in
it.
The
reaction was instant and explosive, cheers, whistles and catcalls
echoed around the room, as the evidence of Jordan’s rosy pink
humiliation was revealed to the the two teams of young men.
“You’ve
been spanked dude! ….. hey guys look … he’s had a whuppin’!”
shouted a lacrosse team player as the others whooped, sneered and
began crowding round the unhappy young swimmer.
Jordan’s
face began to turn almost as pink as his bottom, this had to be the
ultimate nightmare for someone with the inflated ego of Jordan Draper
… oops … then it got worse ..!!
The
strain on his brothers tiny speedos had proved more than they could
take, and the seat slowly began splitting, thread by thread, right
down the centre of the seat, revealing the full expanse of Jordan’s
bright pink butt crack.
To
say that Jordan was mortified, did not come close to describing to
feelings of embarrassment and humiliation rushing through the
handsome young athlete’s brain. The whole college would know that
he, the top jock on campus, had been spanked,… spanked like a
naughty little boy, and now the last vestige of dignity to cover his
shame was literally falling apart apart.
At
that moment Coach Amundsen stepped “Gentlemen! Behave yourselves!”
he shouted, “Or you will all end up with bottoms as red as young
Draper’s!”
Confronted
with the Coach’s unquestioned authority, and the threat in his words,
the two teams both fell into immediate obedient silence. “Now
gather round here” the coach continued “Deputy Principal Graves
has something important to say to you all!”
The
young men turned to face the door, through which Deputy Principle
Graves had just entered the room with a very grim expression on his
face. He was accompanied by the College’s chief security officer
Norman Timmins.
“Good
morning teams!” he said, his tone dour and serious “Please listen
carefully, I regret that I have a very serious matter to talk to you
about”
The
two teams approached the elderly gentleman as requested, as Jordan
joined them, attempting to keep his exposed bottom towards the
lockers. He alone among the assembled Sportsmen, knew exactly what
the “serious issue” was. However, this was not the way it was
supposed to happen, the two faggots were about to be destroyed, but
he could not enjoy it in the way he had planned to because he, too
had been so completely humiliated.
“Two
very valuable trophies have gone missing from the display cabinet in
the Principal’s Office!” continued Deputy Principle Graves, his
voice matching his name with its sombre gravitas. “As there is
currently no evidence of an intruder, we have regretfully reached the
conclusion that the items may have been …… removed … by a
member, or members, of the college fraternity.!”
He
paused and looked round the room before adding “For that reason,
before we contact the police, we need to conduct a search of all
lockers, starting here in the male locker room!” He then added
grimly “Now please open your lockers!”
A
shocked mumble travelled around the room, crime was rare at such a
prestigious institution and the boys were genuinely outraged that
prized sports trophies could have been stolen.
The
Deputy Principle then followed Officer Timmins as he began
methodically searching each locker in turn. Within moments the first
of the two stolen trophies, a silver cup won by the lacrosse team the
previous year was found in young Rubin Dorbney’s locker.
Rubin
gasped in horror “I didn’t … I didn’t!” he cried “please sir
.. I didn’t!”
“Silence
boy!” snapped Principal Graves, while Martin Clifford placed
himself between his trembling lover and his now very angry looking
team mates.
The
second missing trophy, a silver statue of a swimmer standing on a
tiny marble plinth was soon discovered in Martin Clifford’s locker,
as Jordan, of course, knew it would be, having carefully placed it
there the evening before.
Despite
his earlier embarrassment, Jordan still felt a malicious grin flitter
across his face. His day might have been ruined, his ass might be on
fire, but at least it was about to get even worse for that queer
little f#ggot!
It
did not take Martin more than a moment to figure out what had
happened, and who was behind it, he searched for Jordan Draper in the
crowd of now very hostile boys and his suspicions were confirmed as
soon as he saw Jordan’s malevolent expression.
Principal
Graves, his face thunderous with fury. stepped forward to face Martin
and Rubin, the latter being now on the verge of tears. “I can not
believe that two boys like you would ….”
“One
moment Mr Graves, sir!” Coach Amundsen interrupted “I believe we
may be about perform a miscarriage of justice!” he looked at Martin
Clifford and continued “I believe I have evidence which exonerates
these two fine young men!”
The
coach then explained what he had seen on the Sunday evening. “I saw
someone placing objects, which I now believe were the sports trophies
into Clifford and Daubeny’s lockers!” he paused “the clear
intention was to incriminate two innocent young men!”
“That
is incredible!” gasped Principal Graves “Did you recognise this
person?!”
The
Coach turned and looked at Jordan before replying “I certainly
did!” he said “It was Jordan Draper!”
“Fuck
off!” yelled Jordan backing away from the coach “It was those
fagg … those two crooks not me!!” he turned seeking some form of
escape but found his exit blocked by three burly lacrosse players.
“This
puts a very different perspective on matters!” said Mr Graves,
remembering that Jordan’s parents were major donors to College funds
“We will need to give serious consideration to what action to
take!” he stopped and looked at the now clearly panic stricken
Jordan Draper, a handsome boy, and a gifted athlete, but also an
arrogant bully, for whom he felt a natural dislike, and suddenly a
small voice in his head made the usually cautious man react on
impulse. “However, I feel that some punishment is called for!”
he said
“Oh
yes, indeed Sir!” replied the Coach as he strode towards Jordan
“There will be punishment … it will be immediate, and it will be
in public!”
He
grabbed hold of Jordan’s ear and pulled the protesting youth to an
open area at the centre of the vast locker room. He then spun Jordan
round and scooped hold of the back of his speedos in his fist,
pulling them unto a painful “wedgie” and forcing him to stand on
tip-toe.
“Please
Coach! Don’t!” stuttered Jordan “you got it all wrong, I can
explain!”
“Wrong?”
stormed Coach, “The only thing wrong is that little bottom of
yours, it isn’t near red enough yet!!! He looked at the boys and
pointed to Jordan’s behind “What do you guys think?” he said “Is
that behind red enough?!”
The
reply from the assembled group was as loud as it was predictable as
every swimmer and lacrosse player in the room enthusiastically agreed
with Coach Amumdsen that Jordan’s needed to be a lot redder than it
was.
Jordan’s
impulse was to run, but the the Coach’s vice like grip on the tiny
speedos made escape impossible.
Coach
Amundson smiled as if reading Jordan’s mind and then called out to
Martin “Clifford, I think I recall seeing a Table Tennis bat in
your locker, could I borrow that please!”
Martin
didn’t need asking twice and within moments he had darted to his
locker retrieved the ping pong paddle and handed it to the Coach.
To
be given a wedgie when wearing undersized speedos was uncomfortable
and embarrassing enough but what happened next took Jordan’s
humiliation to a whole new level.
Coach
Amundsen had significant upper body strength, only not did he play
tennis and racquet ball most days, but his vacations were spent
mountain climbing in either the Rocky Mountains or back in his
Scandinavian homeland where his arms often had to lift his full
bodyweight plus a heavy backpack.
Even
so, lifting a 157 lbs, 18 year old, swimmer with one arm, although
not an insurmountable challenge, would usually require considerable
effort. However, that day, it was as if an external force boosted
his strength, enabling him to lift Jordan with relative ease.
Like
a crane lifting a ship’s cargo from a jetty, the coach’s muscular arm
rose, and Jordan’s wedgie exposed bottom rose with it until his whole
body was dangling in the air with his feet off the ground and and
only the tips of his fingers were touching the floor.
Then
as if beating a dinner gong, the coach began spanking Jordan’s
uplifted bottom with the pig pong bat as the swimmers and lacrosse
players cheered and applauded every whack!
Deputy
Principal Graves looked on in stunned bewilderment, unlike the
younger men who were merely enjoying the entertainment, he was amazed
at the Coach’s display of strength which seemed to his academic mind
almost herculean.
Martin
watched with a mixture of admiration and delight, tempered by some
concern that the growing bulge in his pants might be a little too
obvious.
Jordan
could not believe what was happening, having limited knowledge of
anatomy and having persistently scored an ‘F’ in Physics, if was not
the fact that the Coach was able to lift him so easily which amazed
him, it was that such an embarrassing, painful and downright
humiliating thing was happening to him, Jordan Draper, the top Jock
and coolest dude on campus.
Hanging
in the air in an inverted ‘V’ shape, with his perfectly rounded, and
now very red and very bare bottom as its apex whilst being spanked
with a ping pong paddle, in front of two teams of cheering college
jocks, was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened in his
18 years of life (hint:
ahem … So far).
On
top of all this, his now well punished bottom was burning like a
furnace, and that would not be letting up any time soon. 
 
WHACK!,
the ping pond bat landed on one cheek, then WHACK! it hit the other,
each time briefly leaving an angry red circle which then spread to
become part of the overall cherry redness of the unlucky swimmer’s
butt cheeks.
In
those day before YouTube and Jackass, the watching athletes had never
witnessed such a bizarre and entertaining spectacle before, and it
was one which they would talk about, amongst themselves and everyone
else, for years to come.
What
made the scene all the more enjoyable for the assembled jocks was the
fact that the guy getting his bare butt paddled, while, at the same
time, receiving an atomic wedgie was, Jordan Draper.
Up
until then, Jordan had maintained his position at the top of the pack
through his bullying tactics and the force of his ego, as well as his
good looks sporting prowess. However, secretly none of them liked
him and all resented him. It was, therefore, additionally thrilling
to see him get his comeuppance.
As
is the way with such men, having scented weakness in the previous
pack leader, they were now hungry for more.
Thirty
paddle whacks, fifteen per cheek, later, the overly stretched fabric
of Jordan’s brother’s speedos gave way, and Jordan, now naked as a
baby fell to the floor with a thud, leaving the torn material still
clenched in the coach’s fist.
Casting
the torn trunks aside the Coach then grabbed Jordan by the arm and
pulled him to his feet, before leading him to some cupboards at the
centre of the locker room where sports equipment was kept. “Climb
on top of those” he ordered “On your hands and knees!”
Reluctantly
Jordan obeyed, anxious to avoid further spanking and was soon on top
of the cupboards, in what might be unkindly called ‘the doggie
position’ on his hands and knees, with his bare cherry pink bottom in
the air. The mortified Jock knew that in this position both his
balls and puckering pink anus were fully displayed, but being totally
nude, he had nothing to cover himself with.
“My
arm is getting a bit tired!” lied the coach “Would one of you
guys like to take over for a moment?”
Of
course there were twenty or more volunteers, but Scott Rather, the
captain of the lacrosse team and Jordan’s main rival for top sports
jock at college was the first to push his way to the front, more than
eager to demonstrate his mastery of his long time rival by beating
his cute butt.
“Be
my guest!” smiled the Coach, handing the bat to the beaming
lacrosse player. “Not too hard mind!”
Of
course that was one order which Scott Colby did not obey, swinging
the bat behind his head he brought it down with a loud whack across
the centre of of Jordans, raised backside, deliberately aiming at the
tiny pink rosebud nestling between the cheeks. This whack was
followed by a second, thgird and fourth, all equally hard, causing Jordan to let out a howl
of pain!
One of the swimmers remembered that he had a polaroid camera  in his bag, and he was soon making full use of it.
It
was Deputy Professor Graves who broke free from the spell first, his
orderly administrator’s mind overcoming the fascinated trance he had
been in. Although, it was quite in order for the Coach to discipline
a student, the fact that other students were participating in the
punishment, smacked a little too much of hazing which could damage
the college’s reputation if the news got out!
“I
… I think that is enough now!!” he stuttered “Young Draper has
been punished enough … for now. Any further disciplinary action
will down to the college, and, of course, Jordan’s parents!”
“Please
don’t tell my Dad!” gasped Jordan as Scott Colby sulkily put down
the bat, disappointed he had only managed four measly swats at Jordan’s butt.
“Of
course, your parents will be informed boy! This is a serious
matter!” Snapped Mr Graves before turning to the Coach! “Coach
Amundsen, thank you for resolving this matter so promptly, I know I
can leave you in charge now!”
“Of
course!” replied the Coach as the Deputy principal picked up the
two valuable trophies and left the room, followed by Officer Timmins.
Meanwhile
Jordan jumped down from his unwelcome plinth, anxious to get to his
locker and his clothes, however, again his path was barred by a
barricade of sneering sports jocks, who showed no inclination to move
out of his way.
“You
can get dressed shortly Jordan” said the Coach “Meanwhile, I
think it best that your teammates discuss this matter with you on a
peer to peer basis, whilst we adults get back to running the
college!”
“No
Coach, please don’t leave me with them!” spluttered Jordan “Please
don’t!”
“Don’t
be silly Jordan!” snapped the coach, “You put your friends in a
very difficult position, and and the obviously need to …… talk
this over with you!!”
Pure
terror gripped Jordan as he looked round at the grinning athletes, he
knew that “talking!” was the last thing they had in mind.
The
coach placed the ping pong bat on to the top of the cupboard then
looking at Martin he said “You will want to put this back in your
locker …. at some point!”
Ignoring
the horrified young swimmer’s pleas, the coach then walked out of the
room. As soon as his back was turned to the boys, a slow smile crept
across his face!
Within
seconds of the Coach leaving the room, the boys had wrestled Jordan
to the floor, holding him down, while they took turns in whacking his
butt with the paddle the Coach had left for them!
“No!!
… OWW! … Please Guys!! … OW …. Stoppp!”
yelled Jordan, “It’s
a mistake! …. OUCH!! it wasn’t me … it was OW those to fa
….OOOOWW!!”
“We
ain’t gonna’ stop until your butt’s as red as the lockers!! laughed
Scott Rather.
Then
Toby Suter, one of Jordan’s long term victims had an idea “Hey
fellas’” he laughed “This will really make him feel it!” 
 
He
held up a tube of the extra strength heat rub embrocation, which he
had been using for a sprained shoulder!
The
others cheered and broke into raucous laughter.
Jordan
looked back over his shoulder and saw what Toby was holding and
recognised it instantly. Having once accidentally used a similar
cream a hot shower, he knew how it could burn.
“NO!!
Please don’t!! he wailed “NOT
THAT!!!
To
be continued …
Posted on

The Sting of the Jungle – Boy’s Return

 The
Sting of the Jungle -Boy’s Return

The
airplane was into it’s thirteenth hour of the flight across the
Atlantic, and Boy was now unbearably bored. True to form, he had also
made himself extraordinarily unpopular with the flight crew and his
fellow passengers with is arrogant and rude bad behaviour and
constant demands.
It
had reached the point where most of the other passengers had moved to
seats as far away from this handsome, practically naked but
chronically unpleasant young man.
Eventually,
when Boy could not bare the boredom any longer he called out to the
flight attendant “How much longer is this Goddam flight?!” he
demanded.
The
flight attendant looked at Boy with hardly disguised dislike “We
land in Kinshasa in an hour … S ..” she gritted her teeth “Sir!”
“No
you stupid moron!” snapped Boy “What time to we land at the
Jungle airport?”
“This
flight does not land at The Jungle airport” she replied “We fly
over the jungle, direct to Kinshasa”
“WHAT!!”
shouted Boy “I need to get off at the Jungle airport!!”
“We
can not land at the jungle” replied the attendant “this plane is
too large for the jungle runway!” she frowned with exasperation,
this was the most infuriating passenger she had ever encountered “It
is quite clear on your ticket that this is a non-stop flight, you
will need to get a connecting flight back to the jungle!”
Of
course, Boy had spent all the money he had managed with him when he
escaped from the city, and could not afford a second flight. With
characteristic truculance he decided to try and bully the flight crew
into landing at the jungle stop.”I demand to see the pilot!” he
shouted “I need to get off this plane in the jungle!!”
“You
can’t see the pilot!” sighed the attendant “He’s busy … you
know … flying the plane!”
“Take
me to him!” snapped boy, leaping from his seat and turning towards
the cockpit.
Realising
that Boy seemed serious, the flight attendant called over two male
flight attendants to assist her “This …….. passenger failed to
read his ticket correctly, and is demanding we drop him off in the
jungle!” she said.
The
two male attendants had been observing Boy’s rude and obnoxious
behaviour, ever since he started acting up after about an hour into
the flight, and new he was going to be difficult. However, at first
they began patiently trying to reason with him.
Sitting
in am aisle seat in the next row to Boy Herman Kettering had watched
the scene unfolding. As a gay man, despite Boy’s outrageous
behaviour, he could not fail to be struck by how hot physically the
young blonde hunk was. This was especially obvious given Boy’s
limited attire of only a jockstrap and a pair or white socks.
Herman
was also a keen collector of male spanking videos and a fan of the
JockSpank blog, so when Boy stood up his eye was immediately drawn to
the lad’s perfectly formed bare white bottom, framed with the straps
of his jockstrap, and he began to imagine all the different forms of
discipline he would just love to inflict of that tempting object.
It
was the ongoing curse of Boy’s life, that so many people
instinctively wanted to spank him.
Meanwhile
the two flight attendants were also both becoming drawn to the
prospect of an act of violence against Boy. Even for two men so well
used to dealing with difficult customers it was not long before they
were both totally exasperated with this semi-naked but highly self
opinionated youth.
Finally,
their exasperation turned to anger, when Boy actually attempted to
storm the cockpit demanding to speak to the pilot. The men grabbed
hold of him and began to drag him towards the back of the plane. It
was only then, too late that Boy began to understand that just maybe
he had again gone too far.
“Okay
fella’” snarled one of the men “You want to land in the jungle?
Well, we can arrange that!!” he was so angry that, whilst his
colleague held onto Boy, he literally ripped one of the attendant
seats from the wall, leaving the back portion of the seat still
screwed to the wall. The men then tied Boy to the seat in a sitting
position, with his, jockstrap framed, bare bottom sticking out of the
gap at the back where it had been pulled from the wall.
As
Boy struggled against the ropes attaching his wrists and thighs to
the seat, the men began attachomh a parachute to the chair arms.
“What the fuck ate you doing?!!!” yelled Boy.
The
men did not answer, but the look of thunderous fury on their faces
told him, that, whatever it was they were doing, he was not going to
like it!!
One
of the men proceeded to turn a handle which opened a hatch door in
the side of the aircraft and all three of them were hit by a powerful
gust of air.
“You
can’t be serious!!” stammered Boy, as he suddenly realised what was
being planned, but the men were deadly serious. If Boy wanted to land
in the jungle, they were only too happy to accommodate that wish,
however, the plane would not be landing there with him.
With
a powerful kick, delivered to the centre of Boy’s bottom, they sent
him, attached firmly to the chair frame, flying out of the side of
the plane into the open sky outside. 
Ckick on the “Read More” tab below to continue:

It
was lucky that the men had opened a hatch at the back of the plane,
so he avoided the danger of being hit by the wing or sucked into the
jet engine, but that was about the limit of Boy’s good luck, as to
the rest, his luck was very much erring to the side of bad!!.
The
kick had been hard enough to send him beyond the tail fin of the
aircraft as it zoomed past, but it had also been hard enough to be
very painful, especially as Boy’s bottom was still tender from the
tennis ball bombardment in had undergone less than 24 hours before.
As regular readers might have guessed, however, it would, of course,
be a lot more tender before the day was out.
The
aircraft was swiftly vanishing into the distant horizon, leaving boy
falling through the empty sky, firmly attached to the frame of the
seat to which the men had tied him.
Boy
had antagonised many people in his time, but this time it had reached
a point where the two flight attendants had been provoked to an act
which put boy at risk of death or serious injury, and that, so far,
was a first.
It
was clear to Boy that those risks were significant, it was also
obvious to him that he could not do a thing about it. The parachute
the men had used was designed to take the weight of an average adult,
however, the additional weight of the chair frame to which Boy was
tied was beyond it’s capacity. 
As a result, Boy was hurtling towards
the ground at an alarming speed.
The
descent picked up speed as Boy approached the jungle canopy, before
crashing through it, into the dark jungle below, tree branches
whipping against the terrified youth’s legs and exposed buttocks as
he fell through that. “OWW! …. OUCH!! …. OWW!” he yelled.
Suddenly,
about thirty feet from hitting the jungle floor, at what would have
been bone shattering speed, Boy’s fall was brought to a sudden
jarring halt, as the parachute became entangled in branches,
arresting his descent and leaving him dangling among the trees.
It
took Boy a few seconds to realise what had happened, and that he was
not a dead or, at least, shattered mess lying on the jungle floor, as
the flimsy parachute had saved him after all.
However,
before Boy was able to celebrate his good luck, an angry buzzing
sound behind him brought with it the horrifying realisation that, as
was usually the pattern of his life, his luck had not going to be as
good as it might otherwise have been.
Looking
back over his shoulder, with a deep sense of foreboding, he saw that
he was hanging next to an African wasps nest, nestling beneath the
tree branch from which his was hanging. To make matters infinitely
worse, he was positioned in such a way that his exposed bare bottom
was dangling mere centimetres from the entrance to the nest, from
which angry buzzing wasps were emerging in battle ready numbers and a
matching warlike attitude.
Having
been attacked by African wasps in the past, Boy knew how painful
their stings could be. A feeling of blind panic gripped him and he
frantically began attempting to free himself from the ropes which
held him trapped on the suspended chair frame.
Of
course, as a cooler mind might have warned him, struggling
frantically was the very worst thing he could have done, as it drew
the angry, but short sighted, insects’ attention to his exposed
bottom, which was exactly what had annoyed the in the first place.
They began buzzing around it making increasingly ferocious and
alarming noises.
First
one angry wasp, and then another landed on Boy’s tender pink butt
cheeks and jabbed their sharp stingers into his flesh, before
injecting a tiny but agonizing stream of fiery venom in to the
handsome but chronically unlucky youth.
Unlike
bees, which lose their stingers when they sting, and can, therefore,
only sting once, wasps stingers remain intact, enabling each wasp to
launch more than one attack, which the feisty little critters did
with resolute gusto.
As
the almost unbearable pain being inflicted on his cute little bare
tush surged through the handsome jungle boy’s lithe young body, Boy
yelled out in pain. His cries echoing through the deep green jungle
to be heard, a mile away, by someone to whom that voice, especially
when expressing pain, was very familiar.
Tarzan,
who was busily repairing the damage to his tree-house, caused by a
recent tropical storm, jumped to his feet uttering a single syllable
“Boy!”. He took hold of a vine, and launched himself into the
air, swinging through trees in the direction from which the yells and
cries were coming.
Mongito,
Cheetah the chimp’s son, also recognised the voice, and after
grabbing a certain wooden object, followed his master, vine swinging
through the jungle branches.
Meanwhile,
Boy continued to struggle with the ropes attaching his wrists to the
chair frame, his writhing now even more frantic and urgent than
before, spurred on by the singing insects attacking his exposed
posterior.
After
some further struggle, Boy’s hands were free, and he hurriedly
reached back in an effort to cover his behind with his now free
hands.
Again
Boy was to encounter the troublesome issue of his unfailing bad luck,
for by the very act of urgently grabbing the now stinging and wasp
venom peppered cheeks of his bottom, he had inadvertently spread
those cheeks revealing his most tender, sensitive and private
recesses nestling between the pert round globes.
This
action unintentionally granted one especially inquisitive wasp access
to that region of Boy’s anatomy which any straight boy, such as he
would prefer to keep to himself. This insect intruder made itself
particularly unwelcome when it jabbed it’s stinger into the puckering
pink button of Boy’s tiny anus and unleashed a stream of molten hot
venom.
The
shock of the wasp sting to his anus, sent an electric pulse through
him, causing him to jerk with such violence that the remaining ropes
attaching Boy’s thighs to the chair frame broke, removing the final
attachment which kept him dangling from the snagged parachute.
Of
course, Boy had not thought through the consequences of detaching
himself from the dangling chair!!! Suddenly he was tumbling from the
tree towards the jungle floor thirty feet below. He braced himself
for a heavy landing.
As
a regular reader of Boy’s misadventures will by now have gathered,
fate and coincidence tend to feature large within his life, and in
his case, both are, not to put too fine a point on it, a bit of a
b#tch!
As
fate would have it, there was a large patch of nettles at the foot of
the tree, and Boy plummeted butt first straight into it. This proved
to be a double edged sword, for whereas the nettles served to cushion
Boy’s fall and prevent serious injury, the sting of the nettles
caused Boy’s already wasp stung bottom to burn even more!
With
a yell which was close to a shriek, Boy leaped to his feet clutching
his throbbing and now bright pink bottom. He proceeded to jump up
and down making pitiful whimpering sounds through gritted teeth.
“Oh
man! That hurt!” he groaned out-loud to himself “Why do these
things keep happening to me?!!”
At
least the worst was over, he was back in the jungle, he was on the
ground, he had got away from the wasps and could avoid any more
nettles, the sting in his bottom would eventually fade, nothing
worse could now happen, or could it?
At
that moment, fate again interrupted his thoughts, with an answer to
his question, and not the one he was hoping for. A firm hand tapped
him on the shoulder and a familiar deep voice said “So Boy return
have he?!”
Boly
swung round to find the tall and very angry looking figure of Tarzan
standing behind him and knew instantly what that look on the face of
the older man foretold.
“I….I
…I!!!” he stammered, his usually sly but now strangely blank mind
frantically trying to think of an excuse for leaving the jungle and
flying away to another continent without permission or telling his
guardian he was going. But none came to him.
The
tender and caring side of Tarzan was deeply relieved that Boy was
back safe and relatively unhurt, however, his more dominant
disciplinarian, and, it has to be said, vaguely sadistic, side roared
with furious anger that his ward had disobeyed him and put himself at
great risk. He knew that a lesson had to be taught and learned.
Boy
could see exactly what Tarzan was thinking and desperately tried to
avoid the inevitable “Please don’t spank me Tarzan …. sir!!” he
stuttered, I have been stung on the butt by was .. er …. HORNETS
and stinging nettles, my ass is on fire!!!”
“GOOD!”
snapped Tarzan, “It’s no more than you deserve!!” he grabbed hold
of the unhappy Boy’s arm “And it’s about to get a lot worse!!”
With
that, he dragged Boy to a nearby bank, sat down and the pulled the
vainly protesting young hunk over his knee. “How dare Boy sneak off
to God knows where, and not send word for months?!!” he shouted
gruffly “Tarzan will teach Boy a lesson he not forget!!”
“No
please Tarzan!” cried Boy “I’ve learnt my lesson …. I’ve really
learnt my fucking lesson!”
“Boy
Language bad!” growled Tarzan, he lifted a massive paw like hand
and brought it down hard on Boy’s bare wasp and nettle stung bottom
with a resounding SMACK!!
AAAAOOOWWWW!!
Boy’s scream echoed through the jungle followed by a chattering
noise not unlike laughter from the trees full of monkeys nearby. 
Boy’s
scream was soon followed by many more as Tarzan proceeded to deliver
a very hard, and in Trazan’s opinion, well deserved bare bottom
spanking. His large leathery palms whacking down repeatedly on top
of still massively sensitive wasp and nettle stings.
Boy
kicked and struggle, but there was no escape from the jungle man’s
vice like grip.
Boy
has thought things could not get worse, but in fact they were about
to get a whole lot worse as at that moment Mongito, the helpful
chimp, arrived carrying Tarzan’s favourite paddle. The clever little
simian had correctly guessed that Tarzan might have use for the
paddle now that Boy had returned to the jungle.
“Well
done little friend!” cried Tarzan, reaching out and taking the
paddle “You know Tarzan have need for this!”
At
that moment Boy resolved that the monkey would die, as soon as the
big guy was not looking, the ape would be history, and it would have
a painful death that was for sure!!
Boy
did not have long to contemplate his planned revenge on Mongito, as
his mind was quickly occupied by something more immediate and
painful, as Tarzan pushed him down on his back, lifted his legs in
the air, placing him in the so called diaper position and proceeded
to paddle his already spanked and stung bottom.

Boy
yelled and protested in agony as the hard wooden bat delivered swat
after swat to his well punished behind.
Then
Boy made another of the many mistakes he had made that day, in the
middle of yelling and shouting he suddenly let rip with a stream of
obscene language and called Tarzan a very nasty name.
“WHAT
BOY SAY?” thundered Tarzan
“I’m
sorry … I didn’t mean it!!” he gasped as the realisation of what
he had done sunk in. But it was too late, Tarzan decided that Boy
needed an even more severe punishment. He picked Boy up, threw him
over his shoulder and carrying the lad like a sack, began swinging
through the trees towards the edge of the jungle.
Boy
looked around he recognised the direction they were heading in and
the realisation of what was in store began to dawn on him.
“Oh
NO!!” he cried “Not THAT!! …. not THE ANTS!!”
“It
is what Boy deserve …. it is what Boy gets!!” replied Tarzan
Upon
reaching the edge of the jungle, Tarzan made his way, on foot, out
into the savannah, still carrying Boy, until they reached a massive
ant hill, on top of which Boy was required to sit for all of ten
minutes, while the angry ants bit and stung his well punished bottom.
Boy
had only been punished this way once before, when he had been caught
peeping on the village girls bathing, but he did not need reminding
how painful it was of how long the sting would last. These African
ants had a very potent bite, the sting from which would not even
start to fade for for 24 hours.
Boy’s
bottom would recover to it’s original cute, pristine and unspanked
state, but he would be a very sore jungle boy for some while before
it did!!
 Boy
was back home, his bottom was glowing like a little red beacon,
everything in the jungle was back to normal!!
The
End
Posted on

The JockPunishers – Episode 1 “Logan and the Chilli Crushers”

The
JockBusters – Episode 1
Logan
and the Chilli Crushers
Adam
Murphy, Darren Galloway and Todd Singer, had first met at their local
gym after many years during which all three, being shy and studious
boys, with limited skills on the sports field, had been the victims
of bullying and hazing by handsome, athletic jocks who had made their
lives generally miserable.
This
pattern had continued when they became young adults, and by pure
coincidence, all three had finally concluded that the best way to
deal with the ongoing harassment was to toughen up and fight back, it
was for this reason that they had joined the gym.
The
trio soon became good friends, and it was not long before they began
sharing their experiences, and it was then they discovered how much
they had in common, both in terms of what had happened to them, and
also a shared desire to exact revenge, not only for themselves, but
also for other victims of bullies.
Together
they decided that it was time for payback, and that the handsome,
arrogant, jocks and athletes who believed their superior strength and
good looks gave them the automatic right to torment weaker guys would
find themselves on the other side of the punishment, and it would be
they who would be getting their cute butts kicked, spanked and
generally abused.
And
thus the Jock Punishers were born.
The
first unfortunate jock to encounter justice at the hands of the Jock
Punishers was Logan Fairchild. Logan’s family had made a fortune
importing hot chillies from the Far East, bought for a pittance from
poor farmers and sold at ten times cost price in America.
Despite
being a talented swimmer, with a great physique, Logan’s grades would
never have earned him a place at college, had his family money not
eased his path.
Although
Logan’s athletic good looks made him stand out from the crowd, he
also stood out by virtue of the sheer unpleasantness of his
character. Things in life had always come easy for Logan, however,
instead of being grateful, his good luck had made him arrogant and
selfish, features which, together with his innate cruel streak made
him the ideal subject for the Jockpunishers’ brand of justice.
Logan
had often bullied smaller, weaker guys, however, he had also
developed a nasty habit of hitting his girlfriends. This was getting
more violent each time it happened, and his last girlfriend, Mary
Jane Danvers, had ended up in hospital after he got drunk and beat
her up.
Of
course, as usual, Logan’s Daddy’s money had saved him from the
consequences of his actions. An expensive, smooth talking, lawyer
had made any charges go away, and the girl’s family had been paid
off. So, once again, Logan thought he’d got away with it and that he
could carry on being top Jock on campus, as if nothing had happened.
The Jockpunishers however, had an entirely different plan for him!
____________________________________
After
a late night swim, Logan was in the locker room shower, he thought he
was alone, however, he was wrong.
Intent
on cleaning his private parts in advance of an anticipated hot date
with a new girlfriend later that evening, Logan did not notice that
three shadowy figures had entered the room and were quietly creeping
towards him.
It
was not until they were standing right behind him they he realised
someone was there! He spun round to find three men, all dressed in
black, grinning menacingly at him. All three held what appeared to
be large Paddle ball pats, with the ball and string removed.
“What
the fuck do you perverts want?”! He snapped
“Your
Ass!” replied one of the men. As he delivered a resounding SMACK to
Logan’s bare, wet, butt cheek!
“OWW!
Fuck You!” shouted Logan, trying hard to hide how nervous the
malevolently grinning men made him feel. “Who are you?”
“We
are your worst nightmare Logan!” replied one of the grinning men,
“We are going to give you what you deserve!” He lifted the paddle
he was holding “and that means you will not be sitting down for a
while!”
Like
most bullies, Logan was a natural coward, strong and aggressive when
dealing with a woman or a lone and weaker male, he reacted with
increasingly terrified panic when confronted with three strong men.
“Guys…
guys, … I don’t know what your beef is, but can we talk about
this?”
“No
chance!” Came the reply, as the men grabbed him and and pulled him,
protesting, to the athletic medical training room next to the
showers.
They
pushed him face down across a training table and tied his hands and
feet together, before securing them to the table.
Logan
realised there was no point trying to argue with the three men so he
tried calling for help “HELP! … HELP ME!!” he yelled.
Moments
later, he was silenced when a sock was pushed into his mouth and held
there with a white cotton gag.
Struggling
against his binds, Logan’s eyes widened with nervous bemusement when
one of the men took a plastic bag from his pocket and emptied a small
collection of chillies onto one of the training benches. Logan
recognised them as Thai Demon Chillies, a particularly hot type of
chilli pepper, which his family imported from the Far East.
“All
will become clear!” grinned one of the men, noticing Logan’s
bemused expression.
“We
are here to punish you Logan” continued another of the black clad
men. “I doubt you have ever been really punished in your life, and
you have got away with many things, now its payback time!”
“Comeuppance!”
added the third man.
“We
are going to ensure that you pay for what you did to people like Mary
Jane and all the others you have abused and bullied in the past!”
“And
we decided to make it a poetically appropriate punishment. We will
punish the part of you which most symbolises your character, and we
will use the very things which enabled your family to buy you out of
trouble! Continued the first man, as he picked up a chillie.
“We
are going to demonstrate an inventive new method of crushing
chillies!” he laughed “and we are going to use your pretty ass to
do it!”
Then,
while the other two men held Logan still the first man reached out
his hand and parted the cheeks of Logan’s smooth white buttocks,
exposing the young jock’s tight, pink, and, until then, virgin anus. 
 
He
inserted the pointed end of the chilli into the tiny, puckered,
orifice, which closed tightly around it, so that the other end of the
chilli, with the tip of green stem protruded upwards, poking out,
like a periscope, from between the snowy white cheeks.
Due
to his fear, Logan’s muscles tightened, involuntarily gripping the
chilli even tighter, so that it became impossible to shake it free,
even if the men had let him try. 
 
The
first man in black, then held the bat under Logan’s face “What
d’ya’ thinka’ our chilli crushers fella’?” he laughed “d’ya’
think they’ll catch on?” 
 
“NNNMMMMNNNH!”
stammered Logan through his gag, as, the realisation of what the men
had planned began to dawn on him.
The
men then took up position behind Logan, before each in turn raised
their paddles in the air and, one by one, brought them down with a
WHACK! On the unlucky jock’s tender bare behind, as Logan struggled
in a vain attempt to avoid the blows.
At
first the resilient chilli remained intact, the whacks from the
paddles simply forcing it more deeply into Logan’s quivering rectum.
Then, as the men continue to aim swats at Logan, bit by bit the
chilli began to split and break up, leaking juice and fiery seeds
onto Logan’s exposed and sensitive skin.
Logan
had a very low tolerance of any form of discomfort, and as the
bruising whacks from the large hard paddles sent shock waves of pain
shooting into his buttocks he was convulsed in agony. However, it
soon got worse, as the burning chilli juice and even hotter seeds
began to have their effect on the most private and delicate region
causing a searing burn, not dissimilar from what he imagined having a
red hot poker inserted into him might feel like.
As
one chilli was destroyed the men replaced it with another from their
small supply, until all had been thoroughly crushed into their
unfortunate captive’s anus.
By
the time they had finished Logan was moaning and weeping through his
gag, as tears ran down his face. His butt cheeks and ass hole a
searing furnace of pain.
The
Jockpunishers were satisfied that this arrogant and cruel young jock
had been suitably punished for his crimes, but they had not quite
finished with him yet.
*****
The
next morning the students arrived at college to a most unusual
spectacle, of Logan’s final humiliation as he dangled, bare assed
from the college flagpole displaying a sign announcing that he beat
up girls, and inviting his fellow students to take a swat at him with
a conveniently placed paddle beneath him.
Logan’s
battered butt cheeks remained red for the rest of the day, but it was
almost a week before the burning sensation in his little pink rosebud
finally faded. Even so, it took much longer than that for the
scalding pain to his ego to subside, only to be lit again from time
to time, as the memory of his humiliation took it’s place in college
folk law and returned to remind him.
The
Jockpunishers had brought justice to one deserving jock, but their
work was not done, there were many more handsome, spoilt and arrogant
young jocks in need of punishment, and the three avengers intended to
bring it to them.
_________________________________________
If
the JockPunishers prove popular they will return now and then as an
occasional series
Posted on

Spank the Trash

THE DAY THE TOWN’S BAD BOY GOT HIS COMEUPPANCE
 
 EVERYONE ENJOYED THE FUN, APART FROM CORY TODD!!
LEFT THERE OVERNIGHT FOR ALL TO SEE WAS ADDED HUMILIATION
____________________________
These pictures were created quite a few years ago, but I don’t think they were ever posted here
Posted on

Two boys spanked with a rice paddle

The Japanese Rice Spoon scenes from Discipline Down Under 3

 
More High Quality images from Discipline DownUnder 3 can be viewed by
clicking here


Discipline Down Under 3 was released by Sting Pictures in 2010 and is 1 hour 6 minutes long 

Featuring 20 Stinglads including:



Robbie Estivez, Darren, Jame Bruce, Stefanel, Sebastian, Rowan Hunter, 
Sean Ronson, Joshua Black, Andreas and Alex Granger

Set in an Australian School at a time when they knew just how to deal with naughty boys!

 

Posted on

A bully’s Comeuppance

Aiden
Hunter was the handsomest guy in school, all the girls loved him, no
matter how badly he treated them, and all the other guys admired him,
that is, until they found out what an arrogant, swollen headed jerk
he was.
A
talented athlete, from a wealthy family Aiden had always gotten his
own way, and been able to do as he liked, and what he liked best was
beating up on smaller guys. When Aiden been in the junior league had
been an out and out bully, always using his superior strength to make
life hell for the smaller and younger boys. When he turned 18 and
joined the senior team he thought he could carry on the same way, but
he could not have been more wrong.
Many
of the senior team had younger brothers who Aiden had hazed, or
younger sisters who he had used and dumped when he grew bored of
them. Two of the seniors, Clay Todd and Rudy Tucker decided it was
time for young Aiden’s comeuppance, and, that payback would land
firmly, and painfully, on Aiden Hunter’s tender, cute and virgin
white bottom.
Once
overpowered and died to a treatment bench, with his long, athletic
legs spread high in the air and him jock-strap framed bottom exposed
and vulnerable, Aiden had no option to take everything they had
planned for him … and they had a lot planned ….!!
____________