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The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt Part three (continued)

 
The
Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt

Part three
(2 of 2 ) – Our naughty Knight gets the bare bottom spanking he
deserves
Crispin
attempted to struggle free from the large Monk’s grip , but soon realised that beneath his
adversary’s all covering brown robe was a body of considerable
strength and steel like muscles, which even his fit young body could
not resist.
To
make matters worse, a second monk, who also proved to be a powerfully
built individual arrived and assisted the first on restraining the
helpless but struggling Crispin.
Together
they dragged the unhappy and protesting young knight over to a bench,
sat down and pulled their handsome captive over their knees.
While
the newly arrived monk, held Crispin’s legs, the senior monk pulled
up the youth’s black gown until the whole of his lower body, from his
firm, slim waist down was exposed. The monk looked down at the bottom
he had so recently, and lovingly anointed with healing oils and
chuckled “Well well my young valiant” he said “That pretty rump
of yours will soon burn worse that it did when you first arrived!”
“No
please good friar!” wailed Crispin “Please have mercy on me!”
“There
shall be no mercy or forgiveness for a sinner here!” snapped the
monk “you will be chastised as you deserve to be!” he paused “and
as penance for your pride and arrogance your punishment will be
appropriately enhanced ….. Brother Samuel, bring forth the fire
root!”
A
third monk appeared carrying a silver platter, upon with there was a
strange looking peeled vegetable root, and gingerly lifted a carrot
shaped segment between his thumb ad forefinger as he approached the
trio.
“Fire
root …?” stammered Crispin nervously
“The
fire root comes from the land of monsoons and smoking mountains to
the south, it earned it’s name because when it’s juices touch your
skin, it burns like the great lord’s hottest furnaces!” replied the
speaking monk. “as you will soon discover …!”
“Great
lord? …. furnaces?” gasped Crispin “who are you ….. what is
this order?”
“Insert
the root Brother!” said the monk, interrupting and ignoring
Crispin’s question “You will be anxious to be rid of it for it must
be burning your fingers!”

The
third monk stepped forward, and swiftly forced the segment of peeled
root he was holding between the raised cheeks of Crispin’s exposed
bottom, and up into his tight anus, which as an automatic protective
instinct, gripped tightly round it. As soon as the plug of fire root
touched his skin Crispin understood why it was so called, as a
burning sensation almost as intense as the dragon’s fiery breath
spread from the puckering pink portal lips of his rectum, to deep
with inside him. Tears brimmed in the young knights watering eyes and
he he cried out in genuine pain
The
monk’s laugh had a clear note of cruel delight to it, at the sound of
Crispin’s scream “the fire root will ensure that even your most
hidden and intimate parts will feel the force of your well deserved
punishment!”
With
that the laughing monk raised his large leathery and well calloused
hand high into the air and an d brought it down with a loud SMACK! On
Crispins, still sore and tender, recently scorched bottom. The first
smack was followed by a second, third, fourth and more, while the
second monk grasped his legs, and the third, having laid down his
silver platter joined his fellows and held Crispin’s head and scolders firmly in
place.
Crisip
had not been spanked over a knee since he he was a an infant, hence
this punishment was as humiliating to the proud young knight as it
was painful, and it was certainly extremely painful. 

 
His torment was
made worse by the fact he could not help tensing his anal muscles in
anticipation of each smack, which had the unfortunate effect of
crushing the feague of fire root gripped by the tender pink bud of
his anus and causing still more of the scalding Juice across the rim
of that most sensitive and vulnerable of orifices.

Crispin’s
burning rectum was now a ring of fire nestling between the two
stinging red orbs of his buttocks. 
 
The
monks took turns in punishing Crispin, who they had soon stripped
naked, as his cries and the repeated slapping of their hands on his
red and well fired behind.
Finally
the stopped but still held the struggling and weeping young knight
captive in their grasp. The older monk looked into Crispin’s tear
stained face, “We are not finished with you yet my young valiant!”
he grinned “You are now our prisoner and we will do with you as we
will!”
“Please!”
cried Crispin “You have punished me enough! Now set me free!!”
“Hah!”
laughed the Monk “there will be no freedom for you Sir knight, you
you will provide us with much entertainment and diversion in the
coming days and weeks!”
The
monks then dragged the miserable Crispin Cherrybutt down to the
catacombs beneath the monastery. 
 

When they reached a small door in
the wall, they opened it and pushed Crispin through sending him
tumbling bottom first down a flight of stone stairs, his well
spanked, scorched and fire root figged bottom hitting each step as he
bounced down, before landing with a THUD! On the hard dungeon floor.
As he landed he heard the door slamming behind him followed by the
sound of metal bolts slamming into place. He was now the monks’
prisoner.
As
Crispin lay on the floor his hands grasping hie well spanked and fire
root scorched behind, a sense of deep fear and desolated seeped
through him, as he wondered what entertainments and diversions the
brothers had in store for him, and what sort of devilish sect had he
stumbled upon.
Then
a voice spoke to him from the darkness “Who are you Sir Knight?”
it spoke with an unmistakably noble tone “Are you a prisoner too?
Have the Gods at last blessed me with a companion in this hellish
ordeal?”
In
mounting fear Crispin scoured inky blackness of the cell and could
just make out a dark shame in the corner. The shape moved, and he
knew he was not alone ……..
TO
BE CONTINUED
Posted on

The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt (Part 3)

The
Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt
Part three (1 of 2)
– Crispin meets the Brothers
When
he first viewed the huge building, looking out of the darkness,
Chrispin had imagined he had come across a castle, however, as he
moved closer, he realised that it more closely resembled a religious
building , although the absence of any religious symbolism seemed
initially puzzling. He approached the large and heavy wooden door,
and felt a sense of foreboding which he attempted to dismiss by
reminding himself that he was a brave knight, who had only recently
fought a dragon, his mind proud mind quickly seeking to draw a veil
over his humiliating defeat, at the hands, or more aptly, the fiery
breath of that beast.
He
knocked on the door, and heard the rattle of his own knuckles on the
ancient timber echoing in the corridors within.
After
what seemed like an age, the door was opened by a cowled monk, who
silently gestured him to enter, and then follow him down a long dark
passageway, although he was a little unnerved by the monk’s mute
demeanour, his options were somewhat limited, and, as he kept
reminding himself he was a brave knight, for whom there was nothing
to fear in the dark chambers beyond.
The
then came upon two further monks, who stepped forward to greet him.
Although like the first monk, one of these two also remained silent,
a third, who appeared to the more senior, did speak, a deep gravelly
voice growling from within his face concealing cowel. “What brings
you to our door Sir Knight?” he asked “Very few travellers come
to this lonely place.”
“I
have travelled far, Good friar!” replied Crispin “I came on a
quest to slay a dragon!”
“The
dreadful fire breathing beast, which has been terrorising the land
these last decades?” asked the gravel voiced monk
Crispin
frowned, at the mention of the dragon’s fiery breath, and nodded.
Although, he was anxious to regale the monks with tales of his daring
do, the burning main in his rump was a more pressing priority,
especially as holy men, such as these, were often in possession of
balms and ointments, which might relieve his discomfort. “Sadly I
have suffered an injury.” he said “And I hope you could be of
assistance!”
Despite
his embarrassment at the location of his “injury” he turned and
showed his scorched bottom to the monks. The two, previously silent
Monks, murmured sympathetically, whilst the friar with the deep voice
first sucked air through his teeth before saying gently “My my, Sir
Knight, that must be giving you some distress, but fear not, we have
many remedies for burns and scalds sch as those, we will have that
handsome young rump of yours back to it’s painless white purity in no
time!”
Crispin
sighed with relief, that was the good news he was hoping for. “I
will be forever grateful to you good friars, if you can ease my
pain!” he said.
The
monks lead him into an inner chamber with a very elaborate but
somewhat Byzantine looking altar and a number of disturbing wall
paintings. Chrispin again, briefly pondered the lack of familiar
religious symbolism, but concluded that the gentle brothers must
belong to a sect with which he was not acquainted.
The
monks, assisted the young knight in removing his heavy armour, and
when he was naked asked him to lay, on is stomach, on a high table in
front of the strange altar.
The
speaking monk, looked down at Crispin’s rosy upturned bottom, and, as
if unable to resist temptation, raised his hand and gave Crispin’s
sore bottom a gentle slap. “That does look sore Sir Knight!” he
said
“OWCH!”
snapped Crispin, looking angrily over hios shoulder.
“I
do apologise Sir Knight!” came the reply, Crispin could not see the
monk’s face, but an intuition told him that deep under the folds of
his hood, the man was grinning.
That
fleeting thought vanished, as a second monk appeared carrying as
container of musk scented oil, and allowed a few drops to fall onto
Crispin’s bottom. The gravel voiced monk then proceeded to massage
the oil into the red and scorched skin. At first Crispin gasped at
the pain caused by the older man’s hands on his tender skin. 

 Then
slowly, as the monk continued to rub the oil into his flesh, he could
feel the burning sensation gradually fading. He realised that the
pain he had been living with for many hours was fading.
“What
is that wondrous balm?” he asked, the relief palpable in his voice
“This
oil is much prized for its mystical healing qualities and and
efficacy as a pain reliever Brother Samuel brought it back from his
travels in the northern lands, where it is greatly valued.” replied
the friar as he continued to almost lovingly massage the oil into
Crispin.
Later
that evening, one of the silent monks, ushered Crispin to a small bed
chamber off one of the passage way, where first he fed him with newly
baked bread, washed down with a flask of blood red wine. 
Then the
monk bathed the handsome young knight gently washing away the dust
and sweat from his long arduous journey and the residue of the oil
left from the earlier treatment.
Although
Crispin was not inclined to enjoy the touch of another mail, he
tolerated it for the relief it brought. When the Monk gently washed
his behind, it was not the agony it would have been an hour before.
The young knight’s bottom still stung and tingled, but it was no
longer the searing pain the dragon had left him with.
Finally,
the kindly monk, anointed the young Knight’s body with cologne, and
gently dressed him in the clean black robes of a postulate, before
bowing out and leaving him to sleep in the newly prepared bed.
However,
sleep was the last thing that Crispin intended to do. As he had bed
led through the passage ways earlier, Crispin had chanced to glance
into a number of the chambers as they had passed, and he had seen the
monastery’s glistening treasure. Golden bowls and ceremonial
goblets, gold and silver candle holders and incense burner’s
encrusted with gem stones.
Such
items would bring him wealth if sold, or melted down upon his return
to his home town, and that was exactly what Crispin planned. He might
not retun with the fame of a dragon killer but he would have the
compensation of being a rich man.
The
generous monks might have taken him in, treated his wounds, fed,
washed and clothed him, and given him a bed for the knight. However,
he felt no sense of gratitude to them, they owned the treasure he
lusted for, and he intended take it from them.
The
monk had spoken of the brothers travelling to far away lands, so, he
concluded, the monastery must have a stable, from which he could
steal a horse and escape with his booty, before the monks knew it had
gone.
In
the middle of the night Crispin slipped out of the tiny bedchamber
where the gentle monk had left him, and crept through the dark
passage way, carrying a sack he had fashioned from his blanket. He
did not have to search for long before he reached a room he had spied
earlier, and could the precious items glimmering in a beam of
moonlight shining through a small window.
The
young knight hurried about his work, grabbing at the gold items laid
out on a large wooden altar, and stuffing them into his rudimentary
sack. 

One particular item was a large golden goblet, which he held
up in the moonlight to get a better view. It was a magnificent object
of pure gold, with the stem encrusted with precious gem stones, which
had been lovingly crafted by some artisan goldsmith possessed of
incredible talent.
However
the greedy young knight did not see the beauty or artistry in the
object he held, he only saw it’s monetary value, and the wealth it
would bring to him when the gold was melted down and the glittering
stones sold on for jewellery.
“My
My, You are a naughty young rascal are you not Sir knight!” a
familiar deep voice boomed from the darkness behind him. Crispin was
briefly frozen by shock, he dropped the goblet, as a muscular,
sackcloth covered arm encircled his waist, and a large calloused hand
gripped the black cotton of his gown lifting it up to reveal the
knight’s long bare legs and, still pink, and tender buttocks. 

Then
before Chrispin could react the monk’s free hand descended with
considerable force onto that same vulnerable bottom, causing our
flawed but handsome hero to cry out in pain.
“Now
we will show you what happens to naughty young knights who try to rob
the poor!” boomed the angry friar, with a tone in his voice which
made very clear, Crispin would not enjoy what happened next.
TO
BE CONTINUED
More
of Singeing Crispin Cherrybutt will be posted tomorrow
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The New Gizmo

The New Gizmo
Another
Spanking machine idea
If
anyone feels inspired to suggest a caption, or even a storyline to
accompany this picture, please add it to the “Comment’s” section
below ..
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Notice to visitors

It
is an unfortunate fact that our society appears to be entering an age
where, despite the popular narrative, puritanism and calls for
censorship are again on the rise. We are seeing an increasing
resistance to both Free Speech and free expression, which will not
only impact on people who say and do things we don’t like, but also
on those things which we want to say and do, which other people do
not like.
There
is a growing belief within society that anything which might give
offence must be eliminated, even when it is hidden behind content
warnings.
In
such an environment, sites like this, which cater to tastes which a
lot of people might find offensive are increasingly at risk. It is
beginning to appear that the most imminent threat is fading, however,
realistically, the threat will never go away.
In
the circumstance I am actively exploring alternative locations which
may be less vulnerable to the pressure for censorship than Blogger,
however, in the meantime, I intend to carry on as normal, and hope to
make a further posting at the weekend.
That
said, in case the worst does come to pass, would readers please
bookmark the address of the new JockSpank site at
http://jock-spank.com/ where you
can find information about Sore Bottomed Guys should this blog
suddenly disappear.
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Important Notice

Please note that as a part of the harrassment campaign against the JockSpank blog, this Blog has also now been reported to Blogger for a possible terms of use violation.
Should anything happen to this blog and an announcement will be made at  
http://jock-spank.com/

For further information, please see the posting on the JockSpank blog here: https://jockspank.blogspot.com/2019/03/this-blog.html

NOTE

The harrassment and threats are continuing, the latest threat against the blog was received August 1st 2019 

Update
A further implied threat of “Revenge” can be seen in the Comments beneath the posting on August 18 2019

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The Shaman’s Revenge – Part 11

Bobby
O’Rourke was doing his daily training, as a conscientious youth he
trained for at least two hours every day, whatever the weather.
Coach had told him that if he continued training he could be entered
for the state championships, after which the possibilities were
endless for a dedicated and ambitious young athlete like Bobby.
Bobby was determined to succeed, to represent his state and maybe
even his country, and make his family proud in the process.
Bobby’s
family were already proud of him, for it was not only at athletics
that he excelled, he had studied hard in class and had earned a
scholarship to the college, where hw was proving himself to be a star
pupil in many ways. It was widely believed that Bobby had a bight
future ahead of him.
Bobby
has already run for over ten miles when he reached a road junction
leading to Main Street. It was there that he noticed old Mrs Rush
with her walking cane, nervously hovering on the edge of the street,
apparently awaiting an opportunity to cross. 
 Bobby knew the elderly
lady, who was an acquaintance of his grandmother’s, had poor eyesight
so he rushed to her side, and after taking care not to alarm her, he
reassuringly took hold of her arm and kindly assisted her crossing,
whilst at the same time signalling to oncoming traffic to be patient
whilst Mrs Rush made her unsteady crossing.
Once
they were safely on the other side of the road, Bobby waved away the
old lady’s words of gratitude, wished her good day and continued on
his way .
It
was safe to say that, in Bobby O’Rourke you could not wish to find a
nineteen year old athlete who was less like Jordan Draper, except,
of course, in one regard, Like Jordan, Bobby was a very handsome
young man. (He would not have earned his place in Sore Bottomed Guys
were he not)
Remembering
he had to study for an examination, Bobby turned off the street and
cut through an alleyway behind some apartment buildings just in time
to hear the distant sound of breaking glass.
As
he ran down the alleyway, Bobby noticed two young boys running
towards him. He look little notice of them, until, as they passed
him, one of the boys tossed the soccer ball he was carrying towards
him and called out as he ran past “Here buddy!” he said “Look
after this”.
Taken
by surprise, Bobby instinctively caught the ball as it flew towards.
Bemused, he stopped running, and still holding the ball, turned to
watch the boys disappearing into the distance.
It
was then that a loud voice with a distinct East European accent rang
out behind him “I haff warmed you brats one hundred times not to
play your silly football games here!”
 
Bobby
turned to see an elderly gentleman with a bright red face glowering
at him furiously. “I beg your pardon Sir ….?!” he said
“You
haff not my pardon you damn American vandal!” roared the old
man “You haff broke my window with your silly ball ……I haff
warned you what would happen” the elderly man was shaking with
fury as he spoke “You vill pay for this brat! And you vill not
like it!”
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“Excuse
me Sir!” replied Bobby trying as hard as he could to calm the old
man. “You are mistaken, I did not break any windows, I have only
just arrived…..!”
“Do
not lie to me you vandal!” the old man snarled “You think
I am a stupid old man, your guilt is before my eyes, you are holding
the silly ball in your hands! How dare you lie to me, you vil pay
twice …. ten fold, you vill pay for that!!”
Bobby
looked down and saw that he was still holding the ball which the
young boy had tossed to him “b…but …I..” he stammered
attempting to explain
“GO!!”
exploded the elderly and furious man “Get out of here, or you
will pay even more dearly!”
Trained
to obey his elders and anxious not to upset the elderly gentleman,
who appeared close to a seizure, even more than he already was, Bobby
did as he was told, he put down the ball and looked at the old man
“Goodbye Sir!” he said “I hope you get your window fix….!”
“GO!”
snarled Goran, for it was he “Get out of here are you vill pay
even more than you already vill, your little brat bottom vill pay!!”
Bobby
obeyed instantly, and ran off down the down the alley way, the old
man’s words still echoing in his head.
Bobby
was still thinking about the elderly gentleman’s threats to his
“little brat bottom” as he turned into the park, as a further
detour on his way home, until his attention was was caught by the a
plaintive meowing sound from above him. He looked up and saw a
kitten sitting on the branch of a tree he was passing. The poor
creature had obviously climbed up the tree, but was now stuck and
unable to get down.
Among
Bobby’s many admirable qualities, he was an animal lover, and it was
not in his nature to leave a helpless creature in distress.
“Don’t
worry little Buddy!!” he called “I will come and get you!”
Without
a further thought, Bobby climbed up onto the first branch which was a
few feet below the kitten and began clambering along that branch in
order to get to a place where he could reach the kitten. 
 
It
was then that he heard a loud ripping noise, he looked back over
shoulder and saw, to his immense annoyance, that his tight running
shorts had snagged on a small branch a,d the whole of the seat had
been ripped away, exposing his bare white bottom to the world.
“Fu
… Drat!” murmured Bobby stifling a cuss”how am I supposed to
get home like this?” he was the aware of an even more perplexing
problem, for some reason he could not move from the position he was
I. He could move his arms and kick his legs, but it was as if his
firm muscular young stomach was glued to the branch. This was all
very weird!
A
loud buzzing sound announced a most unwelcome arrival in the form of
a the biggest hornet Bobby had ever seem, which was heading straight
towards his exposed and upturned bottom like some form precision
guided missile. The hornet landed squarely in the centre of Bobby’s
vulnerable rump, its thin gripping legs on either side of the cleft
between the cheeks, jabbed it’s stinger into the tender and tightly
sloping flesh between the magnificent pearly white globes of his his
19 year old behind, and ejected a sting of truly agonizing strength,
sending a pure white hot bolt of pain deep into Bobby’s rear.
Bobby
let out an agonized howl of pain which echoed round the empty park
and again just managed to stifle back the worse swear word he knew.
Why on earth had a dumb insect done that? 
 
He
look back and to his mounting horror, saw a second hornet buzzing
towards their chosen target, seemingly with the same intention as its
earlier comrade. Bobby struggled frantically, but still he could not
move from the branch or escape.
“No!”
he yelled “Help me …. Please help!!”
+++
Bobby’s
cries for help, though ear piercing, were not loud enough to reach
the Draper home, but even if they had they would have been downed out
by the loud whacks and yelps of pain which were flooding out onto the
street. It the middle of the room, Me Draper was swinging his shiny
new wooden paddle, and gift he had received from his new friend and
neighbour Caleb Tartarus, the Ranger, and bringing it down with
repeated loud WHACKS! On Jordan’s now very red bottom, as his naked
son bent over in front of him.
Seated
comfortably on the sofa, was Ranger Tartarus, a grin of satisfaction
on his face. Having dragged the reluctant Jordan back from the
hospital, and informed his father of the boy’s exploits, he was sure
that Mr Draper’s new paddle would be seeing a lot of action over the
next few weeks and months.
Things
were working out just as the were supposed to.
Later
that day, Tartarus took a stroll round the Town, he was just
beginning to enjoy his visit there, and certainly did not want to
leave just yet. It had been a very long time since he he had been
called back from that deep are fiery place where had been dwelling,
to carry out the wishes of those who had summons him, and he had
almost forgotten how much fun it was.
As
he reached Capsaicin College, he made his way though a narrow gap by
the changing room, and the sight that met him served to re-enforce is
wish to stay in town.
Taylor
Hunter was another member of the swimming team, and although not as
accomplished a swimmer as Jordan, was not less physically appealing.
Another trait which the handsome Taylor share with Jordan was that
his attractive appearance did not reflect his personality, at that
was significantly less appealing. At that moment Taylor was in the
act of leaving a strikingly unfriendly, and some might say somewhat
hateful message for the team coach, Thor Amundsen.
As
it was, again, such a hot day, Taylor was wearing nothing except a
pair of skimpy yellow cotton shorts, which clung most enticingly to
to curves on the lad’s bubble cheeked bottom. Tartarus’s eyes
travelled down Taylor’s back, and rested on the seat of those thin
cotton short. His lips curled into a cruel grin. “Yes” he
murmured to himself, I think I will stay around for a while longer!” 
 .
The Shaman had conjured up dark forces to carry out his revenge, but as
others have found before him, once they are called, the powers
unleashed create ripples which have a wider impact than just on their
intended target.
The
Shaman’s Revenge is not going away.
Posted on

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Two)

Part
two: Crispin and the Kingdom of the Ants
Crispin
had managed to put as much distance as he could between himself and
the lair of that terrible fire breathing dragon which had so cruelly
flame toasted his handsome, but now very sore, young behind. However,
there was still a long way to go.
Even
by travelling day and night, there was a long arduous ride ahead for
Crispin to get back to his home town. Yet he was desperate to get
there as soon as possible, so that he could consult the apothecary,
in the hope that the wise old man could provide some cooling and
soothing cream or balm for his scorched bottom. His muscles were
tiring, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to to keep his
burning behind raised off the hard and sun ray heated leather saddle,
and he knew he could not manage to do so for much longer.
Frantic
to get home and to some relief, he angrily urged his horse to move
faster with a series of slaps, kicks and furious commands, yelled
directly into the poor beast’s ear.
They
now had to cross miles of open and parched desert, where the heat was
becoming unbearable and the heated saddle was now painful to touch
even without a singed bottom. Given the increasing discomfort,
Crispin was anxious to cross the desert and reach higher, cooler,
land as soon as possible.
“Faster,
you lazy brute!” he shouted kicking hard against the horse’s flank,
and slapping it hard on the neck “If you don’t more faster, I will
feed your carcass to the King’s hunting hounds when we get home!”
he cried.
The
young horse, had already developed a strong dislike for his cruel and
abusive young owner, long before they had embarked on the latest
journey, and it was becoming more and more irritated by the shouts
and blows which Crispin was inflicting upon it. The grumpy steed was
reluctant to move any faster in the exhausting heat, at least not
whilst carrying such an uncomfortable burden.
The
animal therefore concluded that the preferable solution would be to
eject the hated burden at the earliest opportunity. 

Crispin
was an experienced rider, but he was distracted by the burning pain
in his bottom, and was not expecting the hose to suddenly kick back
with its hind legs and violently buck it’s back, throwing it’s rider
up into the air, before galloping away, and leaving the young knight
plummeting, bottom first, towards the ground.

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As
luck would have it Crispin landed on a mound of earth which gave way
beneath his weight, cushioning his fall and causing his bottom to
slip into a dip beneath him. At first it seemed that he had
encountered his first bit of good luck that day as the crumbling
earth had softened what would otherwise have been a hard and painful
landing.
However,
then he realised that, rather than landing in a dip in the earth, his
bottom had actually broken through the roof of an ant dug chamber
beneath and he was effectively sitting in a hole in the earth. Then
it dawned on him what the structure he had landed in actually was.
To his horror he realised he had landed bare ass first into a fire
ant hill. The fire ants of that ancient land truly lived up to their
name, although tiny, their bite was ferocious and exuded a powerful
fire like venom causing a searing and throbbing pain which could last
for hours and sometimes, if you were really unlucky, for days.
Crispin
had been bitten by a fire ant once as a child, and he had no wish to
repeat the experience. He attempted to spring to his feet, but found
he could not, he was stuck with his bottom wedged into a tight hole
and thrust into an underground chamber of an ant hill.
For
a moment he hoped that perhaps the ant hill had been abandoned and
that he was in fact stuck in an empty ant hill. However, that hope
was swiftly proved wishful thinking as he felt the fist tickling
sensation of tiny insect feet on his dragon toasted skin.
He
knew what was coming before it came, and in a frantic panic he
struggled to free himself, pushing against the crumbling earth and
kicking his legs in the air. However, this merely resulted in
wedging him even more tightly into the hole which his landing had
created.
The
first ant bite was like a new sheet of flame burning his skin as if
the dragon was in the hole beneath him blowing its fiery breath
upwards at its chosen target. A second and third ant bit followed and
each had the same effect as the last one. Each fierce little insect
clamping its jaws into his his tender scorched skin and unleashing it
burning poison into the young knight’s already punished posterior.
Crispin’s
piercing screams of agony rang round the empty desert, but as his
mount had already vanished at full gallop over the horizon, their was
no sentient creature, save ants to hear them.
 
Finally,
after what seemed like an age, the brittle earth began to give way,
and by straining his every youthful muscle, was able to free himself.
He jumped up, and ran through the desert, the sun baked sand burning
the soles of his bare feet as he went. However, that pain was as
nothing next to the burning fire in his dragon scorched and ant
bitten bottom, which, for Chrispin was now at the very centre of a
world of pain.
The
fire in his rump had hardly eased at allwhen, many hours of painful
walking later, and as night began to fall, he reached the edge of the
desert.
He
trudge for another mile or so, and then realised he was totally lost,
unsure if he was even heading in the right direction. As the fear he
would never find his way home began to grip him, be became aware of a
light in the distance. 
 He walked towards that light, and as he
rounded a small hill he could see the silhouette of a large building,
standing out against the night sky. From the burning torch outside
the large wooden door, it was clear the building was occupied …
with humans. People who might be able to help him, people who may
have ointments, oils and balms which could extinguish the fire in his
behind.
As
he limped towards the building, his spirits began to lift in the hope
that he had found sanctuary and that his nightmare was finally over.
TO
BE CONTINUED
Posted on

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part One)

The
Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt
 

Part
one: Our Hero’s Buns get Toasted
  
In
a time long ago, and in a land far away, there lived a handsome young
Knight. Fair of face and blessed with a fit and lithe young body, he
was, at first sight, everything a romantic novelist, or a teller of
noble tails would dream of. However, he may have possessed physical
beauty, but that was were his fairy fairy tail qualities ended. In
addition to dashing good looks, a Romantic Hero must have other many
virtues, such as nobility, integrity, honour, chivalry and kindness,
in all these areas, the young Knight was sorely lacking.
In
his own mind however, he was near perfect, all that was needed he
believed, was for others to know it too.
Not
only was Crispin Cherrybutt the handsomest knight in the land, he was
determined to prove himself to be the bravest, and he would do so by
slaying the fearsome dragon which had been terrorising the local
countryside.
Many
brave nights had tried before him without success, but arrogant young
Crispin was convinced that he would be the one to succeed where
others had failed. It was with this pride and the conviction of his
own superiority, that he had set out on his quest.
It
had been a long journey to reach the Dragon’s layer, but it would be
worth it, as he stood outside the entrance to the cave where the
terrible creature had made its nest, he paused to contemplate the
tributes and honours he would receive when he returned with the
dragon’s head on the end of a pike. He was also sure he would
receive a fortune in gold from the king and, in addition he it would
be his right to deflower all the loveliest maidens in the kingdom.
Other
knights had travelled to this same destination seeking honour and
also to rid the land of a terrible menace. However, such altruistic
considerations did not occur to Chrispin, he thought only of the
wealth, acclaim and sexual pleasuring which success would bring him.
Yes,
he thought, he would be a hero when he returned with such a trophy.
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However,
the wily old dragon had other plans for the proud young Knight,
rather than returning as a triumphant hero, once the beast had
finished with him he would slink home as a defeated boy, with a very
sore bottom.
As
soon as young Chrispin set foot in the Dragon, cave, the bravado,
which had powered his quest deserted him, and was replaced by
nervousness and by his inflated sense of self preservation. He
attempted to steel his courage by thinking of the wealth slaying the
beast would bring him, and all the eager wenches who would surrender
their virtue to him. However, try as he might, those prospects no
longer seemed quite so attractive when they depended upon confronting
a dragon. 
 

A
shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the tales he had heard of
dragons, who, it was said, not only ate young knights like him, but
cooked them alive first with their fiery breath. Beads of sweat
appeared on his forehead as he struggled to dismiss his fear. He
resolved that to explore just the first chamber of the cavern, and,
if he did not find the dragon there, he would leave and go home.
Crispin’s
nerves would be in an even worse state, and his decision to search
only the outer chamber appear even less shrewd, if he had looked
behind him-and seen the large scaly shape lurking in the shadows and
observing his every move.
The
elderly dragon had been aware of the handsome young knight’s arrival
since he had first ridden up to the entrance of the cave. He knew
what Crispin’s intentions were, as he was not the first to try,
however from long experience the dragon was adept at dispatching such
nuisances.
However,
the dragon was in an uncharacteristically amiable mood, he had
feasted well on a bullock he had taken from local farm, and did not
have any desire to eat man flesh at that time. However, he was
resolved to teach the young upstart a lesson he would not forget,
and, being a dragon, he was well equipped to do so!
Silently,
despite his size, the creature follwed the young knight as he
nervously ventured further into the cave, awaiting the opportune
moment to strike.
Moments
later, young Crispin Cherrybutt presented the waiting dragon with the
perfect opportunity, when he bent forward tp peer into one of the
smaller inner chambers of the cavern.
In
that far away land, following the examples set by those such as the
Greeks and the Spartans, the young warrior were all but naked beneath
their armour.

 Thus it was that the sight of Chrispin’s perfect,
shapely and hairless bare bottom thrust towards him, like a cannibal
banquet, as he bent, was a dizzyingly tempting target which no self
respecting dragon could resist.
The
old dragon did not resist temptation for one moment, and ceasing the
opportunity to teach the impertinent intruder the lesson he so dearly
deserved, he breathed in, and the opening his vast jaws in a blood
curdling roar, exhaled a stream of flame aimed directly at the
exposed seat of the arrogant young nuisance in front of him. Striking
right on the tight divide in the middle, and spreading across each
bare cheek. 

As
the flames hit his tender skin, Crispin let out an ear-splitting
shriek of agony, and leaped three feet into the aim clutching at his
toasted buns. The pain was like something he had never experience
before, and he instantly knew, without looking round what had caused
it.
He
spun round and saw what he had known would be there, and it was even
more fearsome than he could have imagined. The dragon stared back at
him, and its jaws twisted into what Crispin was convinced was a cruel
and sardonic grin of satisfaction.
Crispin
did not waste a moment, and with the terror enhancing his already
outstanding agility, he dodged past the dragon, and ran full pelt out
of the cave still clutching his dragon’s breath seared bottom.
The
dragon let out a second roar and shot out another fiery stream of
flame, which despite Crispin’s swift and greyhound attempt to avoid
it, succeeded in singeing Crispin’s fingers and the tops of the
insides of his thighs.
With
the speed of the athlete he was, Crispin ran out of the cave and over
to where he had tethered his steed.
The
dragon did not follow, he was too full of fattened bullock to run
after a healthy young buck, and anyway his intention had only been to
scare the impudent boy away, and leave hima token to remember him by.
Crispin
would certainly never forget the dragon and his well singed bottom
would keep the memory fresh for days to come. He had a two and a half
day ride home ahead on him, and he would feel every bump.
As
the tears of pain and humiliation rand down Crispin’s still
devastatingly handsome face and he strained every muscle in an
impossible attempt to keep his sore and well scorched bottom from
contacting with with the hard and sun heated saddle, he could not
have known that his painful adventures had only just begun.
_______________________
Notes:
i) Part one was inspired by regular reader Sammie.
ii)
This story is by way of an intermission, “The Shaman’s Revenge will
continue soon.
.
 
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge Part 10

The
Shaman’s Revenge Part 10
Jordan
lay on the cold basement floor, very miserable, very sore and unable
to get up or escape from the discovery he knew was coming. Within
moments discovery arrived.
“What
on ….?” a boomed voice echoed round the basement and briefly
distracted Jordan from his torment, he looked up and saw the ranger
entering the room, and knew instantly that his bad day was going to
get a lot worse. 
 
The
ranger, bare foot and bare chested, strode across the room and stood
looking down at Jordan with an expression of poorly concealed
amusement on his face “What are you doing boy? … how did you get
in here?” … he looked across to the open skylight window “Did
you break in?”
“I…
I .. “ stammered Jordan, keenly aware there was nothing he could
say which would not make his predicament worse.
“Do
I arrest you? …” mused the ranger with feigned seriousness “or
should I have a word with your Dad …?”
“Please
Officer … Sir … I can explain!” moaned Jordan, his mind
struggling for an explanation as to why he was lying naked on the
floor or the ranger’s basement which would both not incriminate him
or appear totally fanciful!
“Get
up off the floor!” ordered Officer Tartarus
“I
can’t!” wailed Jordan
“What
do mean you “can’t”?” snapped the Ranger
“I
…I … I just can’t!” relied the miserable Jordan
“Not
be stupid boy …get up!…. on your feet boy!!”
“I
can’t …. I’ve got a ……. a ……. bottle brush up my ass!”
moaned Jordan.
“W…What?”
shouted the Ranger, pretending he had no idea what had befallen
Jordan “Let me look?” he stepped forward and tool a close look at
Jordan’s bottom “By damn! You have!!” he frowned at Jordan “What
have you been doing boy?”
“Nothing!”
protested Jordan “It just flew up there!!!” As the words left his
mouth he knew nobody would believe them so he corrected himself “I
.. er … sat on it!!” at least that sounded slightly more
believable.
The
ranger raised a sceptical eyebrow “If you you .. uh .. say so kid!”
he folded his arms “You sure you ain’t been … experimenting …
like boys do!”
“No
I ‘ain’t … haven’t been experimenting … I am not a pervert!”
“Oh
yes??? …..Says the naked guy with a bottle brush up his ass!”
chortled the Ranger “why is it stopping you from standing up?”
“I
think it must be pressing on a nerve. When I try to stand up it jabs
into me!”
“Hmmm
… are you sure you are not just being a wimp because it feels
bad?…. try getting on your hands and knees.”
With
considerable difficulty Jordan managed to clamber on to his knees,
making grunts of discomfort every time the prickly plastic brush
jabbed his tight little passage.
“Now
try crawling across the floor!” 
 
In
increasing discomfort Jordan attempted to crawl as instructed,
letting out increasingly shrill squeaks of pain as he did so.

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The
ranger roared with laughter as he watched Jordan’s perfect, but much
punished bottom sway from side to side with the wire handle of the
brush protruding from between his cheeks. As if unable to resist, he
lent forward and flicked the handle with his forefinger, causing it
to vibrate inside Jordan’s rectum.
“YEEEOOWW!”
screamed Jordan as the a tingling and prickling sensation surged
through his body, feeling as if all the nerve ends in his bottom had
received an electric shock. “Don’t do that!!”
“Can
you squat?” asked Officer Tartarus
“You might find that easier!”
“Squat?”
“Yeah,
like doing squat thrusts in the gym!” replied the ranger “Here
let me help you!” He stepped forward, grabbed Jordan under the
armpits and pulled him up as the unhappy boy howled in discomfort.
Once
in a squatting position, Jordan realised the Ranger had been right
and that this position was a bit easier to bear, albeit it was still
very uncomfortable.
“That’s
better!” said the ranger “Now we need to get you to the hospital,
so they can remove that thing!”
“Are
you going to call an ambulance?” asked Jordan, cringing at the
thought of paramedics seeing him with a bottle brush up his behind
“Couldn’t a doctor come here instead?”
“No,
there is no need to waste valuable medical resources and time
ferrying a fit athlete a few hundred yards” snapped Officer
Tartarus “The hospital is just down the street!”
“b….but
how am I going to get there, I can’t walk!”
“You
can waddle!”
“I
can’t waddle!” snapped Jordan in horror
“Of
course you can, you’re a fit, athletic guy, it should be no problem,
….. and I am certainly not going carry you!”
“But
it’s miles to the hospital!”
“Garbage,
its a mile and half at most, it’s just a brisk walk ….. waddle ..
and we’ll be there in no time!”
Despairing
at the prospect of waddling a mile and a half with a bottle brush in
his backside, Jordan looked around the room as if seeking a means of
escape. Then he noticed something was missing …
“Where
are my clothes? … they were over there? …”
The
Ranger looked around casually and shrugged “I can’t see no clothes
boy!”
“I
need my clothes… they can’t have disappeared ..”
“You
dumb boys” laughed the Ranger “always losing something!” he
turned back to Jordan “I guess you’re just gonna’ have to go in
your birthday suit!!” with that he grabbed Jordan round the waist,
threw him over his shoulder and walked swiftly up the steps out of
the basement.
It
was, in fact almost two miles to the local hospital, and every yard
was a nightmare for Jordan as each waddled step caused the prickly
brush to jab into his sensitive anus and various internal nerves
sending tingling shock waves from his bottom through the rest of his
body. Although the bristles were only plastic, and were actually not
tearing flesh, he felt as if they were. Therefore, each wobbling step
was accompanied with a gasp or an angry yell of discomfort.
“Don’t
be such a baby Jordan!” laughed the Ranger, who was walking slowly
along beside the unfortunate young swimmer, and unable to fully hide
the pleasure he was taking from Jordan’s discomfort.
Jordan’s
discomfort was to increase and be combined with shame and
embarrassment as they got closer to the hospital where there were a
number of people walking in and out, all of whom stooped to stare,
point and laugh at the naked young man waddling down the street, like
a large pink and particularly handsome duck! He prayed that none of
them spotted the wire bottle brush handle sticking out of his naked
rectum.
Unfortunately
for Jordan, as soon as they reached the hospital, Officer Tartarus
wasted no time in making sure that everyone in earshot knew all about
the bottle brush. “We need some help here!” he bellowed
loudly “Jordan Draper here has gone and got a bottle brush stuck
right up his backside!” His voice grew louder “Don’t know
how he’s done it mind, but idiot boys do do the dumbest things!!”
“Not
so loud, please they will all hear!!” pleaded the humiliated young
athlete.
However,
the Ranger ignored Jordan’s pleas “He claims he weren’t
experimenting or anything!” he continued “but, ya’ know, how does
a dude get a prickly brush stuck deep up his lil’ white boy tush,
without doing something a bit weird?! ….. I’m Just saying!!”
The
woman at the reception desk, who Jordan, to his horror recognised as
a friend of his Mom’s, almost fell off her chair in an attempt to
stifle her laughter as she blurted out “I will page a Doctor
immediately Sir!” before hiding her mouth with her hand.
Moments
later, as if Jordan’s horrible day could not get any worse, a
familiar white gowned figure arrived on the scene, it was Dr Schultz,
the college doctor, who was filling in filling in for a colleague at
the hospital.
“Ah
Caleb … Officer Tartarus!” he said “I see young Jordan had got
himself into yet another pickle!”
“Hi
Doc!” laughed the Ranger, “he’s got himself skewered more like,
the dumb jock has stuffed a prickly bottle brush up his fanny!”
“I
didn’t stuff it up ….there!” protested Jordan
“How
did it get there then son?” asked the Doctor in a marginally
mocking tone.
“it
jut got there .. okay?!” snapped Jordan “Now just get the fucking
thing out!!”
“Mind
your tongue brat!” ordered the Ranger “That’s another thing I
need to talk to your Dad about later!!”
Jordan
did not have time to think about what the Ranger might tell his dad
as the loud shouting had attracted quite a crowd of observers, who
now mingled around the entrance lobby, laughing and pointing at the
metal handle protruding from between his butt cheeks. Worrying about
his Dad’s reaction would come later, all he cared about now was
getting the brush removed and finding somewhere to hide.
“Come
with me!” said the doctor, leading, the still waddling, Jordan to a
side room, followed by the Ranger, who, when passing the door, wedged
it open, enabling the assembled crowd to see in.
The
two strong older men easily lifted the young swimmer onto the raised
hospital bed and laid on his back with his legs in the air. 
 
While
the assembled cowed watched in chuckling fascination, the doctor set
to work trying to pull the brush out of Jordan’s rectum, as as the
unhappy jock squeaked and whimpered in discomfort and acute
embarrassment.
However,
despite repeated orders to relax, Jordan was so stressed and tense
that his sphincter muscles had involuntarily contracted so tightly
around the the brush it refused to budge.
“I
can’t move it!” complained the doctor, “The boy’s rectum is
gripping it like a vice!”
“Here
let me try!” said the ranger stepping forward and taking hold of
the end of the brush “I have a knack for these things!” So
focused was the doctor and others in Jordan’s humiliation that nobody
thought to inquire as to how Officer Tartarus had developed a “knack”
at extracting bottle bristles from the anuses of 19 year old male
athletes!.
Tartarus’s
technique was somewhat different to the doctor, and significantly
more uncomfortable for Jordan, first he started jiggling the wire
handle from side to side, and then he began to push and pull at the
brush, in an ‘in an out’ movement. Jordan could only gasp in horror
at the sensation this caused to him and as that sensation
intensified, Jordan was suddenly hit by the stark, cold reality that
his new neighbour the ranger was literally fucking him with a bottle
brush!
He
looked into the rangers eyes, and could see immediately that the man
knew exactly what he was doing, and that he was enjoying doing in.
However, as he stared, momentarily transfixed, by the intense
blackness of the man’s eyes, he sensed something else, something
deeper, darker, totally terrifying and not entirely human.
He
jerked back in horror, and spasm caused by the sudden movement
released the brush from the earlier grip, enabling the ranger to
remove it.
“Got
it!” said the Ranger holding up the, now somewhat crushed and
mangled brush!”
“Well
done!” said the doctor, “it is a good thing it was just plastic,
and not wire, otherwise it could have done internal damage, as it is
he will just be tender for a few days!
“Young
guys heal real quick!” laughed the ranger “that’s why you have to
keep spanking the young varmits!”
“however,
we had better make sure there is no infection!” mused the doctor,
he turned to a male nurse who had been standing watching the
entertainment. “The patient will need a double inoculation, please
prepare two syringes!”
The
Word “Syringes” shocked Jordan away from focusing on the unknown
horror he had seen in the Ranger’s eyes to the very real and
immediate terror of an injection.
“NOO!!”
Yelled Jordan “You are not jabbing me again!!”
“It’s
for your own good!” growled Tartarus as he stepped forward, grabbed
hold of Jordan, and flipped him over onto his front, with such ease
that it was as it the boys was weightless. “there you go Doc!” he
looked down at Jordan’s, now upturned, bottom “there’s your target
… and ain’t it a perty one!!” he laughted as he held the the
struggling and protesting Jordan 
 
The
doctor picked up one syringe, as the nurse filled a second one. “This
is a new antiseptic serum!” he said “It is very effective, but
there is one side effect, it will make your bottom very sensitive for
a couple of day … so I recommend you avoid horse back riding!”
“Don’t
worry Doc!” laughed the Ranger “I somehow doubt he’s gonna’ want
to go horseback riding for quite some time!!”
“No
please don’t!!” yelled Jordan “Give me a pill instead ….”
However,
before the words had left Jordan’s mouth., the doctor had Jabbed the
needle hard into his right butt cheek, followed seconds later by the
nurse who jabbed his the second needle into the left cheek!!!
“AAAAAAAAAAOOOOOWWW!
…. “YEEEAAAAAOOOCH!” Jordan’s yell echoed around the hospital
as now further pain was inflicted on his already very sore and tender
bottom.
The
ranger bent down and whispered quietly into Jordan’s ear, his hot
breath tickling the boys neck as he did so “You really have had a
bad day haven’t you kid? …….. it would be a real shame if it got
worse!!”
To Be Continued!!