Author: bruce

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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 …
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What would you do with Jordan?

I
am currently working on Chapter three of The Shamen’s Revenge
detailing the next stage of the ongoing punishment of arrogant bully
and swimming jock Jordan Draper.
This
may not be ready until the end of the week, however, I know some
people are impatient to know what the shaman in store next for
Jordan’s unlucky bottom.
However,
remember that, like a TV series sometimes you have to wait until next
week for the next episode.
Meanwhile,
to entertain yourselves and other readers, if you have any thoughts
or fantasies as to you wat you would do to Jordan, why not write a
comment below and tell us what you would do to Jordan.
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge – Part 2 (Dr Shultz’s Prescription)

The
Shaman’s Revenge – Part 2
  
Dr
Shultz’s Prescription

(Click here to read part one and here to read the prologue)
Dr
Shultz arrived at the College infirmary ahead of his usual time, he
had a busy week ahead of him with a series of students, mostly from
the athletic teams, visiting him, either for treatment, or more often
with the young athletes, for a medical check up, and he wanted to
ensure he had everything ready for them.
This
was especially true in respect of the first patient that morning, 18
year old Jordan Draper, a member of the college swimming team, and
widely considered to be one of the most handsome and popular jock’s
in the College. Although the doctor noted that Jordan’s popularity
rather depended on whether one belonged to his “in” crowd or not.
Jordan
was due for his bi-annual medical, which all members of the swim team
were required to undergo. He was also the student regarding whom
Coach Amundsen had phoned the doctor the night before.
The
doctor and the coach were like minded men who had, over the years,
developed and understanding and a mutual approach to dealing with
certain problematic male college students. They both believed in
discipline, and that discipline was most effective when it had real
impact.
Consequently,
when he had received the call from Thor Amundsen the doctor had
immediately understood what was required, and knew what he had to do,
therefore, he began his day by making the necessary arrangements.
True
to form, Jordan was late for his appointment. Punctuality in such
matters is an act of consideration, and as Jordan had little if any
consideration for other people, and he invariably kept them waiting.
As the Doctor checked his watch and noted how tardy the young athlete
was he nodded to himself, the coach clearly had just the right
treatment in mind for this young man.
Ten
minutes late for his appointment a nonchalant and somewhat bored
looking Jordan arrived at the infirmary for his medical. The sight of
Jordan caused the doctor to frown with irritation, the students were
no longer required to wear uniforms, other than on formal occasions,
but they were expected to dress smartly. However, Jordan was wearing
a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian T-Shirt, a souvenir from his Easter
vacation, which was not what the Doctor considered suitable attire
for college.
When
requested, Jordan calmly stripped to his jockstrap, as a senior year
athlete he was now well used to the procedure.
The
doctor asked him to step onto the moving treadmill and first walk and
then run on the spot for five minutes at varying speeds. Meanwhile
Dr Schultz stood behind the young athlete watching, the young man’s
well rounded, smooth and hairless white bottom fist swaying gently as
he walked, then bouncing up and down as he ran, framed by the tight
athletic jockstrap. The Doctor smiled to himself, imagining what
plans Coach Amundsen has in store for that wondrous object which was
juggling away in front of him.
After
the treadmill session the doctor checked Jordan’s pulse, heart beat
and blood pressure, as he expected with such a fit young specimen as
Jordan, the results were excellent. However ,the doctor frowned and
shook his head in apparent surprise “It looks as if your vitamin
levels are a bit low young man!” he said “we will have to do
something about that!”
Jordan
as rather nonplussed this was the first time in his young life that
the results of a medical has been anything but perfect. Perhaps all
those late nights in bars pursuing the local girls had been having an
effect on him. “Is that serious Doc?” he asked.
“It
could be if we don’t treat it!” replied the Doctor “What you need
is a course of vitamin shots, please lie face down on the table!”
“Huh
.. why face down?” asked Jordan
“So
that I can give you your shots!” replied the Doctor
“You
mean … in my butt? … why not the arm?”
“It
needs to be in the bottom, otherwise in will not be effective!”
said the doctor calmly “Now get on the table”
“No
way Doc!” replied Jordan disdainfully “You ‘ain’t jabbing my
butt!”
“Either
do as you are told, or I will inform the Coach, and he will take you
off the swimming team!”
Jordan
paused, he did not want to be removed from the team, and, after the
incident in the locker room, he certainly did not want to anger Coach
Amundsn. Reluctantly, and with a very glum expression on his handsome
face he climbed onto the table and lay down on his stomach.
Dr
Shultz’s eyebrow raised as he allowed his gaze to travel slowly over
Jordan’s firm young body stretched out before him, like a sumptuous
cannibal banquet. Long muscular legs and torso, a light golden brown
from exposure to the sun, whilst in between the two nestled that
incredible bottom. A much lighter colour, almost snowy white, having
been protected from the tanning rays by tight speedos. Plenty of
exercise and a fine muscle structure meant that it did not flatten as
the body lay flat, but rose like two ivory globes, almost presented
to him as trophies encircled by the white cotton of his jockstrap.
Although,
through the conventions of the time, the doctor was married with
children, whereas, thirty years later hi life might have taken a
different course. For Schultz was highly susceptible to the
attractions of a beautiful youth, and the sight before him was
enticing enough to challenge the sexuality of of the most
heterosexual of men. He tried not to grin, but it was always a bonus
to enjoy one’s work.
On
an impulse he plucked a thermometer from his desk, shook it, and
before Jordan knew what was happening, he had parted the boys butt
cheeks and inserted the ice cold glass tube into the tight pink
button of an anus between, enjoying Jordan’s sudden shocked intake of
breath as he did so.
“What’s
that?” asked a clearly displeased Jordan, looking back over his
shoulder.
“I’m
taking your temperature, now lie still!”
“Does
that have to be ….. there to?!!” grumbled Jordan
The
Doctor stepped back to survey the delightful vision before him, of
the handsome swimmer lying face down on the table with the tip of the
rectal thermometer intruding from between the cheeks of his buttocks.
The
doctor deliberately left the thermometer in place longer than
necessary to take a temperature, as he enjoyed Jordan’s humiliation.
This
was obviously the first time anything had been inserted into Jordan’s
tight, straight little rosebud, and he clearly did not like it. The
Doctor contemplated whether if might be fun to add an anal
examination to the young man’s next visit.
When
he finally removed the thermometer, the reading was normal as he had
expected with such a healthy young athlete , however, the Doctor
tutted as if there was another problem. “Well young man!” he said
ominously, you are definitely in need of these shots!”
He
picked up a small vile of clear liquid and shook it “This will
resolve the problem!” he said “Just so long as you complete the
course!”
“Course?”
Jordan did not like the sound of that.
“Yes,
you will need to return on Wednesday and again in Friday …. for
booster shots..!” as he spoke he picked up a large are rather old
fashioned looking syringe from a silver coloured metal tray on his
desk.
Jordan’s
eyes widened as he saw the size of the needle “That’s fucking
huge!” he gasped.
“Don’t
swear boy!” snapped the doctor “and don’t be a wimp!” as he
spoke he moved towards Jordan holding the unnervingly large syringe.
Jordan’s eyes widened in horror as the doctor approached with the
syringe in his hand, the huge needle seeming to grow larger the
closer it got to him.
The
Doctor used a small swab to rub an area in the right cheek of
Jordan’s bottom, somewhat lower down the gluteus muscle than usual
for an injection, this injection had a specific purpose and was
applied to the area most in need of attention. Then, before Jordan
had time to brace himself, he jabbed the needle hard into the young
athlete’s well rounded butt cheek.
“OWW!”
yelled Jordan, “that f … that hurt Doc!”
“Don’t
be a girl Draper, it’s only a little prick!”
Jordan
frowned, accusing others of being girlish was a favourite insult of
his, and he did not like getting it back. However, the insult was
quickly forgotten, as to his horror he saw the Doctor pick up a
second syringe which he then filled front the same vial of
translucent liquid.
“Not
another!” he gulped
“You
need one in each buttocks” smiled the doctor “so the vitamins are
equally distributed you see!” he continued, correctly guessing that
Jordan’s limited grasp of science would not lead him to challenge his
assertion. 
 
The
Doctor then proceeded to repeat the process of applying an alcohol
swab, followed by a sharp needle jab, this time in Jordan’s left butt
cheek. 
 
Although
on this on this occasion Jordan did brace himself and grit his teeth
seconds before the injection, that did not lessen sting of the
painful jab as the large needle penetrated his sensitive flesh for a
second time.
Again
the doctor targeted the most tender and sensitive area in the lower
part of Jordan’s butt cheek.
“YeeeOWCH!”
he hissed through gritted teeth.
The
Doctor placed the syringe, next to the previous one, on the silver
tray. “Okay, you can get dressed now Draper!” he turned and
looked sternly at Jordan “And make sure you are here again at the
same time on Wednesday for the next dose!”
“NO!!
NO MORE FUCKING INJECTIONS??!” Spluttered Jordan “They hurt!
FUCK OFF!!”
“WHAT
DID YOY SAY BOY!!” Snapped the Doctor “I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO
LIKE THAT!”
Before
Jordan knew what was happening, the Doctor had grabbed him by the
ear, and pulled him across the room before pulling the stunned young
jock over his knee.
“I
will teach you to speak not to speak to your elders like that!”
snarled the genuinely angry Doctor “How dare you use profanity!”
Although
initially caught off guard, Jordan quickly realised what the Doctor
was planning to do. He might have been spanked by Coach Amundsen,
but there was no way he was going to let the Doctor do the same.
Using
the superior strength of the young athlete he was, he easily pushed
the doctor’s hands away and jumped to his feet. “Fuck off Doc! You
ain’t spanking my butt!” he snapped.
“In
that case, I shall inform Coach that you disobeyed me and refused to
take discipline!” replied the Doctor sternly.
Jordan
paused as the implications of the doctor’s threat sunk in. The look
on the doctor’s face told him the man was totally serious and that he
would immediately phone the coach, if Jordan disobeyed him.
There
was no doubt what the coach would do, if the doc told him that Jordan
had refused a spanking, Coach would spank him himself, and after the
events in the locker room, he did not wish to repeat that experience.
If he was going to have to take another spanking, he figured the
Doctor could not possibly smack as hard as the Coach could. So
reluctantly and with his characteristic sulky expression he stepped
forward and lay back down across the Doctor’s lap.
With
that the Doctor proceeded to to deliver a dozen hard Smacks to the
young swimmer’s upturned, and just injected bare bottom!”
Jordan
might have correctly judged that the Doctor would not spank as hard
as the coach, but the spanking still hurt, a lot, especially as the
Doctor was careful to aim the smacks where he had jabbed his needles
only moments before.
“OWW!”
Yelled Jordan “I am sorry Doc, I didn’t mean it!
Instilling
discipline was not usually part of the doctor’s duty but there was
something about Jordan’s arrogant and belligerent attitude which made
spanking his behind a pleasure, and and, of course, Jordan had an
awesome ass! Therefore Doctor Shultz spanked it with relish.
His
only regret was that Jordan’s shots had not yet had time to take full
effect, so the spanking would have less effect than it would in an
hour or so. Coach, he guessed would get the benefit of delivering
that spanking.
The
spanking complete, Doctor Shultz then pushed Jordan off his knee, and
pointed his finger at him. “I will accept your apology, but I will
expect to see you back here on Wednesday … ON TIME … for your
next dose of shots!”
Jordan
grimaced as he rubbed his sore, spanked and jabbed bottom “Not
sure I can make it Doc!” He muttered.
“You
had better make it Boy, or I will tell Coach to take you off the
team!” snapped Dr Shultz
“Fuck!
… Damn!” Thought Jordan, his face now resembling that of a sulky
six year old. He could see the doctor was dead serious, it seemed
that to keep his prestigious place on the swim team he would have to
put up with further injections, despite how much they hurt.
Dr
Schultz allowed himself the merest hint of a grin as a very moody
looking Jordan Draper swiftly got dressed and stomped towards his
office door. “See you on Wednesday Draper!” said the doctor, to
which Jordan responded with a grunt before slamming the door behind
him.
Picking
up his phone, the Doctor dialled a number. “Good morning Coach!
It’s Brian Schultz” he said “Yep I skewered him good …. that’s
right in both cheeks, and with the biggest needles I have!”
He
picked up the glass vial and studies the remaining liquid “It’s an
effective little potion!” he grinned “A totally harmless
stimulant, which was initially used for the treatment of people, who
had lost sensation as the result of a stroke or nerve damage!”
“It’s
use has been largely discontinued because it is just a bit TOO
effective and actually exaggerates sensation, …. especially
unpleasant ones!
“unpleasant
sensations, like a spanking you mean?” replied the Coach from the
other end of the phone line.
“Exactly!”
said the Doctor “He will certainly Feel a spanking …..! … How
long will it last?” … he shrugged “It depends, usually the
effect wears off after 36 to 48 hours!” He smiled broadly “However,
he has been ordered to come back for booster shots on Wednesday and
again on Friday! So my guess is that young Jordan will be sleeping
face down for the rest of the week!”
He
put the vial back in to a box containing further similar vials “It
should start to take effect in about half an hour, So you can be
confident that any ….er… discipline you feel appropriate will
have a significant …. impact where it will have the most effect!”
He paused
“Oh
yes,” he added “I regret that I had to discipline the boy myself,
for using filthy language …. yes a spanking … he will feel that
for a while!”
“That
is perfectly in order” replied the coach from the other end of the
phone, “That young hoodlum needs a lot of discipline and we will
make sure he gets it …. and feels it!! …. thanks for your help!”
“You
are welcome, Coach, any time …. it’s my pleasure to be of
assistance!” replied the Doctor, truthfully, before he replaced
the phone and sat down, a look of satisfaction on his handsome face
“Young Master Draper will not be sitting comfortably for the next
week, that’s for sure!” he though. “and it is no more than he
deserves!”
The
Doctor paused and frowned, for a moment he thought he had heard the
sound an old man laughing. He shook his head and decided he must
have imagined it.
To
Be Continued ….
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge (Part 1)

The
Shaman’s Revenge Part 1

 

 
Capsaicin
College was a handsome, if rambling, mid 18th
Century Colonial Mansion set in extensive grounds, much of which had
been converted into sports fields, running tracks and tennis courts
where pupils were required to undergo strenuous exercise, reflecting
the founder’s belief that the discipline of the young male body was
the door the health, enlightenment and well being of both mind and
body.
The
great house had been converted into an educational establishment for
the sons of Southern Gentlemen in the early 1930’s after the crash
and depression of the 20’s had left its previous owners unable to
maintain its upkeep. As with all old buildings Capsaicin’s ageing
infrastructure remained a challenge for the College administration,
hence the small staff of gardeners, carpenters and handymen were kept
fully employed ensuring it remained in the high standard of repair
which was expected for such a prestigious establishment.
It
was on a sultry late morning in mid July when some members of the
College faculty, including the Deputy principle and the Head Sports
Coach accompanied Will Bryant, the Caretaker as they wondered around
the building inspecting its current state of repair.
On
reaching the side of the building where the old stable block had been
converted into a large modern locker room and showers, the Deputy
Principle, Henry Graves, pointed to a large oblong shape nestling in
the eves. “Those are hornets aren’t they?” he asked “How long
has that nest been there?” 
 
“It
must be quite new replied” Will, secretly irritated that his young
assistant, Chase Coulby (the lazy young brat) had not alerted him to
the problem during his preliminary inspection earlier that day. “It
certainly was not there when we carried out maintenance on the roof
over the Spring break”
“We
will need to get rid of that quite quickly!” snapped Prof. Graves
“Those
brutes can give a nasty sting!”
“I
will get young Coulby onto it next week Sir” replied Will
“I
can think of a few of our male students who might benefit from a good
sting on the bottom!” chuckled Hector Carruthers, the
septuagenarian music professor. The comment was greeted with a smile
of approval from Thor Amundsen, the ruggedly handsome, head coach
with a twinkle in is pale blue eyes, which slightly unnerved some of
the other faculty members.
“Perhaps
so!” replied Prof. Graves, irritably “However, we could do
without the parents suing us!” with that, the group moved on,
leaving their elderly colleague’s prophetic words hanging in the
air.
A
half hour later 18 year Jordan Draper came running across the old
courtyard heading for the locker room. He was dressed in nothing but
a pair of blue speedos and rubber “flip flop” sandals, his
healthy and athletic body and dark brown hair still glistening wet
from the pool, where he had been practising his diving for the
forthcoming tournament with a neighbouring school.
Arrogant,
and pleased with himself, Jordan was the handsomest senior at
Capsaicin. He was good at sports and a popular success with the local
girls, a number of whose hearts he had carelessly broken in the last
year. Who cared if his grades were poor, Sporting success was what
mattered at Capsicin and in Jordan’s mind he was everything he wanted
to be, the top jock on campus, the best looking guy in town, for
Jordan life was good.
Of
course, with the incident with the old man earlier that day
forgotten, Jordan could not know that his lifelong good luck was
about to desert him.
Upon
entering the locker room Jordan sauntered over to the bench where he
had left his sports bag, unzipped it and pulled out a can of soda
from which he took two large swigs, before carelessly tossing the can
down on to the bench beside him, allowing the heavily sugared liquid
to spill onto the painted wooden surface.
The
handsome lad then kicked off his flip flops and stripped off his
speedos, which he slung, still dripping wet into his sports bag.
Despite being now completely naked, on such a hot and humid day, the
locker room was uncomfortably stuffy, so Jordan stood on the bench
and opened one of the skylight windows hoping to let some air in,
whilst blissfully unaware that he would be allowing more than just
air into the room.
Picking
up his towel, he strode, bare foot and butt naked towards the showers
in the next door room, his hairless, tan-line white, bottom bouncing
from side to side, as if it’s pert firmness expressed the casual
arrogance of Jordan’s proud and care-free attitude. 
 
Throwing
his towel onto the shiny paved floor, and stepping into the shower,
the hottest jock on the swimming team turned on the shower and stood
there in all his late teenage glory, enjoying the sensation of the
warm, yet refreshing water pouring over his perfectly formed
athlete’s body.
As
the hot water cascaded down over the smooth pearl white globes of his
perfect bottom, Jordan’s thoughts were on the hot date he had planned
for that evening, with one of the hottest chicks that the campus had
to offer. Little did the handsome swimmer know that far from
indulging in the pleasures of a hot date, he would be spending the
evening nursing a very sore bottom.

 

__________________________________

 

 

 
On
another part of the campus twenty-year-old Chase Coulby was heavily
occupied in matters which had little to do with the job he was paid
to do. Idly pretending to paint the fence near the lacrosse court,
his deep hazel green eyes were actually focused on the figures
running back and forth across the court.
Although
historically a male only college Capsaicin had bowed to the
orthodoxies of the age, and two years previously had opened its doors
to a small number of female students. It was upon a group of these
young ladies, members of the girl’s lacrosse team, that Chase’s
lascivious eyes were feasting.
Chase
was a good looking lad, who, not unlike Jordan Draper, had no
difficulty in getting girlfriends. However, like most young men, one
girl was never enough, and the local girls were not as enticing as
the rich men’s daughters at Capsaicin. The Caretaker’s young
assistant took secret pleasure in spying on scantily clad females
playing sports. And when he wanted to see more, which he usually did,
his job at the College provided him with a number of opportunities to
do so.
Chase
grinned to himself, the lacrosse game would end soon, and then the
young ladies would be heading for their locker room, and when they
did, he would follow them there!!
Back
in men’s locker room, two new figures had just crept into the room.
Glancing quickly around to ensure that there was nobody else there,
the new arrivals, being more occupied with each other, failed to hear
the sound of running water coming from the showers next door.
Turning
face to face, Rubin Dorbny and Martin Clifford, gazed to each other’s
eyes. Only days ago the two students had discovered that the crush
which each had felt for the other since joining the school was in
fact mutual. Since then, neither had thought of anything else but
snatching opportunities to be alone together.
“We
have just over an hour until physics” whispered Dorbney “I wish
it could be longer”
The
words had hardly left his mouth when he was silenced by the force of
Martin Clifford’s hungry lips pressing against his. Within seconds
the two were entwined tightly in each other’s arms, oblivious to all
else, including the handsome, but very straight, swimmer, showering
in the next room.
The
two young lovers were not the only sentient beings to enter the room.
When Jordan Draper had opened the skylight window, he had
inadvertently granted access to two large male hornets. The two
brightly striped insects hovered above the window sill as if they
still expected the transparent glass, which had previously obstructed
them, to still be there. Then, as their acute sense of smell detected
the spilt soda, they flew into the room buzzing noisily as they did
so. Quickly zoning in on the source of the sweet odour, the yellow
jacketed creatures landed on the bench and began sucking up the soda
which Jordan Draper had spit minutes earlier.
The
first two hornets were soon joined by a third, which had also flown
in through the window which Jordan had conveniently opened.
The
two humans meanwhile were too occupied with the excitement of their
intimate embrace to notice the buzzing hornets, as their groping
hands explored each other’s young bodies and their anxious manhoods
began to swell in their pants.
Within
moments, their pants, followed by the rest of their clothing was on
the floor at their now naked feet.
Unfortunately
for Dorbney and Clifford, it was not just stinging insects which had
gone unnoticed, they were also too engrossed in their newly
discovered passion to sense the freshly showered Jordan Draper
re-entering the room.
Jordan
stopped still in amazement, initially unable to comprehend what he
was seeing. In that far less liberated age, where the word “gay”
had only recently begun its transition to its current usage, and
homosexuality was still illegal in some states, including this one,
Jordan had all the prejudices of his era. This, together with all the
instincts of a born bully, meant he was one of the least sympathetic
of people to walk in on two males involved in an illicit sexual
encounter.
“You
pair of queer FAGGOTS!”
sneered Jordan. As the two boys sprung apart as if an electric shock
had run through then, and spun round in horror at the realisation
they had been discovered.
Jordan
dropped his towel, and strode stark naked across the room before
standing menacingly in front of the two younger boys. “Sick
perverts!” he snarled “You should be locked up!” his handsome
lips curled into an incongruously ugly expression “Just wait until
I tell the whole school what you were doing!!”
“P..
please Draper … please don’t!” stammered Rubin Dorbney, the
potential consequences of disclosure, which at the time were
significant, dawning on him in cold terror.
“Please
don’t tell!” echoed Martin, the hopelessness of the appeal clear to
him as the words left his lips. Both the boys knew Jordan Draper
well, having both been the victims of his brutality in the past, and
knew he would take great pleasure both in exposing them, and taking a
leading role in their torment.
Jordan
lunged forward, grabbing Rubin by the throat, and pushing him against
the wall. “Try and stop me!” He yelled.
Although
he did not shine in academic pursuits, Jordan had a natural slyness,
and it quickly occurred to him that he could use this discovery to
his advantage. “What is it worth for to you for me to stay quiet?”
he asked, his voice dripping with malevolence. “If you queers don’t
want me to tell the whole school what you were ….doing..” he
grimaced in exaggerated disgust “then you are going to have to pay
for my silence”
Jordan’s
unhappy victims could tell how serious he was, and knew they would
have to do as he asked, or he would make good as his threat. “I
have $40 in my dorm room” stammered Martin, “I will give you
that!”
“Forty
bucks?!!” sneered Jordan “You had better get more than that!”
“I
get my allowance next week!” whispered Rubin, his voice quaking
with misery “It’s $400 to last the rest of the term … you can
half of that!”
“Half?!”
scoffed Jordan “You had better give me the lot, or everyone will
find out that you and your butt boy there are a pair of stinking
fags!”
The
two boys looked at each other, both knew they would have to agree to
their handsome oppressor’s demands, the attitudes and, legal system
within the state at the time, meant that failure to submit would
shame their families and could even ruin their lives.
“Okay
Draper!” muttered Rubin “You can have it all”
Jordan
turned to Martin and raised his fist in front of his face “What
about you?” he growled “When is your allowance due from Mommy and
Daddy?”
“I
have spent most of it!” replied Martin, the $40 is all I have left.
“Well
write to Mommy and Daddy and ask you more, okay?” glowered Jordan.
“….okay…!”
whispered Martin in defeat.
A
satisfied grin spread across Jordan Draper’s handsome but cruel face.
“Okay, I will stay quiet … for now … but you had better pay me
the cash, or you both know what will happen!” He turned and walked
towards the bench.
As
the two lads watched the handsome and naked jock walk away from them,
his perfect bare bottom, fully exposed. The sight of Jordan’s naked
behind at any other time would have thrilled them, but now they had
other things on their mind Both knew that Jordan’s silence would
last only until he was paid. In their despair they both looked down
and simultaneously noticed the black and yellow striped hornets,
still feeding on the spilt soda. In stunned, wide eyed, fascination
they watched while, as if in slow motion, Jordan turned, looked back
at them, a smirk of arrogant triumph on his face, and began to lower
his bare bottom towards the bench and towards the three feeding and
sting loaded insects still on it.
At
first Rubin did not understand the implications of what he was
seeing. However, Marin immediately realised what might be about to
happen and a thrill of excitement and anticipation pulsed through his
young body.
Jordan
had a bottom that damp and rousing wet dreams were made of, like two
magnificent globes, well formed through regular exercise yet still
tender and sensitive, white as snow and framed between the golden tan
lines of his back and thighs, they were a delight to behold, and
together with his handsome face, one of his most strikingly
attractive features.
The
hornets however saw no beauty in Jordan’s descending backside, only a
large and looming threat which was about to crush them. Their only
instinct was to attack. With loud, angry, buzzes they flew at the
approaching cheeks, and the instant before their sudden demise,
squashed between the hard wooden bench and the pearly whiteness of
Jordan’s rump, they sunk their stingers into the tender flesh in the
lower part of each cheek, expelling a sudden shot of toxic, agony
inducing venom, into the unfortunate jock.
The
third hornet, even more aggressive and adventurous than it’s
compatriots darted between the spreading cheeks to deliver it’s
agonizing payload into the rosebud-like pucker of the young straight
boy’s most tender and unexplored orifice.
As
if shocked by a high voltage power line, Jordan let out a high
pitched, and almost inhuman, scream of anguish as he jumped to his
feet clutching his doubly stung bottom. Prof Graves had not been
wrong when he said that the hornets could give a “nasty sting”
and Jordan had never experienced a level of pain which approached
that which was surging through his bare bubble like bottom, like
three searing hot needles.
The
unfortunate young athlete had been simultaneously stung on both
cheeks of his flawless white bottom by insects renowned for the
potency of their sting, which could cause extreme levels of
discomfort sometimes lasting for days. To make matters worse, and
potentially more embarrassing, the third sting had been planted in
that most sensitive, tender and forbidden location which no living
creature had ever explored before.
Martin
and Rubin watched on wide eyed amazement as their strikingly handsome
tormentor, still as naked as a baby, jumped from foot too foot,
rubbing his bare behind, yelling and howling in pain as his well
proportioned cock bounced up and down.
Ever
the soft hearted one, Rubin almost felt a degree of sympathy for
Jordan, before he reminded himself that the very guy he was feeling
sorry for had, moments earlier, been intent on destroying his and his
new young lover’s lives.
Martin’s
reaction was somewhat more complicated, he was aware of a tingling
sense of delight at what he was watching, which was not entirely due
to a perception of revenge for Jordan’s threats and extortion. When
he would later analyse the pleasure he felt he would realise that it
was the enjoyment of watching a good looking stud getting his
comeuppance in such a painful and potentially humiliating way. This
was a realisation which would come to change his life.
“You
sat on a wasp Draper!” said Martin, struggling only half
successfully to hide the note of sarcasm from his voice “Did it
sting you on the as …er the bottom?”
Jordan
glanced back at the bench and saw the dead hornets “They’re God
damn hornets! and there were two of the fuckers!” he yelled, “and
they both fucking stung me!!” he continued to rub is well stung
behind, whilst jumping upside down, his eyes shut tight in pain.
Despite the pain his remaining pride prevented him from admitting to
the third sting, and where it had been delivered.
“That
must really hurt…” started Martin before the hilarity of the
situation got the better of him and a loud burst of mocking laughter
echoed round the room.
Jordan
swung round, a look of beast like fury on his face. “ARE
YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!!”
he shouted.
“No
..no Draper!!” stuttered Rubin realising the extreme danger Martin
was now in “it was a cough … he coughed!! … honest!!”
“HE
LAUGHED
…. don’t shit me Jew Boy! Jordan looked at Martin his eyes
smouldering with anger “YOU
LAUGHED AT ME DIDN’T YOU, YOU LITTLE WORM?!”
The humiliation of what had just happened began to dawn on Jordan,
that stung him almost as painfully as the hornet, and typically of a
bully, it also made him very angry.
It
took his lithe athletic body no more than a second to spring across
the room and to grab young Martin Clifford tightly by the throat.
“YOU LAUGHED AT ME!!! … YOU THINK IT WAS FUNNY THAT I GOT STUNG
ON THE BUTT, DO YOU?!” he snarled “I’LL TEACH YOU AND YOUR FAGGY
BOYFRIEMD NOT TO LAUGH AT ME!!”
“No
Draper, please, he didn’t laugh!” lied Rubin coming to the aid of
his lover “he coughed!!”
“DON’T
LIE FAG!!” yelled Jordan, aiming a blow at Rubin. The punch
collided heavily with the lower side of Rubin’s face, splitting his
lip and knocking him to the floor.
Jordan
turned his attention back to Martin “I’ll teach you not to laugh at
me you ……!!” he hissed.
Martin
looked defiantly back at the handsome, naked and very angry Jock and
grinned “Whatever you do to me Draper, it won’t change the fact
that you got your bare ass stung by a hornet, and two ‘fags’ saw it
happen, you are angry because you are embarrassed!! …. and I
laughed because it was funny! …. VERY FUNNY!”
“WHAT
DID YOU SAY?!” Screamed Jordan, the truth of Martin’s statement
spurring him to even more fury “YOU ARE DEAD YOU FUCKING QUEER!!
Jordan’s punch bloodied Martin’s nose and knocked his head back
against the wall, yet the smaller student retained his air of
defiance, despite his attacker’s greater strength and athleticism.
Jordan
was unaccustomed to such defiance on the part of his victims, and, as
such, it served to infuriate him even more. He flung himself onto the
smaller boy, and within moments they were wrestling on the floor.
It did not take Jordan long to overpower Martin, and he soon had him
pinned to the floor “You are DEAD queer!” he literally spat with
fury as he raised his clenched fist, preparing to inflict a further
blow to Martin’s face.
“WHAT
ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING DRAPER??!!”
An
outraged voice rang round the locker room. Jordan instantly released
Martin, jumped to his feet and spun round to see the imposing and
muscular figure of Mr.Amundsen, the College’s head coach.
Jordan stared at the older man, one of the few authority figures he had goodreason to be afraid of, and felt suddenly very aware of his
nakedness. “I..I …. they .. they … uh …I..!” he stammered.
“Youwhat? …they what?” stormed Mr. Amundsen, as he hastened across the room and assisted Rubin Daubny to his feet? “You are bleeding boy!” Cried the coach “Did Draper do this to you?” 
 
Before Rubin could answer, Martin spoke for him “Yes, Sir, he did, Draper punched him, and he did this to me!” he pointed at his own bloody nose.
Mr. Amundsen turned to the naked Jock, who had quickly released his grip of Martin. “Draper, I have told you before what would happen if I
caught you bullying other students!!” barked the coach 

 

Jordan’s jaw dropped wide open in stunned horror, the trobbing stings in his bottom suddenly hurt even more as the coach’s earlier
threat “I shall put you over my knee and spank your behind until you can’t sit down for a week Draper!”echoed through his mind.
At
the time he had ignore the words as an empty threat from an odd
foreigner, but the coach’s unnerving expression showed he was very
serious. “B..but Sir, they laughed at me …Sir!” cried the now
quite nervous young swimmer.
“They
what?” demanded the incredulous Mr. Amundsen “You punched them
for laughing?”
“…they
are dirty fags Sir …. sick fucking queers!” blurted Jordan, who
for a moment genuinely believed this explosive information would
defend his behaviour.
Within
an instant the strong Scandinavian coach had grabbed hold of Jordan’s
ear gripping it tightly and painfully between his thumb and
forefinger. “HOW DARE YOU USE SUCH FILTHY LANGUAGE TO ME!! he
yelled, pulling Jodan’s head towards him so that it was inches from
his face. “YOU ARE BADLY IN NEED OF THE LESSON YOU HAVE BEEN ASKING
FOR!!”
Jordon’s
eyes were wide with horror. “No Coach…PLEASE … not ..’gulp’
THAT!”
“Yes..
‘THAT’” snapped Coach Amundsen “The only way to deal with foul
mouthed bullies like you is to apply a good, hard, bare bottom
spanking to him … and repeat it frequently!”
“B…but..
It’s not legal!!” stammered Jordan
“Where
do you think you are Jordan?” replied the coach, this isn’t
Massachusetts, in this state, we believe in a good, old fashioned
education!”
With
that he marched across to room pulling the naked and protesting jock
after him.
Martin
Clifford stood frozen to the spot, adrenaline pumping in his head as
the thrill of anticipation swelled within him. He couldn’t quite
believe what he was about to observe, he was going to watch handsome
Jordan Draper get spanked and had never before felt so excited in all
his life.
Coach
Amundsen brusquely pushed Jordan’s sports bag aside, and sat down on
the bench before, with one firm and well-practised motion, pulling
the naked young athlete face down over his knee.
The
two observers, Rubin and Martin, both gasped in amazement at what
they were watching. Their handsome tormentor of moments before, was
now held firmly across the Coach’s lap, his bare, perfectly formed
and still white bottom on full display, and, seemingly about to be
spanked in front of them.
Jordan
was so stunned that, for a brief moment, he almost forgot about the
throbbing pain from the hornet stings in his bottom. This could not
be happening to him, the acknowledged top jock on campus, was he
really about to be spanked, bare assed in front of two homosexuals?.
He was suddenly very conscious of his nakedne
ss and the vulnerability
of his position.
“You
can’t do this to me coach!” he stammered, struggling to retain his
usual nonchalant manner “not in front of those two fa…. ”
“SMACK!”
Coach Amundson’s large and leather like palm landed with stinging
force across the centre of Jordan’s tender, hornet stung bottom,
causing the young athlete to cry out in pain. “I told you not to
use bad language Draper!” snapped the Coach “How dare you defy
me!”
With
that, he began spanking Jordan’s bare bottom with all the awesome
force that such a fit and powerful sportsman could muster.
If
Jordan’s humiliation had caused him to briefly forget the hornet
stings in his targeted tail, they were immediately brought back into
sharp focus, as every second or third stinging slap from the coaches
leather like palm landed right on one or other of them, sending spear
like jolts of piercing agony shooting into his punished bottom.
“AAAGHHH!!…NO!
…SIR! … PLEASE!..I’VE BEEN STUNG!!… I’VE BEEN STUNG ON THE
BUTT!!”
The
coach stopped for a moment “What are you talking about boy?!”
“The
hornets, Coach” interjected Rubin pointing at the crushed and dead
insects “They stung Draper”
“Stung
him on the bottom!” murmured Martin, trying hard not to grin. “He
sat on them Coach, and they stung his ……. bare bottom! ….. that
must have hurt I guess!”
“The
mother fuckers stung my ass Coach!” Confirmed Jordan and then
immediately yelled in pain as Coach Amundsen delivered a hard slap to
his backside.
“I
told you not to swear boy!” snapped the Coach.
He
raised a quizzical eyebrow as he studied young Draper’s upturned
behind. Now he knew they were there, the hornet stings were
immediately visible as small, slightly raised, and shiny pink mounds
surrounded by a reddening circle. One sting was at the very bottom of
the right buttock cheek just above the top off Drapers smooth and
golden tanned thigh. The second was on the left cheek, nestling
almost on the edge of the sloping divide between the hairless, and
quite magnificent globes.
The
third, more intimate sting remained hidden from view in the tight
crevasse between the cheeks.
Having,
himself, been stung by a wasp in the past the Coach was sure the
angry looking lumps must be very sore, and likely to remain so for
some time. A sudden pang of sympathy tempted him to excuse the young
jock his well-earned punishment, and he might have done so, had the
arrogant young swimmer not immediately ruined his own chances of
escape.
“But
it fucking hurts coach!” yelled Jordan, the expletive so familiar
to his vocabulary that it blurted out before he realised it had done
so.
“Well!
It is going to hurt a whole lot more!” growled a now furious Coach
Amundsen, any vestige of compassion extinguished by one word
evidencing the handsome young athlete’s wilful disobedience. “As I
promised, you will not feel inclined to sit down any time soon!”
It
was then that Jordan Draper’s spanking became serious, fuelled by
anger at the young man’s impertinent disobedience, Coach Amundsen did
not hold back and was soon demonstrating the skills of the formidable
disciplinarian he was. An all-round sportsman, the coach had been a
decathlon champion in his youth and his body was still honed and
supple from rigorous daily exercise. His hands were hard and
calloused from the rock climbing which occupied much of his
vacations, and his arms, the legacy of years of squash, tennis,
rowing and multiple press ups were powerful and muscular.
Irrespective
of the fiery hornet stings. Jordan could hardly have encountered
worse bad luck, after being stung, than to be spanked by an angry
Thor Amundsen.
Adding
incomparably to the raging torment of his bare behind, was the
smarting sting of knowing that his bare bottomed humiliation was
being observed by two little …….!! He cringed inwardly, knowing
with absolute certainty that both boys would spread word of what they
had witnessed far and wide throughout the college.
As
the handsomest and most popular jock in the College, the ignominy of
being publicly spanked was unbearable, yet he had no option but to
endure the shame together with the vigorous battering his bottom was
receiving from the coach’s mighty and relentless palm. This was
turning out to be the worst thing which had ever happened to Jordan
Draper. ….. so far!
As
Jordan was painfully aware, two fascinated onlookers were observing
the somewhat surreal events unfolding before them. Rubin Dorbney
could only stare in wide eyed and stunned amazement, still unable to
fully believe what he was seeing. As for Martin Clifford however, his
reaction was significantly more intricate.
Pulse
after pulse of thrilled anticipation surged through his body, and
there was an increasingly pleasurable stirring in his groin. He had
been aware for some while that he gained voyeuristic pleasure from
visual stimulus, and had struggled to avert his eyes while changing
before and after sports, but he had only discovered how explosively
that pleasure increased when the subject he was watching was as
handsome as Jordan Draper and experiencing simultaneous discomfort
and humiliation.
Martin
had been aware of Jordan Draper since he first arrived at Capsaicin
College. A strikingly handsome youth with a triple “A+” body,
Jordan had featured in quite a few furtive fantasies, but these were
trivial compared to the reality he was watching. On many occasions he
had observed the enticing shape of Jordan’s bottom, either covered in
college uniform gray slacks, or encased in the tight skimpy Speedos
worn by the swimming team, many times he had imagined how it would
look naked. It had been a delightful revelation earlier, even when
Draper had been bullying and blackmailing him, to see that the
reality was even better than he had dreamed, two small firm globes,
strikingly white in contrast to the swimmers otherwise tanned and
golden body, it combined the muscularity of the young athlete but
with the tender looking vulnerability of Jordan’s perfect, blemish
free and hairless, skin.
“Blemish
free”! Would, perhaps, no longer be an accurate description of
Jordan’s incredible rump, which, although still perfectly shaped, had
now developed a bright pink hue, which was turning increasingly
redder by the second. This, to Martin’s fast developing eye made it
all the more enchanting. He could only begin to guess how sore
Jordan’s lovely bottom must be, he had seen the hornets and heard
Jordan’s anguished reaction to their stingers, he could now see how
hard Coach Amundsen was spanking it, so it was clearly very, very
sore.
This
certainty was all the more exciting for Martin as was, for reasons he
could not yet fully understand, knowing just how embarrassing and
humiliating this experience would be for a proud, conceited and
arrogant guy as Jordan Draper. Martin grinned to himself “The
jerk’s ego must be stinging almost as much as his butt” he thought
“ .. well, almost!!”
Now
well into his stride, Coach Amundsen, was now devoting significant
effort into to punishing his 18-year-old captive’s bottom which was
already stinging worse than anything Jordan could recall
experiencing. Even the fire ants which had stung him while camping
with his scout group many years ago, until then, the worst pain he
had ever experienced, did not come close to this.
Poor
Jordan, he was receiving the bare bottom spanking he had long
deserved and it was a more complete punishment than even his worst
enemy would have wished on him. Even the automatic impulse reaction
of clenching his buttocks merely added to his discomfort, on account
of the inconveniently located hornet sting between them.
That
aside, he could no longer individually sense the pain from the hornet
stings, that pain had now merged with the escalating burning pain,
which had now spread to all parts of his bottom, and to the tops of
his thighs, an especially sensitive zone which the ever thorough
Scandinavian disciplinarian had deliberately not ignored.
Jordan
Draper had the dual misfortune of having a particularly sensitive
bottom, combined with the low pain threshold which is so often a
trait of bullies. These, characteristics, added to his unusually
inflated sense of personal ego, served to exaggerate the trauma of
his ordeal, well beyond that which another lad in his position might
experience (if another lad had been quite so unlucky) 
 
Although
Martin’s eyes were mostly fixed on Jordan’s increasingly reddening
bottom, at one point the handsome swimmer briefly kicked his legs in
the air drawing Martin’s gaze to two objects on the floor, Jordan’s
rubber flip-flops and a thrilling thought shot through his mind. He
stepped forward and picked up one of the rubber shoes.
“Excuse
me Coach” he said politely “You could make your palm quite sore,
doing that….. would this help?!” he held out his hand holding the
flip-flop towards the Coach.
The
Coach stopped spanking for a moment and looked thoughtfully at the
object which the boy was offering him. He then took the flip-flop
from Martin’s hand, and smacked it against the palm of his hand,
noting with approval the stinging sensation and loud “WHACK!” of
pliable India Rubber against flesh.
“Excellent!”
he said “Thank you Clifford … very considerate of you Boy!”
Jordan
looked back over his shoulder and saw the flip-flop in Coach
Amundsen’s hand, he also say the looked of feigned innocence in
Martin’s young face. For a moment the burning hatred he now felt for
Martin almost took his mind off the burning sting in his bottom.
Albeit the defining word in that sentence was “almost” and the
distraction was extremely brief.
Within
moments the room rang to the rifle crack like whacks of the rubber
flip-flop infracting sharply with the unhappy Jordan’s bottom.

AlthoughCoach Amundsen’s leathery palm had been a formidable spanking weapon,
the whippy rubber flip-flop was even worse, and the pain in Jordan’s
rump was now quite unbearable.
Suddenly
he felt tears welling in his eyes, and an uncontrolled sob raising in
his throat, and realised in horror that he was about to cry. Whatever
else happened, he could not allow that, he could not be seen publicly
bawling over a spanking, like some little kid.
Attempting
to hide the oncoming tears Jordan reverted to street thug mode by
swearing, cursing and, at one point threatening the coach with the
police if he did not stop However, given the powerlessness of his
situation and the audible tremble in his voice, the threats and
cusses just sounded comical and would have caused Martin to bust out
laughing, had he not controlled himself just in time.
One
person who was certainly not amused was Coach Amundsen, Jordan’s
unwise behaviour simply served to infuriate him further, so that he
increased the power of his smacks even more, and actually made sure
that on good number of occasions the rubber sole of his new weapon
landed squarely where the hornets had left their fiery stings.
Try
as he might, the tears kept coming and the sob kept raising towards
Jordan’s mouth, until neither could still be held back. The tears
began to flow freely down his flushed pink cheeks and the sob
exploded from between his lips, loud enough, he was sure, to be heard
by the two lads still watching his shame.
Soon
all defiance was gone, and he began sobbing and wailing in
uncontrolled misery all thought lost in the world of pain radiating
from his well punished bottom, which, whilst still beautifully
shaped, now glowed with a hot and rosy shade of red.
The
sound of Jordan’s sobs, whilst further exciting Martin Clifford,
finally eased the Coach’s anger to the point where he finally stopped
spanking Jordan. Unaware of the young swimmers earlier threats, and
attempts to extort money from the other two lads, Amundsen’s more
sympathetic side took over. If the boy was crying, he had seemingly
have been punished enough for the crime of using forbidden profanity.
“Get
up boy!” he snapped giving Jordan a shove which almost sent him
tumbling to the floor.
Jordan,
struggled to his feet and stood there, deeply aware of his newly
shameful nakedness, his hands clasped over his groin, but unable to
hide is bright red, just spanked, bottom which was, in fact, the
primary object of Martin and Rubin’s attention. Jordan stared at the
floor, his tear stained, but still dashingly handsome face now
glowing almost as brightly as his bottom.
The
Coach stood up and faced Jordon, “I hope you have learnt your
lesson boy!” he said sternly “However, if I hear you swearing
like that ever again…. or spreading malicious rumours about these
boys … I will treat your little bare bottom like a squash ball! ….
do you understand me?”
“y…yes
..yes Coach” murmured the deeply wretched Jordan.
He
glanced up briefly, and in doing so, caught sight, from the corner of
his eye, of the broad grin of pleasure and satisfaction on Martin
Clifford’s face. His misery instantly turned to, barely controlled,
fury. Had Coach Amundsen not been in the room, there is no doubt that
face would right then be being rammed repeatedly into the concrete
floor of the locker room.
It
was at that moment that Jordan Draper’s, ill fated, determination to
get his revenge took root.
It
was the middle of the night and Jordan Draper could not sleep.
Although the events in the locker had happened almost 14 hours
earlier, his bottom still stung so badly that he could only achieve a
degree of comfort by lying in his stomach. Even then the burning
sensation was hard to endure, and even the soothing cream which he
had liberally, if gingerly, rubbed into it, had minimal effect.
The
spanking from Coach Amundsen had been hard and thorough, leaving a
long lasting impact on Jordan’s tender booty, however, even when that
eventually began to fade, the three hornet’s dying bequests, still
throbbed painfully, and, as he was to discover, would continue to do
so for most of the weekend.
The
day had not improved after he had finally escaped the locker room. A
90 minute English test had to be undertaken whilst sitting down on
his punished bottom, resulting, perhaps predictably, in Jordan
achieving an even lower score than even he would usually expect.
Like
most local students at Capsaicin, Jordan still lived at home with his
family, rather than in one the college dorms or Fraternity Houses.
Although usually an indulgent parent, his father insisted that the
family all sit down for dinner each evening, so his son had to endure
a two course family dinner whilst doing what he least wanted to do
that evening, sitting down.
To
add the cherry, or more accurately to poison the cherry on top of a
horrible day Jordan had to turn down Lucy-Mae McCormick, who had
phoned to suggest a drive to the lake. Despite this strongly implied
offer of sex, Jordan could not risk failure to perform, or worse
still, Lucy-Mae catching sight of his obviously spanked bottom. He
could tell she was offended to be rejected, and he doubted that she
would repeat the offer.
Hence,
his mood had only deteriorated from an, already low, point, and was
by now thunderous with a rage which could only be slated by achieving
revenge.
A
natural coward, Jordan would not dare extract revenge on someone as
hard handed as Coach Amundsen, so he focused on the two young gay men
who had witnessed his shaming.
Unaware
that due to Rubin’s reluctant sympathy and Martin’s ambivalence about
his own reaction to what he had observed, neither had spoken of what
had occurred in the locker room, Jordan was convinced that the two
would spend the weekend telling everyone what they had seen. Soon his
dislike of the lovers had developed into a passionate hatred.
He
was resolved to get his own back on the two boys, it only remained to
determine how. His plotting, fuelled by the continuing sting in his
tail, would fully occupy him over the following weekend, but it was
not until the middle of Sunday afternoon that an idea began to form.
Coach
Amundsen was sitting at the desk in his office. He was alone in the
empty building, as, having a busy week ahead, the dedicated teacher
had come in on Sunday evening to complete some preparation.
From
time to time over the weekend, his earlier punishment of Jordan
Draper had crossed his mind, he wondered if he had been too hard on
the lad, and punished him too severely. It was after all no longer
the 1960’s, and salty language was more common than when he had been
Draper’s age, almost twenty years before.
However,
it had not just been Draper’s language which had angered him, he
guessed that Draper had been bullying the two younger boys, and he
suspected he knew why. Coach Amundsen’s Scandinavian background had
made him more liberally minded towards homosexuality than most in the
Southern States of America at that time, and would not tolerate
unkind treatment of vulnerable students on his watch.

 

From
Asmundsen’s desk, he had an unobstructed view down the corridor to
the college administrative offices at the other end. Squinting into
the gloom he made out a figure moving with apparent stealth. Making
this even more suspicious was the fact that the figure was wearing a
hooded winter jacket, despite the warm summer evening.
The
person, who appeared to be male and carrying a rucksack, crossed the
corridor to the door of the college bursar’s office, where he stopped
and took something from the pocket of his jacket, which he proceeded
to force into the lock. After manipulating this for a few moments,
the door opened and the figure entered the room. 
 
It
was clear that, whoever this was, was up to no good. Assuming he had
spotted a burglar committing a crime, Amundsen leapt silently from
his chair. And crept up the corridor towards the door through which
the intruder had just entered.
Peering
through the crack in the door, Amondsen could see the intruder, who,
even in the half light of the mid-Summer dusk, was instantly
recognisable. As the Coach watched the youth, who was standing by the
Bursar’s desk, forced open a drawer and took out an object. He then
moved quietly to a glass fronted cabinet, from which he took another
object and then turned back towards the door.
Having
identified the prowler, the Coach was now interested to find out what
he would do next, so, instead of confronting the person, he slipped
into the deputy principle’s office and hid himself behind the door.
He watched as the young man left the bursar’s office and turn back
down the hall. Then, once he was confident he could do so without
being seen, the Coach stepped quietly into the corridor and followed
the still furtive figure.
-/-
Twenty
minutes later, Coach Amundsen returned to his office, a thoughtful
expression on his face. He approached his desk picked up the
telephone, dialled a number and waited for it to be answered.
“Dr
Shultz? It’s Thor Amundsen .. the Head Coach here.” he said “Good
evening. … I am sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I wonder if
you would do me a favour.” he paused allowing the Doctor to agree
“You have one of the swimming team, … Jordan Draper due to have
his quarterly medical tomorrow morning …. yes that’s him …. I
think he would benefit from a nice dose of vitamins … yes that’s
right …. your special preparation. I think a double dose would
appropriate this time, one shot in each cheek! … thanks … I knew
I could depend on you.” he was about to put down the phone before
he added “Oh and Doc ….. please use your biggest needles, and
make sure he feels them, both!”
Thor
Amundsen then sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his
head, as a grin began to slowly spread across his face. From what he
had just observed, he now knew that he had not been too hard on
Jordan Draper …. in fact he had been far too lenient. However, that
was about to change.
Jordan
Draper was about to get a lot more of what he really deserved. The
Shaman’s revenge had only just begun ……..
________________
TO
BE CONTINUED ……….
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Comments and Feedback

I
hope to post the further chapters of the new series “The Shaman’s
Revenge” over the folloing weeks. Handsome young
Jordan is in for an uncomfortable time, as he deserves to, you can be
sure of that!!
However, going forward, I would like to make a request for some feedback and comments.
I
am very grateful to those visitors who do already leave comments.
Thank you so much, Your views, suggestions and thoughts really do
motivate me when I am trying to create images and stories.
Also, as you will have noted,
with this story I am planning to create more descriptive erotic
writing and would love to know what you think.
I
know that hundreds of people visit this site every day and there are
thousands of page views, so I know that some people enjoy what is
posted here.
It
would be great to hear from you, and I hope more of you will leave
comments from time to time, telling me what you think and what you
would like to see.
Thanks
_______________________
  
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge – Prologue

 The
Shaman’s Revenge – Prologue
It
was a Friday morning in mid July 1980, and shaping up to be another
baking hot day, as Goran Dragic shuffled painfully down the street,
carrying a heavy paper bag. 
The old man was finding it increasingly
more difficult to get to the local store, and it was even more
difficult on his way home, as now, carrying his purchases. Since his
recent illness, his aching body had begun to feel every one of his 82
years. He felt tired, and in need of some peace and quiet.
Unfortunately for old Goran, peace and quiet were hard to come by in
the fast paced American city where he now lived, an environment so
different from the Southern Carpathian mountains of his old homeland.
As
he trudged on, his mind wondered back to the land of his youth, a
land, which, at that time, was still behind what was then known as
the ‘Iron Curtain’, where the legends and beliefs from an older time
were only whispered about in secret. Goran, himself, had been the
subject of many whispers at one time, for he was said to have
inherited powers, known as the “Magija”, from the warlocks
and Shamen in his family history.
In
the past, in the high and remote mountain villages, far beyond the
reach of civil justice, his ancestor’s had used those powers to
punish wrong doers, and and to impose natural justice.
Those
beliefs and practices had been suppressed under the Soviet system,
until they had now largely melted into the mists of history. However,
the fact that many had forgotten the old ways did not make the Magija
any less potent. It was a new world now, but unlike his ageing body,
Goran’s powers, and his mind for that matter, were still as strong
and sharp as they had ever been. The powers had not been used in many
years, but he still had them, and could call them up again any time
should he need to.
Thoughts
of his homeland were suddenly knocked from his mind by a violent
jarring impact to his right side, which sent him tumbling heavily to
the ground. 
Knocked from his grasp, the paper bag of groceries
smashed onto the sidewalk.
Dazed
and in pain Goran looked up to see a handsome young man, wearing only
a pair of blue “Speedo” swimming trunks and rubber flipflops,
looking down angrily at him.
Jordan
Draper, being late for swimming practice, had been running through
the streets. Listening to his Walkman, a must have new invention at
the time, and distracted by his favourite Punk-rock band, Jordan had
not seen the old man, and had barged into him, Knocking Goran over
and causing Jordan to drop both his dark glasses and the personal
Stereo, the second of which had landed in a puddle of spilt milk from
Goran’s bag.
“Look
what you did you stupid old fuck!” yelled Jordan picking up the
Walkman, shaking it and attempting to dry it with his towel “It’s
fucking broken!” Jordan was very proud of his Walkman, Sony had
only release the first version the year before, and, as with most
things, Jordan had the newest and most expensive model, now it was
ruined. His anger was increased by the fact that his shades had also
been damaged.
“you
ran into me!” groaned Goran looking around at his new purchased
groceries strewn around amongst broken eggs, spilt milk and a the
shattered bottle of wine he had bought as his one indulgence of the
week.
“You
shouldn’t have been in my way you old Moron!”snarled Jordan
“Help
me up please!” gasped Goran reaching out towards the boy. But
instead of assisting the elderly man, Jordan just swore, and aimed a
kick at him, his foot impacting painfully with Goran’s rib cage and
knocking the wind out of his aged body. It was lucky that Jordan was
only wearing rubber flipflops, had he been wearing shoes, such a kick
would most likely have broken a fragile bone. Even so the kick left
Goran moaning and clutching his side in pain. 
 
“That’s
for breaking my shades, you careless old fuck!” shouted Jordan “Old
morons like you should be dead and not getting in folk’s way!”
Goran
looked up at the youth, and his long trained eyes saw through the
handsome face and the firm, tanned and athletic body to the arrogant,
spoilt and cruel hart beneath them, and he felt a rage welling in his
body of a force he had not felt in many years. “You will pay for
this!” he hissed “you will pay!”
“What?”
sneered Jordan “Fuck off you demented old fool!” he aimed a
second kick at the old man, this time bruising Goran’s stomach and
making him gasp for breath.
“I
will make you pay for this!” gasped Goran
Jordan
laughed cruelly and was about to kick his victim again when he saw
two men walking down the street towards them “Fuck off, you stupid
old fool!” he scoffed “You couldn’t even kiss my ass!” he
turned his speedo clad behind towards Goran and slapped his butt
cheek contemptuously.
“You
will be sorry!” snarled Goran, his bony hands clutching into fists.
“Just wait!”
Jordan
snorted derisively “You are deaf too? you old fuck for brains?”
his lips curled into an ugly grin “I SAID KISS MY ASS!!”
Then,
clutching his broken walkman and dark glasses, and scowling angrily Jordan ran off in
the direction of the local college. He would have liked to give the
stupid old fossil a proper kicking, but was anxious not to be
identified, and perhaps beaten up, by the approaching men.
Old
Goran watched his assailant depart, his shaman’s eyes focused
directly on the seat of Jordan’s skimpy swimming trunks, which the
boy had insultingly invited him to kiss, and at the firm, juggling
young buttocks, which those speedos hugged tightly and almost lovingly.
In
his bisexual youth Goran has not been immune to the attraction of a
beautiful male bottom, but now he felt only burning fury, and an
insatiable need for vengeance. He might not kiss Jordan’s rump, but
his had other plans for it! Through the roaring of his rage he felt
the ancient power rising within him. “You will pay!” he
growled “and you will pay with that little American bottom of
yours!! You will pay and you will keep on paying, until I get my
revenge!!”
He
then spoke in words which no American would recognise, and which few
in those far away and mysterious mountains would remember, but they
were words which were instantly heard and recognised by other things
in a different, darker, place. Things which had slept for a long,
long time but which now began to stir.
Moments
later the two passers by reached Goran and helped the old man to his
feet, as he continued to mutter incantations in an ancient and almost
forgotten tongue.
Meanwhile,
as Jordan ran off down the street towards the college, he could have
no idea of the mystical forces which his cruel and arrogant behaviour
had unleashed and that those long dormant forces were now aimed
directly at his tender and well rounded, Speedo covered, bottom.
The
old man had told Jordan that he would pay for what he did, and the
old man never told a lie.
TO
BE CONTINUED
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Upate Coming Soon

I
know there has not been an update for a few of weeks. However, this
is because I am working on a very large project, which I hope will be
ready in about a week or 10 days.
I
will not say more now so as not to give anything away but I really
hope you will enjoy it and that it will be worth the wait.
___________
Posted on

The JockPunishers 2 – Dino Gets the Point

The
JockPunishers 2: Dino gets the point(s)
Dino
was the College drug pusher. If asked, he would claim he was only
selling harmless “legal highs” but, his nasty habit of mixing the
narcotics he sold with cheap substances, to enable him to sell more,
was very dangerous. This practice had recently had near fatal
consequences on two College Sofomores, who has become very ill after
taking some of Dino’s little blue pills.
It
was not long before the JockPunishers decided it was time that Dino
experienced some of his own medicine, and perhaps they meant that
literally. At least, that is what they would want Dino to think. 
A
careful, martial arts style blow to the back of the head rendered
Dino unconscious, and he woke up in the college infirmary tired to an
examination table, with his bare bottom raised.
The
JockPunishers told Dino that they intended to test his, so called,
“legal highs” out on him, to see quite how harmless they really
were, and they would use a special supply of extra large medical
syringes to do just that!
Of
course, in reality, they would only give him doses of mild vitamin
solutions, but the terrified Dino did not know that.
Click
on the “read more” tab below to continue:
WARNING:
his story features pictures of injections

The
JockPunishers jabbed their huge syringes into Dino’s raised backside
as he yelled out in pain and genuine fear. Not knowing that he was
only receiving vitamin shots, but very aware of what he had mixed
with his drugs, he was terrified of what he thought was being
injected into him.
He
had also always been terrified of needles, and the JockPunishers had
chosen the scariest types on needles they could find, which would
just hurt just as much as Dino feared they would.
However,
when he protested, the JockPunishers laughed at him “But you claim
they are ‘harmless’!” cried Adam Murphy, the first of the three
JockPunishers “so what are you afraid of?” he jabbed his needle
into Dino’s butt making him yell out in pain.
Meanwhile,
Darren Galloway, a second JockPunisher, inserted an anal thermometer
into Dino’s rectum, and removed it a few minutes later to check his
temperature. “Hey, this guy is a bit cold!” he lied “he needs
warming up.
In
order to “warm” Dino up, two of the JockPunishers proceeded to
spank his bottom with ping-pong bats, until his butt cheeks were red
and sore.
“They
look warm enough now!” laughed Todd Singer, the third JockPunisher and proceeded to jab his needle
hard into Dino’s well spanked, and now very tender bottom.
Unluky
Dino Certainly got the point that night, he would think twice before
selling drugs to the college students again.

This
was another job well done by the JockPunishers
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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. 
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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