Tag: ant bite

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The Shaman’s Revenge Chapter 22 (Part 2)

The Shaman’s Revenge Chapter 22 (Part 2)

Jordan and the Speedos from Hell continued

The pool was entirely empty when Jordan dived in and swam a full length under water. For the first time in weeks, Jordan felt a sense of freedom and relief as his skimmed through the cool deep water, wuith the sleekness and agility of a fit young otter. Swimming was the one thing in the world at which he was the most accomplished, and if had had the determination and self discipline to overcome his naturally lazy and self indulgent nature, he could potentially have been a world class athlete.

However, the inevitable of Jordan Draper’s life was that the flaws in his character would forever outweigh his virtues, and, consequentially, he would never achieve his natural potential.

As observers, therefore, we must content ourselves with appreciating his physical beauty and enjoying his ongoing and well deserved discomforts and humiliations.

However, at that moment, Jordan was free from the myriad discomforts which had recently plagued his life. The Ranger, his new guardian, had agreed he could have a morning free from chores and had dropped him off at the old swimming pool at the edge of town “You can relax today” he had said “Tomorrow you have an important role to play at the local charity fair!”

Jordan had no idea what was planned for the fair, but hoped he would at least be allowed to wear clothes. Meanwhile today, it was just a relief to have some cover albeit only his tiny blue speedos.

For a short while he was free of the sense of dread of what might befall him next, which hay have been a kindness, given what was in store for him.

After completing a dozen laps of the pool, Jordan climbed out and made his way along the side of the pool planning to get himself a coke from the vending machine he had noticed by the entrance. He was then he realised he was no longer alone, when he spotted three figures in swimming trunks walking towards him.

At first he did not recognise them, but they certainly recognized him “Hi Jordan!” sniggered Dewey Rees a small built guy in baggy red swimming shorts “Aren’t you supposed to be bare assed? I head you burnt your asshole!”

Jordan glowered at Dewey, furious at this further evidence that the news of his humiliating situation was spreading like wild fire. “Shut up, if you want to keep your teeth!” he snarled.

“Don’t threaten my brother!” boomed a second, much larger guy in an angry voice

“He always threatens smaller kids!” chimed in the third guy, Sammy Mason, who was also smaller than average “He’s Jordan Draper, the bully we told you about!”

Dewey grinned at Jordan. “This is my BIG brother Bruno!” He’s really pleased to meet you!”

Until too late Jordan had not noticed how large and muscular Bruno was, otherwise he might have been more cautious, but before he could react Dewey’s big brother had grabbed him and thrown him over his shoulder. “We are going to have some fun with you!” he growled

The swimming pool was next to a derelict building, which had once been a sports centre, where Bruno carried the struggling and protesting Jordan, followed by a broadly grinning Dewey and Sammy.

Once inside what had once been the old locker room of the centre, Bruno tied Jordan’s wrists to an exposed beam, forcing him to stand on Tip toe. Meanwhile Dewey produced a role of duct tape, which he used to bing Jordan’s long athletic legs together.

When Jordan objected, a further strip of tape was placed over his mouth, effectively silencing him.

“Heuy Jordan” grinned Dewey “Remember those games you used to play with us kids? .. and the ….. um … tricks? Well lets see how you like them when we play them on you.”

“Remember that itching powder you put in the kids clothes while they were in the shower?” he continued “Well we’ve got a different brand … this one is extra strong itching powder” he held up a small bag while tossing a similar bag of white powder to Sammy.

“It says ‘Worse that a cartload of fleas’ on the packet!” giggled Sammy

“Well you are about to find out if that is true!” sneered Dewey as he pulled at the waist band of Jordan’s speedos creating a gap at the back enabling him to sprinkle the contents of the itching powder package over the cheeks of Jordan’s exposed backside, ensuring at least half the powder went down the tight crack between the cheeks.

Meanwhile, Sammy did the same to the front of the speedos, tipping the contents of his bag over Jordan’s cock and balls.

It took a moment for the powder to take effect, and then, suddenly, Jordan became aware of the most extreme and infuriating itching sensation he had ever experienced. He struggled and writhed in extreme discomfort, desperate to pull off his speedos and try to brush the vile substance off himself, but could do nothing as his hands were tied to the beam above his head.

Sammy attempted to maintain a straight face, however Dewey laughed so hard he almost made himself sick. He and his friends had endured years of bullying and hazing by Jordan Draper, so he was enjoying every second of his tormentor’s suffering.

Meanwhile a grinning Bruno ambled to the cornor and picked up a large glass jar “I guess that powder must be irritating you a mite Guy?” he drawled “But don’t worry, my little friends here will eat it all!”

He held up the jar, which Jordan, to his horror saw was full of ants!

“Remember that spider you put down Becky Rutter’s shirt?! Sniggered Dewey, “well we couldn’t find a spider, but the ants will be a good substitute!… they are fire ants, so if they nip you, it might sting a little!”

.”… or Sting a lot!” corrected Sammy.

It suddenly occurred to Jordan that the itching powder and ants must have been bought there specially for him, this was no chance encounter, they had known in advance that he would be at the pool. So someone, either the Ranger or Harley must have been in on the plan.

Jordan did not have time to think any more about the set up as he other things to concentrate on, around forty very small but very ferocious things, as Bruno stepped forward, tugged at the waist band of his blue speedos, and tipped the angry contents of the jar into the gap, shaking the jar firmly to ensure every ant fell in, before allowing the tight lycra to snap back into place with all the ants trapped between it and the tender still wildly itching surface of Jordan’s bottom.

Unlike the itching powder, the ants took no time in making their presence known. They may be trapped and lagely immobile , but the one part they could move were their sharp jaws with which they ferociously attacked every inch of Jordan’s poor bottom.

A large number of the fire ants had slipped between his cheeks and they set about biting that intimate and sensitive area, even his rosebud like anus was not spared.

The fire ants certainly lived up to their name, and within seconds, Jordan felt as if his entire bottom was literally on fire.

Jordan’s three assailants stood back, laughing with delight as Jordan hopped up and down, writing in agony and the rapacious insect assault on his nether regions his silent screams muffled by the duct tape covering his mouth.

It was then that all three of Jordan’s new tormentor’s produced a selection of old wooden paddles, both fraternity paddles with greek letters or old fashioned domestic paddles with quaint phrases on them.

“We will kill those nasty biting ants for you!” laughed Bruno “Isn’t that good of us?!”

Within moments, the sound of three wooden paddles whacking against ther seat of Jordan’s speedoes echoed round the abandoned building and continued for quite some time.

Jordan’s previous were certainly relishing their revenge.

Some hours later, after Jordan had not returned at the time he had been instructed to, the Ranger and Jordan’s hated cousin Harley went to the pool looking for him. When they found he was not, the Ranger suggested they should check the abandoned sports centre next door, and that is where they found a very sore and unhappy Jordan.

Still tied up and duct tape gagged, he had been hing fron the ceiling by his blue speedos, in an uncomfortable and embarrassing wedgie. Adding to his humiliation a white surrender flag protruded from between his two now red and bad badly bruised and bitten butt cheeks, having been inserted deep into his ant bitten anus.

Jordan Draper was one bully who had certainly met his comeuppance!

To be continued..

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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
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The Shaman’s Revenge Part 7 (part 1)

The
Shaman’s Revenge Part 7 (part 1)
Goran
could not forget about the kitten that Jordan had kicked, the more he
thought about the thoughtless cruelty that nasty boy had inflicted on
a trusting little animal the more and more angry he became.
As
the old warlock’s anger grew his spell grew stronger, and his
incantations, which still echoed in the dark recesses and forgotten
places, began to travel further to even deeper and far darker places
where it was heard by things, the likes of which would make the
bravest of men tremble.
It
was now the turn of one such thing to answer his call, a creature
which had slumbered for many centuries began to stir. Gradually as
the thing awoke it began to change its form transitioning bit by bit
from something beast like into the recognisable form of a man.
At
last, the shape shifting complete, the creature which had become a
man stepped forward from the shadows, it’s manly body now illuminated
by the flames of the fiery cavern where it had slept. As it did so,
a sardonic smile settled on its now passably handsome features. It
had been centuries since it had last been called, but now that it was
awake, it planned to have some fun.
———–
Back
in the place where human dwell, Jordan was moody and miserable, both
emotions made worse by the constant stinging throb in his now much
punished bottom. He felt sore, he felt humiliated and on top of all
that, he felt hot. The brief respite of the cooler morning had
passed and the steamy mid – summer temperatures had returned with a
vengeance.
Being
young and in good shape, Jordan was not usually affected by hot
weather, but even he was suffering in this level of heat and
humidity, not least because the hot weather seemed to make the fire
in his butt even more painful.
It
was as if hell fire had been unleashed and was heating the very air,
as a result, Jordan was in a Hellish mood.
His
backside had been stinging ever since those damn injections that
morning, followed by hard and embarrassing bare bottom, hand
spanking, from the Coach. Weirdly, the burning sensation was not
fading, in fact, if anything, it was getting worse, how was that even
possible?!
The
heat, and the pain in his rump were not the only reasons Jordan had
cut class that afternoon. Now that everyone in the school knew what
had happened to him in the locker room, and were probably already
being informed of his latest humiliation, attending a class full of
grinning and giggling students was an embarrassing and humiliating
experience.
It
was intolerable that everyone knew what had happened to him, and the
damage to his fragile ego would take a long time to heal, even after
most people had forgotten. He could only be grateful that so few
people knew that his father had been spanking him every night,
Jordan’s younger brothers knew, but they also knew what would happen
to them if they dared to reveal it!
A
strong desire to escape from the whispering and scornful glances, as
well as relief from the city heat, had led Jordan to jump on his
motorbike and ride out of the city into the open countryside and into
a large forest beyond.
On
the weekend, the forest, which was a national park would have been
full of hikers and tourists, however, as it was now midweek, Jordan
found that, as expected, apart from an occasional passing car, he was
alone, which was now the way he wanted it.
Jordan
was not a natural nature lover, but trees and bushes did not know
what had happened to him, they did not giggle, point and snigger at
his humiliation, so right now he preferred the company of trees to
that of human beings.
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Turning
off the main road through the centre of the forest he followed a
narrow pathway until he reached a small river. Jordan stopped his
motorbike and got off, before pulling a pack of cigarettes from the
pocket of his shorts.
He
lit a cigarette and took in a long drag of smoke. Only an occasional
smoker, this made him cough and he angrily threw the still lit
cigarette aside and walked on, careless of the fire risk in the
summer dried forest.
A
few hundred yards from him, the river flowed into a large pool,
almost the size of a small lake, before flowing on through the woods.
On this scorching hot day, the cool water looked very tempting,
however, there was a clearly visible “NO SWIMMING” sign on
the other bank.
“Fuck
That!” thought Jordan, “Who’s here to see me? It’s fucking hot,
and I feel like a swim! To hell with their damn rules”
With
that, he swiftly slipped off his T-shirt, shorts and sneakers, all of
which he dumped unceremoniously into the grass, then, when naked, he
ran to the edge of the pond and waded in.
The
pond was deep and the water a cool and refreshing respite the
ferocious heat of the day. As a champion level swimmer, Jordan was
in his favourite element, and his beautiful, fit, lithe and supple
body shimmied through the water like a young otter, easily completing
laps of the pool and diving deep under water.
For
a brief while Jordan could forget the humiliation and sore bottom
which currently beset his life and enjoy doing the one thing at which
he really excelled.
Finally,
Jordan pulled himself out of the water and climbed onto a large rock
on the bank. The spurt of rigorous exercise has relaxed him and he
lay down on his stomach to sunbathe for a while. 
 
His
body might feel relaxed , but his mind was still buzzing with the
trauma of the last few days. As he lay there he remembered that he
was due for another spanking from his Dad later that day, and another
the next day. Then on Friday, he was supposed to return to the
doctor for more injections in his backside, there was no way of
getting out of that, he knew the coach would make sure he attended.
As the implications of his situation swirled through his brain he put
his head in his hand, a look of pure desperation on his handsome
face.
Suddenly,
despite his anxiety, he began to feel drowsy. Although he was a fit
and healthy 18 year old, the stress of the last few days had been
exhausting, and within moments of closing his eyes, he had fallen
asleep.
As
he slept, the noon day sun became gradually hotter and hotter and
it’s rays grew more and more intense as the burning ultraviolet shone
down on the land below and onto Jordan’s naked slumbering body.
Of
course, as Jordan spent many hours outside in the sunshine, wearing
just his speedos, his body was well tanned and largely immune from
the more harmful effects of the sun. However, one part of him was
not. The part of him which lay between his golden tan-lines, and
which was usually covered by a protective layer of nylon and spandex
was still winter white and, given recent events, even more tender
than normal.
That
part of him, his little bare white bottom. Was now fully exposed and
directly in the path of the sun’s rays. As the fearsome southern sun
blazed down on Jordan’s naked behind, the snow white, baby soft skin,
began to grow pinker and pinker.
An
hour later Jordan awoke, and quickly became aware of a burning
sensation to his butt cheeks, which were now very tender and quite
badly sunburned. He jumped he feet and peered back over his shoulder
at his considerably reddened backside “DAMN and FUCK IT!” he
thought, that was the last thing he needed right now, especially as
his Dad had threatened him with yet another spanking the coming
evening.
“CAN’T
YOU READ?!” a loud gruff voice rang out, causing him to jump
forward and nearly fall of the rock. He spun round to see an angry
faced forest ranger glaring at him.
“Didn’t
you see this sign?!” the ranger pointed to the sign which Jordan
had ignored “There are dangerous currents in this river, you could
have drowned!” 
 
“That’s
BS!” sneered Jordan “ I was in the rock pool, anyway I am a
strong swimmer!”
“That
doesn’t give you the right to break the rules…. or wander around in
a public place bare butt naked!”
Until
then Jordan had forgotten he was nude, he glanced quickly around, and
realised that the ranger was standing between him and his clothes.
“What’s
it to you?” Sneered Jordan “I….”
Before
any further words had left Jordan’s mouth, the ranger had stepped
forward and grabbed hold of him by the arm. “Don’t you be
disrespecting me!” he snarled. He pointed to his badge “I’ll show
you what happens to impudent young pups who disrespect this badge!”
The
ranger strode towards a fallen tree trunk, pulling the protesting
Jordan after him. He sat down and with one powerful movement pulled
the unlucky young athlete over his knee. 
 
“Where
I come from, when a young varmint like you disrespects the law he
ends up with a butt hotter than a jackrabbit’s tail in a pepper
patch!” He looked down at Jordan’s bare bottom perched temptingly
of his knee “Which is just how that cute little white …. um ..
pink … tail is gonna’ feel when I am done with it!”
With
that the ranger began to give Jordan yet another spanking. The long,
sweep through swing of his arm, and the almost lazy body language
belying the force of his blows.
However,
Jordan was under no illusion as to how hard the Ranger’s slaps were
are they assaulted his upturned rear end. Smack after smack landing
hard on the extra tender, sun burnt, cheeks with a sound not unlike
an artillery discharge.
“OOWW!!”
yelled Jordan, “Please Officer Stop!! I didn’t see the OWWW sign
….. I OWWCH … didn’t see the sign!” he lied.
However,
the grinning Ranger showed no intention of stopping, and in fact,
increased the force of his slaps in response to the young swimmer’s
lies.
Meanwhile,
and unnoticed to both Jordan and the ranger, Jordan’s discarded denim
shorts were gradually being swarmed by a troop of fire ants from the
nest beneath where he had carelessly tossed them. The tiny creatures
crawled all over the short blue pants, most, by pure coincidence (of
course) assembling in the seat area.
Whilst
the swarm of small stinging insects continued to take up residence in
his pants, over by the river bank the spanking continued until
Jordan’s bottom glowed red with the officer’s hand prints, at which
point, when he was satisfied that the boy would not be sitting down
easily for quite a while, the Ranger shoved Jordan off his lap and
stood up. “Let that be a lesson to you youngun!” he said “In
future you obey lawful instructions! That sign is there for a
reason!”
Meanwhile,
Jordan began crawling across the ground clutching his burning
butt cheeks, oblivious to the comical spectacle he was creating. “My
ass is on fire!” he moaned plaintively.
“It
will hurt a lot worse than that if I catch you breaking park rules
again!” snapped the Ranger, the stern tone belied by the amused
twinkle in his eye “Now put your clothes on get on that flashy bike
of yours and head on back to the city!”
Then
the Ranger mounted his own motorbike, gave Jordan a contemptuous mock
salute and rode off down the forest trail, while a glowering and
resentful Jordan watched him leave. The Spanking on his sun singed
bottom was really stinging like crazy, why did this keep happening to
him?!!!
He
stomped over to where he had left his clothes, picked up his shorts,
without looking at them, and quickly put them on. Within seconds he
was to realise what a big mistake this was, his shorts were full of
fire ants, especially the seat area hugging his just spanked bottom.
The ants, of course, did what ants do when they are threatened, or
have their space invaded and immediately began to bite.
“AAAAGHHHH!”
screamed Jordan as two dozen tiny but ferocious insects began sinking
their sharp jaws into his bottom expelling acid like venom as they
did so “AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!”
Jordan
jumped up and down, yelling out in pain as the angry little ants kept
furiously biting at him. He struggled with the button of his shorts,
but it would not budge. It was as if some mysterious external force
was holding it firmly in place and preventing him from stripping off
his ant invaded shorts. 
 
“AAAAAGGGHH!!”
Yelled Jordan “I’m being eaten alive!!” he continued to
frantically struggle with the button of his increasingly tight
shorts, but it would not give way. “Make them stop!! make them
stop!!” he screamed, but only the trees heard him. There was only
one option, he had to drown the vicious little beasts.
Frantic
to stop the biting, Jordan ran back to the river bank, he dived into
the water and sat chest deep in the shallower area near the bank,
submerging his bottom and shorts until the ants finally stopped
biting. 
 
Jordan
signed in relief, as the cool water gave some much needed soothing to
the stinging of his sunburn, spanked and insect stung bottom!
“I
TOLD YOU TO KEEP OUT OF THAT WATER!!!” and angry voice roared
from the river bank. The Ranger, who had appeared to leave the scene
had, in fact, doubled back an instinct alerting him to to check that
Jordan was behaving himself.
“My
pants were full of ants!!” wailed Jordan “They were eating me
alive!”
However
the Ranger was in no mood to listen to excuses, Jordan had broken the
park rules again and there would be consequences! “Come here now
boy!” he ordered.
There
was a note in the Ranger’s voice which demanded obedience, so,
reluctantly, and with an overwhelming sense of doom, Jordan waded to
the bank. The moment he reached the bank the Ranger grabbed him by
the ear and dragged him onto dry land. As he did so, Jordan’s
shorts, which, only minutes before had been so tight he could not get
out of them, fell down around his ankles, leaving him naked once
again.
Still
holding firmly to Jordan’s ear, the Ranger pulled him towards the
path, forcing him to stumble out of his shorts, which were then left,
together with his t-shirt and sneakers were left together back by the
river bank.
“What
is your address boy?” snapped the Ranger
“W…Why
do you need that?” stammered Jordan
“Don’t
Mess with me youngun’!” yelled the offer “address now!”
“7
…um … 727 Parkfield!” replied the unhappy young swimmer.
“Fine!
That’s where we are going!” with that he pushed Jordan face down
across his motorbike, and the straddled the seat behind him, trapping
Jordan between his bulging groin and the steering column of the bike.
He then slammed his booted foot down on the pedal, revered the
powerful engine and and began to ride the bike, with it’s unhappy
cargo back up the track towards the road.
Jordan
frantically looked back at his own bike, still leaning against the
tree. “My bike!!” he yelled.
“Forget
that boy!” laughed the Ranger, “You have much bigger things to
worry about than your old bike”
With
that he increased the throttle and sped off down the track, leaving
Jordan’s clothes and his prized new Yamaha where it was.
The
Ranger’s own motorbike, with the bare bottomed Jordan draped across
it was soon past the track and onto the main road out of the forest,
before joining the free-way back towards town. Once again, Jordan
could not believe the horror of what was happening to him, once again
he was in an embarrassing and exposed position, with a bright red
bare bottom on delay, and once again he had the sinking feeling in
the pit of his stomach that things were about to get even worse.
Jordan
was right, it was about to get worse.
Although
they could have reached Jordan’s home via quieter side roads, the
Ranger chose the more public route through the centre of town, thus
ensuring that far more people got to stare and laugh at the one time
top jock on campus’s latest humiliation.
When
a group of young men who Jordan knew from the sports club began
cheering the passing spectacle, the mortified lad lowered his head
and closed his eyes in shame. His instinct was to try and leap from
the bike and escape, but he was held in place by the pressure of the
Ranger’s bulging groin and rock like thighs, against the bike’s metal
steering column.
It
was then that he became aware of large hard object pressing into his
side, and realised with helpless outrage that his captor was actually
enjoying humiliating him.
Finally,
after having taken a long and very public diversion, the they turned
into Parkfield drive, where the Draper family lived. On reaching the
house, the Ranger dismounted, pulled the naked Jordan off the bike,
and led him to the front door.
The
Ranger knocked hard on the front door, and then rang the bell, but
there was no immediate answer, and Jordan began to hope that for once
he would escape further punishment, perhaps the Ranger would leave
him there, so he could get dressed before anyone else saw him, and
then work out how to bet his new bike back before his dad found
…ou….. Before he could finish the thought, Jordan’s bad luck
continued.
“can
I help you officer!” asked Mr Draper appearing suddenly from the
side of the house “Jordan …. where are your clothes?”
Before
the, now very miserable Jordan, could reply the Ranger had answered
for him, telling Mr, Draper that Jordan had left his clothes
littering the countryside so that he could break park rules by
swimming in a dangerous river.
After
the Ranger had finished Mr. Draper turned to Jordan, the expression
on his face thunderous “I can’t trust you out of the house for five
minutes boy!!” he bellowed! “You know what is going happen now
don’t you?!!”
“No
Dad please!” wailed Jordan, “my as… bottom is really sore
already, you spanked me this morning, then I got sun burn, then the
ranger guy spanked, then all these ants ……!!!”
“Don’t
argue with me boy!” Barked. Mr Draper “Officer, please bring him
round to the garage, there are some people who need to see this!!”
Jordan’s
father then led the Ranger, with the unhappy Jordan in tow, his
father’s last words “Some people who need to see this …” still
ringing in his head….
TO
BE CONTINUED SOON
Posted on

The Sting of the Jungle – Boy’s Return

 The
Sting of the Jungle -Boy’s Return

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

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

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

Ant Hill Punishment

The first ant bite sent a shock of pain through Aiden’s already nettle stung bottom as if it had been jabbed with a red hot needle, the second and third bites stung even more as each time the pincer like jaws clamped onto his tender flesh, a more of the fiery venom was injected into his well punished behind. 
“OWW!! … OWWW!! AAAOOOWCH!!” he yelled “IT HURTS …. IT FUCKING HURTS!”
“Quit Hollerin’ Citry Boy!” Snarled the farmer “The more ya’ holler, the longer you are gonna’ have to sit on that there ant hill!” he grinned “You are gonna’ learn that trespassers in these parts get sent back to the city with very sore little tails!!” He pointed his gun directly at Aiden’s stinging behind.

“Now you sit there and take your punishment, unless you want me to shoot your little white city boy ass off!! …..”

(If anyone wants to write a better narrative to accompany this image, please add it to the comments section below)
 

   

Posted on

The Sting of the Jungle – (Part 2)

 The STING of the Jungle (Part 2)
 
As the days passed and the sting began to fade from his well punished behind, Boy began to regain much of his old cockiness and also a degree of the arrogance and selfishness which had got him into trouble in the fist place. Most boys have short memories, and Boy was no exception, it was not in his nature to be good unless forced to be, and left to his own devices his true nature soon began to resurface.
 
A wise guardian knows that behavioural issues need to be reinforced regularly, usually with a firm hand, or other suitable implement, applied to tender, preferably bared, young buttocks. Tarzan was generally a wise guardian, but he was also a busy man, and, as such he occasionally allowed Boy more freedom than was good for him.
 
Boy, of course took full advantage of this, and in no time he was back to his old ways, mistreating the jungle animals when Tarzan was not looking, and more recently he had taken to spying on the maidens from the village at the edge of the jungle as they bathed in the river.
 
Cheetah watched Boy’s behaviour with growing irritation. The wise old chimp had hoped the lad’s earlier chastisement would lead him to change his ways, but it was becoming clear that further punishment was necessary. He recalled that Boy’s previous punishment began with the forced removal of the youth’s loincloth and decided this was most probably the best way to start.
He took the opportunity as Boy swung passed him hanging from a vine, at which point the old ape reached out, grabbed hold of Boy’s loincloth and tugged, ripping away Boy’s only covering leaving him swinging naked through the jungle.
 
Boy was so taken by surprise that he flew straight into a tree, causing him to loose grip of the vine …..
 
….. sending him hurtling towards the jungle floor where he landed heavily, and painfully on his bare behind.
As Boy lay on the jungle floor, clutching his bruised and aching tush he failed to notice a shadowy figure watching him from among the trees.
 
As this was the second loincloth Boy had lost, Tarzan declared that, as punishment it would not be replaced and that Boy would have to remain naked until he learnt to be more careful with his property.
 
For weeks thereafter Boy’s tender 19 year old bottom would be fully exposed to the world at all times.
 
This provided Tarzan with easy access to it at any time of the day and night when he felt it was appropriate to turn his young ward over his knee and spank him hard. Which as an event that occurred on regular and frequent occasions.
 
 
Meanwhile, in his home on the edge of the jungle, Boy’s most deadly enemy was plotting against him. The Sangoma would never forgive the insult the white boy had carelessly tossed in his direction. Boy had the insolence to call him a mere “witch doctor” and he would pay dearly for that rudeness. 
The Sangoma’s anger had been slated for a while after having watched the butt punishment which Boy had suffered a few weeks earlier, but being prone to violent mood wings his anger had flared again and he decided further chastisement was due.

 

First he would use an ancient potion, the secret properties of which were known to heighten sensation, increasing pleasure and also discomfort by many levels, it was the second of these effects which the Sangoma intended for Boy, he grinned as he dipped the tips of his darts into the liquid.

 

Once his darts were prepared, the Sangoma began to work on another potion, for this he needed to use three of his prized Bhut Jolokia chili peppers, the hottest known to man and grown from seeds imported from Assam. When crushed and mixed with various African herbs and spices they would create a particularly fiery embrocation.
 
Sometime later the Sangoma was seen leaving his hut on the edge of the village and heading towards the jungle carrying a blow pipe and a goatskin bag. 
After stopping briefly at the cave where Tarzan stored provisions and where the ape man and Boy sheltered during the rainy season, the Sangoma set off in search of his target.
He didn’t have far to look, as he has expected Boy was crouching behind a bush by the riverbank watching a group of village girls bathing. 

 

As he crouched there, with his bare white 19 year old bottom raised, he presented an irresistible target for the Sangoma, who, while hiding behind a nearby tree quickly slipped a dart into his blowpipe and raised it to his lips. Taking aim, he inhaled deeply and then before blowing into the pipe.
 
The dart shot out of the pipe and ripped through the air, hurtling towards its exposed and tender target.

 

“Thwup!!” the dart hit Boy in the centre of his right butt cheek the needle like point penetrating his skin like a hypodermic injection shot from a cannon. “YEEEEEAAAAAOOOOOWWW!!” Boy let out a scream of agony as the pain shot through him.

 

The Sangoma grinned to himself as he looked at the feather ended dart sticking out of Boy’s behind like an odd little tale. He knew that, at that very moment the potion was already flowing through Boy’s veins where it would remain for the next 48 hours. The mixture would do no lasting harm to Boy, but whilst it remained in his body it would heighten sensitivity and sensation, so that anything Boy felt, be it pleasure, pain or even mild discomfort, would be considerably exaggerated.
 
If all went to plan, Boy would be experiencing quite a few sensations over the next two days, and few, if any, would be pleasurable ones.
 
Boy ran home clutching the dart in one hand and his throbbing backside with the other. However, when he found Tarzan, the older man was somewhat less sympathetic than he had expected.
“You have obviously been upsetting the villagers again” boomed Tarzan, “they would not be firing darts at you otherwise would they?!!” he said “What did I tell you would happen if you bothered the villager?”
 
“You can’t be serious!” protested Boy ”You can’t spank me! I’ve just been shot in the ass!”
 
“Maybe an even sorer bottom will help reinforce the message!” snarled Tarzan, who sat down on an exposed tree root grabbed hold of Boy threw him over his knee, and began spanking his upturned bare bottom.

By this stage the Sangoma’s potion gad begun to take effect, effectively tripling the stinging sensation caused by the impact of Tarzan’s hand on Boy’s bottom, to boy it felt like each smack was a branding iron searing his flesh. A spanking from Tarzan was bad enough at the best of times, but this one was a fire storm, and Boy immediately began to yell and scream as if he was being murdered.
 
“All that noise, because of a little prick!” shouted Tarzan, “What a baby you are” and he continued to spank with renewed gusto.
 
Watching from behind the tree, the Sangoma chuckled to himself, his plan was working, and this was just the start.

____________________
 
That night Boy slept badly, his dreams were tormented by visions of hellish demons with branding irons and pointed tridents torturing his burning behind.

_________________
 
 
The next morning Tarzan ordered Boy to leave the jungle and go on to the open land to collect a special herb which grew there.

 

Boy was in a bad mood, he was tired after the fitful nights sleep, and his behind still stung from the spanking he had received from Tarzan the day before, he had never known a spanking to sting for so long afterwards, “the old guy must have really hit hard!” he muttered.

 

As Boys was bending to pick the herbs, he failed to notice the brown python slithering towards him, in fact it was not until the huge snake lunged forward and wrapped itself around his legs and arms, trapping him in a bending position, that he even noticed it was there.
 
“Let go of me you overgrown worm” yelled Boy, but the serpent just tightened its grip causing Boy to bend even further into a more vulnerable and exposed position.

It was then that Boy heard the thunderous hooves pounding towards him. He could not see what was coming, but it was obviously large and heavy and probably none too friendly. He struggled to free himself and escape but the python held him firmly in place.
 
In fact the creature approaching Boy from behind was Old Sharp Horn a rhino with one of the longest and pointiest horns in all of Africa, and as the mighty animal lumbered forward that horn was pointed straight at Boy’s tight and puckering rosebud which was raised up and exposed by his humiliating position.

Despite its bulk and the seeming clumsiness of its movement, the rhinoceros hit its target with the precision of an archer striking a bullseye, the pointed horn forcing its way between the tight lips of boys rectum and skewering the errant but handsome like a kebab.

 
Its job done, the python released it’s grip and slithered away as the rhino raised its head, hooking Boy by the anus and lifting him off the ground.

His entire body weight now resting on his penetrated anus, Boy reached back and gripped the horn, on which he was now firmly impaled straining every muscle and breaking into a sweat in a relatively unsuccessful effort to prevent the sharp and hard tusk from entering further inside him.
 
The rhino turned and began to run causing Boy to bounce up and down on its horn, each bounce forcing the hard and rough object further up his behind, The unfortunate lad screamed in pain as his tight spincter was stretched wide and wider by the intruding shaft, to his horror he realised he was, in effect, being fucked by a rhino horn.

 

On the rhino trundled, its huge hoofs thudding on the ground and causing its mighty frame to shudder and jerk each movement thrusting the hard and tormenting horn into the unhappy youth impaled on its spiky end.
Then the great beast stopped dead in its tracks, and with one violent shake of its head, sent boy flying off its horn and high into the air before he came hurtling back down to land on a mound of earth in the centre of savanna, breaking the crust and landing heavily in the middle of the structure.

 

Stunned and sore Boy sat for a moment in the middle of the broken mound, despite his uncomfortable landing he was glad to be off that hard and thrusting horn. His relief was short lived, for when he attempted to lift himself free from the hole caused by his landing, he found he could not. The mound appeared to be a structure formed of a number of passageways leading to a central chamber. Boy’s bottom had broken through the ceiling of the chamber but was now firmly wedged between the sides of the hole he had created, like a cork jammed in a bottle neck.
 
He tried to struggle but that only served to jam his bare bottom further into the hole. He was trapped with only his head legs arms and shoulders above the ground, with the rest of him gripped firmly in a ‘v’ shape in the unyielding and compacted earth which made up the mound in which he had landed.
 
He tried to shout for help, but his voice echoed around the empty plain, and he knew there was nobody to hear him, as Tarzan was miles away back in the jungle.
 
His voice was heard though, the Sangoma, who had been hiding nearby patted the head of the great rhinoceros as it waddled past him on its way back to the river. “Well done Kifaro he whispered, you have done well!”

 

Back at the mound, Boy was wracking his brain to think of a means of escape when he sensed a tingle across his butt cheek as first one set of six tiny legs and then another began to crawl over his behind, followed by a third and a forth. At first he could not understand what was happening, but then he looked at the mound and accompanied by a growing horror the realisation of what it was began to dawn on him. It was an ant hill ….. HIS BARE ASS WAS STUCK IN AN ANT HILL!!

It was not just any ant-hill, there were African fire ants, a tiny creature renowned for is aggression and for the pain its bite was said to cause. Boy did not have long to wait before he discovered the truth of that claim, or to find out how fire ants earned their name when, as if sensing his fear as he tensed his body, one of the angry insects sunk its sharp and disproportionately large jams into his tender flesh, injecting a tiny but potent dose of its venom as it did so.

 

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHOOOOWWWWW!!” screamed Boy as the pain shot into him like a red hot needle “YEEEEEAAAAOOOWW!” he yelled as another of the vicious creatures followed suit with. “Help me!!!!! AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!! …..HELP!!!”
 
The only one to hear his cries was the Sangoma, and there was no help to come from that quarter, the cruel man laughed as turned and made his way back to the village. He felt the white boy had been punished enough for now, especially with the one further surprise he had in store for the unlucky youth, assuming the ants didn’t eat him first!

 

The ants were now swarming over Boy’s invitingly presented behind and biting as they did so, including his most intimate tender and sensitive areas, the head of his penis and his tight little anus, injecting more of their agonizing venom as they did so. The creatures seemed to have an instinctive knowledge as to the most sensitive areas to attack, such as the the pink fleshy dimples at the very rim of his rectum causing a sensation not unlike being penetrated with a red hot poker.
 
Boy’s behind was now a zone or radiating pain, stinging as if it were in a furnace which was getting hotter and hotter with each brutal nip from the marauding ants.
 
By now boy was screaming, kicking his legs in the air and thumping the earth with his fists as if in an impotent attempt to beat away the pain, as hot tears ran down his cheeks.
Finally from somewhere he found the strength to heave himself out of the hole, but not before the ants has bitten every inch of exposed skin from the top of his thighs to the small of his back. Across his cheeks they had crawled, between them and into his most delicate and intimate crevices, and bitten everywhere they went.
 
Boy struggled to his feet, sobbing like a baby and clutching is punished behind he staggered away from the broken anthill and its ferocious inhabitants. He was free from the trap but the pain would not go away.
 
He had to get back to Tarzan and the soothing potions he kept in a cave at the middle of the jungle.
 
The journey home was long and painful, as the only bearable way to walk was with the bow-legged gait of a cowboy who had spent too long in the saddle, whie holding his butt cheeks apart to prevent the ant bits from rubbing together.
 
Tarzan acted immediately when Boy staggered into the clearing beneath their sleeping tree. Upon hearing what had happened he threw Boy over his shoulder and ran to the cave where he stored his provisions, including the the special soothing ointment made from various jungle ingredients,which he kept for dealing with burns and insect bites.

 Once in the cave, Tarzan sat down upon a rock and firmly placed Boy, bottom uppermost, between his knees, a position which gave him maximum access to the youth’s sorest parts.

Usually Boy would have found such a position demeaning and humiliation, but now all he cared about was that the pain go away.
Tarzan scooped a large dollop of the ointment from the bowl beside him and began to rub it firmly into boys stinging bottom, across the firm but very reddened young cheeks, then between them and into every intimate area. Noting the angry bites around Boy’s rectum, he gently inserted an ointment covered finger into the young man moving it around inside his anus.
 
“It will feel better soon!” he whispered.
 
Boy heard the reassuring tone in Tarzan’s voice, but he wasn’t reassured, for in fact far from feeling better his bottom was starting to feel even worse. Instead of soothing the sting, the pain seemed to be getting more intense as his behind became hotter and hotter “Stop!!” he gasped, “Are you using the right stuff?!!!”
 
“Of course I ………!!” Tarzan began to reply and then paused as he suddenly became aware of hot burning sensation on his hands, he turned his hands over and examined his palms which were both a sore and angry burning red colour and felt as if they had been badly sun burnt “…What on earth?!!”
 
He picked up the bowl of “ointment” and noticed for the first time that it had an unusual reddish tint to it, he dipped his finger in it and then touched his tongue and recoiled as the hot sensation hit him. Someone had swapped the soothing cream fir a paste containing extra powerful chillies and that was what he had been liberally applying to his ward’s punished posterior!

 

Boy leapt to his feet and let out a shriek of agony as he clutched his roasting behind “I’m on fire!!!!” he yelled as he rushed out of the cave letting out an ear splitting roar of anguish as he did so.
He continued to yell out in pain as he ran towards the river the fiery sensation in his behind getting hotter and hotter as he ran.
 
The sound of his cries echoed through the jungle and could be heard as far away as the Sangoma’s hut, causing him to chuckle, his plan has worked out perfectly!

Poor Boy sat at the top of the waterfall for hours hoping the cool water would sooth his stinging bottom, but unluckily for him, the Sangoma had mixed a powerful paste and it would be days before the sting in his tale even began to fade.

The (very Sore) end!!