Tag: heat

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The Shaman’s Revenge – Chapter 23

The Shaman’s Revenge Chapter 23

Jordan and the Paddle Drone

Jordan could not believe what he had just heard, he had faced a lot of different criticism in the past, but nobody had ever suggested what Officer Tartarus had just accused him of. Jordan was very proud of his fit and well toned athletic physique, so his new guardian’s words had really hit a nerve.

“I am not out of shape!” he almost snarled with indignation “There’s no way I’m …. FAT!!”

“You will be if you spend all day slouching there like a couch potato and eating chips!” replied Tartarus

“I have been here for fine minutes!”

“And your hair is too long, you look like a mess!”

“Mandy Morino says she likes my hair like this!”

“Mandy Morino is a slut!”

Jordan frowned, but decided not to respond, he didn’t want to admit that the neighbour’s 18-year-old daughter Mandy’s sluttish nature was one of her main attractions, and besides was also beginning to suspect the Ranger was not interested in girls.

“I am not out of shape, I swim every day!”

“Swimming is good!” replied Tartarus “But you need to run, when did you last go for a run?”

“There’s nowhere to run, the garden is too small, and the park is full of homeless people and drug addicts!”

“We could go to the beach, Sunny Bay Cove is not far, there is plenty of space to run there, and as it’s mid-week there will be nobody there. You could run for miles!”

After some arguing, Jordan reluctantly agreed, deciding a day at the beach might be fun, even if it meant he, would be stuck with Tartarus all day and had to run a bit.

An hour later, they arrived at Sunny Bay Cove, and, as Officer Tartarus had predicted, they had the beach to themselves. It was also a very hot day, and Jordan was keen to get out of his street clothes and into something more suitable for the beach.

The Ranger, who was sitting in a deckchair he’s brought with them, watched Jordan undress with a crooked grin on his face. He knew Jordan felt uncomfortable being naked in front of him, but he also knew that there was nothing Jordan could do about it.

It was immediately obvious that Jordan was not “Out of shape” or “fat”, as had been suggested earlier, he was in fact in excellent shape, with a the lithe and fit body of a Healthy young athlete. However, Tartarus could not resist a little unkind teasing “You need to loose a few pounds off that fat butt!” he snorted, pointing at Jordan’s perfectly proportioned bottom.

Jordan glowered sulkily and grabbed the bag containing his running gear, anxious to cover his nakedness.

However, when he unzipped the bag, he found there was nothing inside apart from a single white jockstrap. The shorts, singlet and running shoes he had packed only an hour before, were no longer there.

“Where’s my stuff!” he protested angrily “Did you unpack it?”

“You must have packed the wrong bag, you know how careless you are!” replied Tartarus casually

“I didn’t pack the wrong bag! .. it was this one”

“It can’t have been, otherwise you would have your kit! Wouldn’t you?” Tartarus shrugged “Anyway, you have that!”

“A jockstrap?” cried an angry Jordan “I can’t run in nothing but a jockstrap!”

“Why not? There’s nobody here to see you, and I won’t look!”

Jordan scowled, he knew the Ranger would look, he always looked.

“Just wear the jock!” insisted Tartarus “You can’t wear your street clothes, you’ll sweat like a pig in this heat!”

Reluctantly, Jordan put on the jockstrap, at least it would cover his junk, even though it left his bare butt exposed. Thank God there was no-one else there.

Whilst preoccupied in peering into the distance to ensure there were no observers on the beach, Jordan failed to notice the ranger opening his own beach bag and taking out a large object.

Then he heard a gentle humming sound behind him, he spun round to see a bizarre flying object shaped like a ping-pong paddle, seemingly hovering in the air in front of him.

“What the f….. what’s THAT?”

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A Sore Bottom For Travis

A Sore Bottom For Travis

(A Sore Bottom For Travis, written by StricTop and Illustrated by Bruce, was first published elsewhere in September 2011)

“Muh-ther-FUK-ker!”

It was his standard response to any annoying situation. And it seemed to Travis that more than his share of situations were annoying lately, if not downright frustrating. Not being the brightest bulb on the tree, Travis’ many brilliant ideas often had a way of just not working out.

“Muh-ther-FUK-ker!” He whined to no one in particular.

For Travis, ‘motherfucker’ referred to all the nameless, faceless people and circumstances that conspired to keep him from getting what he wanted—easy money, free drugs, and plenty of sex.

“Fukfukfukfukfuk!!” He crumpled the envelope he was holding and threw it angrily at the blank TV.

Tiffany, Travis’ latest in a long line of girlfriends, stuck her head in from the kitchen. She had one of those flawless faces that are irretrievable after the age of 28 and that crowd every nightspot and modelling agency from Encino to East L.A.

“What is it, Travis, honey? What are you yelling about?” She flipped her perfect, shiny blonde hair with surgical precision and blinked at him from wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. She wiggled over and settled in beside him on the sofa.

“Honey, don‘t get so upset.” She stroked his head and cooed soothingly. “Don‘t waste all that energy on unimportant little things.” She clearly had no idea what was actually bothering him. “You‘re going to need all the energy you got for the game next week…and for me…” She adopted what she thought was her sexiest pout and ran her hand across the front of his chest.

Travis White had picked her up the previous weekend at one of the hotter clubs in town and she had been staying with him ever since—that is, staying at the million-dollar condo in Westwood that belonged to his uncle, Charlie White. But she didn‘t know that. Travis had told her it was his place and his car. He had also told her that he was on the starting lineup of the Los Angeles Dodgers. The bar was about to close. She was drunk. He was flashing around a lot of cash. And neither of them thought past the end of Travis’ dick.

They went home that night and had amazing sex. What each lacked in IQ points, they more than made up for in good looks and sexual enthusiasm. She wanted to believe she had hooked up with a big baseball star—and he intended to let her.

The deal was clinched when he showed up the next afternoon with a giant bottle of her favorite perfume. She had seen it in the store and knew exactly what it cost. Unconcerned that large-bottle-size rarely predicted quality, they each beamed with their own inner pride—she, pleased at how easy it was to get him to buy her the most expensive thing on the counter; he gloating that the ridiculously-priced bottle was a knock-off he had purchased for five bucks on the street.

The giant bottle gleamed obscenely on the coffee table while Travis’ thoughts drifted to the note crumpled on the floor.

*

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The Shaman’s Revenge Part 17 (Part 2)

The Shaman’s Revenge Part 17 (Part 2)

Jordan’s brain was still in a state of stunned shock the following morning. After the ranger had driven him home and he had endured an hour long lecture from his father on his various misdemeanours, followed by a long hot shower to wash away the dirt, grime and stress from his 72 hours in the wilderness, he has fallen into an exhausted sleep. However, it had been a fitful sleep full of scary nightmares of angry insects, huge carrots and doctors, with syringes the size of AK47 rifles, chasing him trough a forest variously booby-trapped with nettle patches and electric fences, all of which contrived to sting and zap his bottom.

And all the time as he ran through the dark forest he could hear the sound of the Ranger’s laughter echoing through the trees.

In his dream Jordan tripped and fell backwards into a thorn bush, landing heavily on his backside amongst the prickly thorns. As he struggled to free himself from the thorns, the ranger’s voice began echoing in his head “Time for your shots Sport” it said “It’s time for your shots!”

Then a large brawny hand was on his shoulder shaking him firmly as the voice above boomed “Wake up Sport, you’re making weird noises, were you dreaming?”

Jordan opened his eyes, and found he was in fact not in a thorn bush, but in his bed, and Ranger Tartarus was leaning over him with a huge grin on his face. In place of the uniform he had been wearing the previous day, the ranger was now dressed as if for a work out, in a muscle vest, which exposed his powerful arms and shoulders, and a small tight pair of shorts.

“W..What are you doing in my room?” shouted Jordan angrily, sitting up in bed “….What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m moving in Sport!” grinned the Ranger “Your Dad had to leave early this morning, he has had to go to Seattle for a couple of weeks on business, at short notice. So he’s asked me to move in and supervise you while he’s away!” his grin broadened “I am in the spare room, right next door to you!!”

“I don’t need supervision!!” cried Jordan angrily

The ranger raised one eyebrow “With your misbehaviour this week, you have proved you need full time supervision Sport!” he said, “an’ I’m going to see you get it! I am owed a lot of vacation time, and I’m going to use it to look after you, it will be lots of fun, just think of me as your new Babysitter!!”

The suggestion that, he, a 19 year old jock, needed a babysitter outraged Jordan almost more than anything else, but before he could say anything, Tartarus pointed to the door “first up, its time for your morning shower, you know what they say ‘a clean body equals a clean mind!”

“I showered last night!” grumbled Jordan, irritated at being ordered around like a little kid.

“Well you need another one!” commanded the Ranger “’specially after those sweaty nightmares you were having!”

Jordan frowned wondering how the ranger knew he had nightmares “Well pass me my bathrobe then!” he muttered, pointing to the robe hanging on the back of the door.

“You don’t need no robe Sport!” laughed Tartarus “Remember what the Doc said about keeping that ‘lil tail ‘o yours exposed!” he grinned broadly “’sides” he said “I seen it all before!!”

Jordan had no option, he jumped out of bed, keeping his hands gripped tightly over he genitals and hurried across the room to get to the shower.

As he walked across the landing he was keenly aware that the ranger’s amused eyes were fixed on him.

In particular, he knew the ranger was looking at his bare butt.

*

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The Shaman’s Revenge Part 14 – Jordan meets the Cody Brothers

The
Shaman’s Revenge Part 14
Jordan meets the
Cody Brothers
As
Jordan got closer to the buildings he had spotted in the distance,
his heart began to sink. From what he could see this was no
picturesque country farmhouse with roses round the door or a white
picket fence, and the chances of it being inhabited by a friendly
plump farmer and his wife, who would feed him pumpkin pie and lend
him their eldest son’s grown out of jeans were diminishing with each
step he took.
 
The
buildings appeared somewhat dilapidated and in poor repair, in fact
were it not for the half dozen or so scrawny looking chickens pecking
at seed corn in the yard and a rather ragged carpet, hanging on a
line, he might have concluded that the property was unoccupied.
Whoever did live in the ranch was obviously not house proud, and
Jordan’s instincts told him he was unlikely to receive a friendly
welcome.
He
decided that instead of seeking out the homeowner and asking for
help, he would merely see if there was any food or clothing he could
steal before continuing on his way.
Moving
as quietly as he could, he crept up to the old ranch house. He
sprinted quickly up to a small sash window and peered into what
appeared to be a bedroom with an unmade cot, and, he was pleased to
note, a pile of discarded clothes in the corner. In the past he would
have disdained the idea of wearing someone else’s discarded clothes,
but he was now in no position to be choosy. At least he could cover
his nakedness and then maybe find his way to the kitchen and some
food.
He
attempted to prize open the window, but it clearly had not been
opened for years, and was sealed shut. He considered breaking the
glass, but decided the noise would alert whoever lived in the farm of
his presence. 
 
In
the hope of finding an easier window, he tiptoed round the side of
the house, and, for once, his luck was in, as one of the windows had
been left open, he hurried up to it and cautiously looked in to what
appeared to be a very old fashioned and run down kitchen with a
kitchen table, covered with 1950’s style plastic with a large
kerosene lamp in the middle. Against the wall was large Iron stove,
reminiscent to something one might see in a frontier type movie.
However, of most interest to Jordan was a tiny walk in cupboard at
the side of the room, which appeared to me a larder.
At
the very thought of a larder his stomach began to rumble with hunger.
It was now almost 24 hours since he had last eaten, a for a boy who
was accustom to three meals and a few snacks a day, this was all but
starvation. Jordan loved food, to the point of over indulgence, and
it was only his healthy metabolism and active lifestyle which kept
his handsome body in it’s sleek athletic state.
Much
as he needed clothes, his stomach needed food even more, so his first
priority lay in whatever was in the larder. After taking a swift
look around to ensure he was still unobserved, Jordan quickly
clambered through the open window into the kitchen. Whilst ensuring
he made as little sound as possible, he hurried over to the larder
and looked inside.
The
content of the larder was rather disappointing, given the marked lack
of candy, cheeseburgers or hot dogs. However, there was bread, oil
and there was also a bowl containing about a dozen eggs and a small
jug of milk.
They
would have to do.
Of
course he couldn’t eat raw eggs, so he carried the bowl across to the
old iron stove. He noted with relief that it was still alight, and
it only took a little poking and some extra kindling to get it
flaming and heating up the stone ring on the top.
He
then poured some oil into a heave based frying pan, which he placed
on the ring to heat up, before cracking most of the eggs and tipping
the contents into the pan and stirring it together to make
rudimentary scrambled eggs.
The
eggs were ready in minutes, and once they were, Jordan quickly
scraped them onto a plate, before carelessly discarding the pan onto
the side of the stove. Then, still naked, he sat down at the table
and hungrily devoured the eggs and bread, whilst drinking milk
straight from the jug.
Jordan
was so occupied in consuming his first meal in a day, he failed to
hear the door behind him opening, or the sound of stealthy footfall
creeping towards him.
The
spidery sense that there was someone behind him finally hit Jordan
just too late to save him, as a large, leathery, sun tanned hand
landed in his shoulder and a loud voice with a distinct Country ca
dance snarled in his ear “How dare you sneak in butt nekid’ and
steal from our larder you thievin’ Varmit!?”
Jordan
leaped to his feet and spun round to find a huge mountain of a man,
bulging with muscles and shaggy black hair, on both his head and
chest, looming over him with an unmistakably hostile and menacing
expression on his face. Then a second man, equally muscular, but
with a bristling light brown beard entered the room.
Floyd
and Billy Bob Cody, together with their younger brother Seth, had
lived in their remote ranch house for most of their lives, ever since
their papa was locked away in the county prison for killing a man in
a bar fight and their mother had abandoned them after taking up with
a tractor salesman from North Dakota. The Cody boys had been looked
after by their grandmother, Ernestine Clutterbuck, until she, sadly
expiredd from an excess on sweet potato moonshine and chewing
tobacco.
Living
mostly alone, with only the acquaintance of a few nearby ranchers,
the Cody brother had little experience of city folk, but both could
spot a pretty city boy when they saw one, and Jordan was an
unconscionably pretty boy. Both men felt a stirring in their groins,
which they didn’t fully comprehend.
“My
.. my clothes were stolen .. and I…I was hungry!” stammered
Jordan, keenly aware that he was in a very dangerous predicament.
Unfortunately, his explanation didn’t help
“So!”
hissed Floyd, holding his face so close to Jordan’s that the latter
could feel the spit on his face “Just ‘cos, someone stole from you,
you thought you could then rob us blind did you boy?!” his lip
curled into a cruel shape “You need a good whopping youngun’ and
you’re gonna’ get one” with that he snatched the, still smoking,
pan which Jordan had used to cook the eggs, from the stove! “This’ll
do just fine!” 
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He
then took hold of Jordan by the ear and forcibly marched him over to
an old wooden chair in the centre of twhat passed for he cabin’s
lounge.
“No
please sir!” wailed Jordan “Don’t hit me with … that!! I will
pay for the food … my Dad will pay you, just phone him!”
“We
don’t have no telephone here!” growled Floyd “You are gonna’ pay,
and you’ll pay with that pretty lil’ white butt o’ yours!” he sat
down and roughly pulled Jordan, face down, over his knee into what,
for Jordan, was becoming a depressingly familiar position..
With
that, he raised the pan up above his head and then brought it down
with a resounding “THUD!” on Jordan’s upturned bottom. On
account of having been left on the side of the old cooker, rather
than directly on the hot plate, the pan was no longer hot enough to
cause scaring burns, but it was still hot enough to feel as if it
was! Jordan’s high pitched squeal of pain and outrage echoed round
the shabby wooden room, followed with a second and a third, as Floyd
continued to wallop him with the hot, heavy bottomed pan.
“Yeah!
Whop that city boy’s butt Bro!” shouted Billy Bob “Whop him good!
Make him feel it!!”
Jordan
was certainly “feeling it”, the strength of Floyd Cody’s blows,
combined with the retained heat of the old frying pan, felt to Jordan
as if his tender butt was literally being fried.
His
yelps of pain merged into wails of anguish and then and then loud
uncontrolled sobs, as his muscular captor continued to assail him.
Finally
Floyd stopped pan paddling Jordan, he stood up, and scooped the young
man up under his arm as easily as if the 18 year old athlete were a
light as a feather.
“Say
Bro!” cried Billy Bob “That city boy butt sure does look pretty.
All red an all!” he grinned “I could just eat that, roast with
sweet potatoes and a carrot up his ass!” 
 
Floyd
looked down, at Jordan’s glowing, just paddled, bottom and long
tanned legs sticking out from beneath his massive hairy armpit “Yeah,
I’d say it does look kina’ pretty like that, we’ll have to make sure
it stays that way!”
Billy
Bob reacted excitedly to the implication of his elder brother’s words
“Can we keep him Floyd!” he asked gleefully “Please Bro lets
keep him, then you can spank him every morning and I’ll do it each
evening to keep his city boy tush pretty and red!”
“Well
okay!” replied Floyd “Just so long as you an’ Seth keep guard of
him during the day, stopping him from running off, and make sure he
earns his keep!”
“Oh
yes, we’ll guard him!” insisted Billy Bob “we will make sure he
does stuff round the farm …….!” he paused, and grinned
sheepishly “and then have some ….. fun with him!” he chuckled
Jordan
listened in horror to the men’s discussion, he certainly did not like
the idea of being kept or … being had fun with!! “Please Sirs,!”
he stammered “Let me go, I need to go home …. I won’t say
anything ….!
“Shut
your mouth Varmit!” snapped Floyd delivering a resounding WHACK to
Jordan’s upturned bottom with the pan he still held in his powerful
hand. “Come on Billy Bob, lets put him in the cellar.”
The
men carried Jordan down to their cellar, repeatedly bumping his head
against the wall as they did so. Floyd then tossed him onto the hard
earth floor, before he and Billy Bob tied their captive up.
As
the felt the cellar, Billy Bob looked back “Sleep well, pretty
boy!” he said “We’ll have some fun in the morning”
Needless
to say, Jordan did not sleep well, the throbbing pain in his bottom,
together with the horror of his situation, and fearful anticipation
of the “fun” Billy Bob had in mind for him kept him wide away.
Even later, when he did fall into an unhappy and fitful sleep, he was
haunted by awful and frightening dreams, all focused on the new
torments he was sure would soon be inflicted on his long suffering
behind.
Jordan
had been living though a period of extraordinarily bad luck, but even
by those standards, his luck had now taken an especially nasty turn.
He dreaded to think what further misadventures were in store for him!
TO
BE CONTINUED
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The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Four – pt 1)

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

.
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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 9)

The
Shaman’s Revenge (Part 9)
Chase
Colby had just returned home after a very bad day, there had been a
lot of bad days recently, but that day had been one of the worst as
he had just lost the second job in three month. Chase’s boss. Will
Bryant, the Caretaker at Capsaicin College, had eventually tired of
the lazy young fool’s constant lateness and shoddy workmanship and
sacked him.
This
was a big problem for Chase as he needed the money. Due to his poor
credit rating he had needed to borrow money from a loan shark, and
the interest was very high, if he could repay the debt the lender was
likely to become very unpleasant.
More
significantly, on his scale of importance, Chase liked having money
in his pocked, it was a lot easier to ball chicks when a guy had
money.
Despite
his financial concerns, however, Chase had still spent part of the
cash he had left on beer and some high quality weed from a dealer he
knew. He figured that a drink and a smoke would take his mind off
his troubles.

As
soon as the handsome young wastrel got home, he stripped naked and
spent ten minutes under a shower, the hot soapy water providing a
welcome balm to his lithe and tanned, perfectly formed but tense and
aching body.
Finally
stepping out of the shower and drying himself, he padded, still
naked, into the studio bedroom of his tiny apartment, and turned on
his huge “Ghetto blaster” style portable radio, tuned to a
station which played his favourite heavy rock music 24/7, then opened
a first bottle of beer, which he swiftly downed and followed with a
second. 

He then threw himself face down on the bed and rolled
himself a joint from the marijuana he had purchased earlier that day.
After
a few puffs of the expensive weed, Chase began to feel mellow and
relaxed, he leaned over and turned up the music as high as it would
go, yelling “Yeah man!” as he did so.
Chase
planned to only play the music for an hour or so, since the incident
with the wasps, which he was superstitiously convinced the weird old
East European man upstairs had something to do with, he had made sure
the he did not make any noise after 10:30 at night, when he believed
the old man went to bed.
His
good behaviour motivated by fear rather than good neighbourliness,
Chase had intended to do the same that night. However, the drugs
which his pusher had sold him was a lot more powerful than usual,
and the effect was intensified by combining it with the strong beer
he had just drunk. As a result, within twenty minutes of lighting
the first joint, the unlucky young hunk had fallen fast asleep.
Chase
would be unconscious for the next eleven hours, although he did not
sleep peacefully, as his dreams were troubled by the same reoccurring
nightmare, in which he was running naked through an endless field of
corn, pursued by a swarm of giant and angry hornets, all intent on
stinging his bare behind.
Throughout
the long hours of hours of the night, the loud rock music continued
to blare out of the huge speakers wired to his ghetto blaster. The
noise was so loud, it smothered all other sounds, including his
elderly upstairs neighbour furiously hammering on the floor, and
threatening Chase with every agony that Hell had in store for him.
*************
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Whilst
Chase still slept, elsewhere in town, Jordan Draper had risen early,
and was up to no good. Before anyone else was awake he slipped out of
the house and hurried quietly across the road to the old McKinny
house, where the ranger was living, and he was intent on doing harm
in some way, although he had not yet decided what way.
After
the events of the last two days, it had become clear to Jordan that
having the ranger for a neighbour was really bad news for him, and
likely to get worse. He had to get rid of the ranger, or find some
way of stopping him from causing trouble.
Various
ideas went through his head, perhaps he could find evidence of bad
deeds on the rangers part, which Jordan could use to blackmail the
officer into leaving town. It seemed obvious that a guy who took
such obvious pleasure in spanking a guy, and sticking needles in his
ass, had to be some sort of pervert, maybe there would be some
evidence of perversion in the house, which Jordan could use.
Failing
that, if the hose “accidentally” caught fire, the ranger would
have to more, or even better, the ranger might be trapped inside the
house when it burnt down.
With
vengeance also on his mind, the thought of the ranger burning to
death …. slowly ….. was not an unattractive prospect to Jordan at
that moment!
Once
at the back of the old McKinny house, Jordan looked around for the
best way to get in, and noticed that a small skylight window in the
basement appeared to be unlocked. He pushed it with his foot and it
gave way. The window was unlocked, and it was just large enough for
him to squeeze through.
After
furtively glancing around to check that there was nobody watching,
Jordan climbed through the window and, with the agility of a young
fawn, jumped down to the floor below. The Mckinny basement was not
one of those which had been remodelled into a trendy residential
space, or underground games room, but instead it was the old style
storage space beneath the house, with a stained concrete floor,
exposed rafters and a single light bulb hanging on a wire from the
ceiling.
He
saw a light switch and turned on the single light, so as to be able
to better see where he was. As he did so, Jordan noticed an unlit
furnace and some cans of gasoline on one side of the room, these
would be useful if he did decide to burn down the house. However,
first he needed to find a way into the main living, and began
creeping towards a set of stone stairs leading to a doorway.
However,
it was at this point that things became surreal, as suddenly, there
was a sound like a rushing wind around his feet, and then, to his
amazement his feet left the floor, as if some strange force was
lifting him up and tipping him forward, but instead of falling
towards the floor, he began floating upwards towards the ceiling, as
if his body was defying gravity.
 
“What
the f….?” gasped Jordan, unable to fully comprehend what was
happening to him. He had once seen a show featuring a magician
seemingly levitating his assistant, but he was sure that was faked.
Whereas this was really happening. He reached out to grab at a
central pillar in an attempt to steady himself, but it was out of his
reach, and he just kept steadily rising like some weightless
astronaut.
If
that was not bizarre enough, suddenly first one shoe slipped off his
feet and fell to the floor followed by a second, then his jeans
became became strangely loose and began falling down his legs.
Jordan grabbed out to stop the jeans coming off totally, but it was
too late, as they had already slipped down his legs and joined the
shoes in a crumpled pile of blue denim on the floor.
Jordan
could not believe what was happening to him, this shit couldn’t be
for real, he must be asleep and dreaming.
What
happened next made his realise with 100% certainty that he was wide
awake. He was now naked from the waste down, and as he continued to
float upwards , his exposed bare bottom was getting closer and closer
to the glowing light bulb. Of course as the light bulb was behind
him, Jordan was unaware that he was gliding towards it, until the hot
glass sphere touched the tender skin between his butt cheeks.
“AAAAGHHH!”
screamed Jordan “That’s FUCKING HOT!!!” indeed the bulb was very
hot, and inexplicably seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as it
rubbed against Jordan’s most tender and sensitive area. Then as if
two large invisible hands had grasped each butt cheek, and spread
them open, so that the glowing light bulb slipped between them, and
was soon pressed against the puckering pink rim of his anus.
“YYYYEEEEEOOOOOOOOO”” screamed Jordan as the bulb continued to
heat up. “Someone help me!!”
Although,
it seemed much longer, Jordan’s anus was, in fact, only in contact
with the bulb for a matter of seconds, but it was long enough to
singe the tender skin.
Then,
as if whatever had lifted him up was weakening its grip, Jordan began
descending back towards floor. Then suddenly, inanimate objects
which had been lying about the basement, seem to come to life, and
fly towards him, swirling around his backside and legs in a spectacle
reminiscent of some clever cartoon animation. However, their purpose
seemed altogether less innocent than most cartoons.
First
a pair of hard soled old arm boots flew at Jordan as he still floated
down before the left boot delivered a massive kick to his uplifted
backside, sending him flying forward, and causing one of his socks to
fall off. The right boot then kicked Jordan’s other butt cheek,
causing his second sock to fall off and Jordan to let out a further
cry of pain.
Next,
an old garden rake flew at this him and began jabbing his bottom with
it’s sharp prongs. Sometimes it jabbed the butt cheeks and sometimes
it jabbed between. Now on the floor, Jordan, tried crawling out of
range of the needle like prongs, but the fork followed him, still
jabbing away.
In
some way that Jordan couldn’t quite understand, as he crawled, his
hooded sweat shirt, also fell off, leaving him naked.
However,
for all their bruising kicks and jabbing thrusts. The boots and the
garden fork were mere warm up acts compared to the next object
which was to assault the young athlete’s punished posterior.
Although smaller than the other items, who knew that a common plastic
bristled bottle brush could have such a devastating impact, if
inserted where it was about to thrust itself. 
 
First
the brush spun in circles, as if taking aim, then, with the
trajectory of a speeding bullet, it shot towards the unlucky young
athlete’s raised bottom, pushed between his buttocks, forcing open
the tight pink orifice between, and penetrating deep inside Jordan,
until every plastic bristle had vanished from view, and only the long
wire handle protruded from between the quivering cheeks.
Jordan,
a look of wide eyed shock on his face, opened his mouth to cry out,
but no sound came, and a silent scream echoed round the shabby
basement. He was like a frozen statue kneeling in an all fours “doggy
position” as the full enormity of the horror sunk in.
The
bristles of the bottle brush were only plastic, so they were not, in
reality, tearing his flesh, they just felt as if they were was.
However, it we not just the pain which further discomforted Jordan,
the bristles seemed to be pricking against every nerve end within in
his lower body, sending electric like pulses, similar to touching an
especially sensitive tooth, through his tense young body.
This
was causing sensations, he had never felt before, and never wished to
feel again. There are many straight men who derive secret pleasure
from anal penetration, but Jordan was not one of these men, for him
the sensation was nightmarish and incapacitating.
He
reached back, took hold of the wire handle and attempted to pull the
brush out if it’s new socket. However, the shock had caused his rear
passage to involuntarily tighten, with the result that the brush was
gripped firmly and would not budge.
A
flood or rational and and irrational thoughts washed back and forth
through his mind, he could understand very little of what had
happened within the last few frantic minutes, however the one stark
reality was that he needed to get this ghastly alien object removed
from his body, and for that, however embarrassing it might be, it
meant he had to find help.
He
attempted to stand up, but found he could not, as any attempt to
stand straight caused the bottle brush inside him to push against
nerves and muscle, causing an almost Sciatica like paralysis, which
kept him bent double. There was no way that he could either mount
the stairs, or climb back out the window, if he was stuck in this
position.
As
he lay on the floor, effectively immobilised, the full nightmare
reality of his predicament became clear, he was trapped, stark naked
in the basement of an officer of the law, who obviously wished him
ill and who’s home he had just broken into. And top top it all, he
had a bottle brush wedged up his ass.
With
mounting horror Jordan realised that he was, well and truly, and
indeed literally, fucked!
To
be continued ….
Posted on

The Shaman’s Revenge Part 7 (3)

 The
Shaman’s Revenge Part 7 (3)
The
garage door gradually slid upwards and open, almost like a theatre
curtain slowly rising to reveal the entertainment to an impatient
audience, and indeed the Draper family’s neighbours were about to
enjoy a grand entertainment at Jordan’s expense.
The
Drapers had only moved to the area four years previously, however, in
that period, Jordan’s attitude and behaviour had made him deeply
unpopular within the community, hence there was widespread
satisfaction, and measurable delight that this overgrown brat was
getting his well deserved comeuppance. The delight in no way
diminished the fact that the handsome young athlete was totally
naked.
Word
soon spread and people came hurrying out of their houses, whilst
others left work early and rushed home, so as not to miss the
spectacle.
As
we return to the scene of our moral tale, handsome 18 year old
Swimming champion Jordan was still in what many consider to be one
the most exposed and humiliating of spanking position, a position
which their mysterious new neighbour, the ranger, who had now
introduced himself as Caleb Tartarus, had referred to as a
“wheelbarrowin’”. That is to say, he was naked, face down between
his father’s knees with his own legs on either side of his dad’s
waist.
As
with most arrogant and conceited people, Jordan had a fragile ego and
a horror of being shamed or embarrassed in public. Therefore, this
ongoing humiliation was more than his sensitive pride could bear, but
he had to bear it. There was no avenue of escape open to him, even
if he had been able to struggle free from from his father’s grip, he
knew the gleefully applauding junior baseball team would wrestle him
to the ground and drag him beck! 
 
That
would just add to his total humiliation, a shaming which was being
hungrily enjoyed by the growing crowd of happy looking neighbours.
As
has been established in earlier chapter’s, Jordan’s bottom was no
less tender than his ego, and the pain caused by his fathers
relentless hand smacks was becoming equally intolerable. Not for the
first time in recent days Jordan’s well rounded smooth skinned, and
previously ivory white bottom, felt well and truly toasted.
Finally
The spanking came to an end, but sadly for Jordan and happily for his
neighbours and the watching schoolboys, his embarrassing ordeal was
nowhere near over.
“You
can get off now Jordan” said Jordan’s father giving the now rosy
red bottom a final pat. At which point, Jordan swiftly wriggled off
his fathers lap and leapt agilely to his feet. He was getting ready
to bolt out the door when he felt the ranger’s hand on his shoulder
“Not so fast youngun’” said Caleb in his characteristic lazy
drawl “Something tells me you have not been pulling your weight
around here! Have you boy?!” he grinned “I see your ol’ Dad was
about to pay these fine young gentlemen from the baseball team to
clean the garage, but it seems t’ me that chore should be down to
you! … whilst they get the money o’ course!”
“What
the …?” stammered Jordan, at the last instant stopping himself
from swearing, which he senses would not be a wise more. 
 
“I
am a’thinkin’ that it’s your job to be cleaning your Dad’s garage,
and there is no better time to start than now!” Caleb’s cruel grin
grew broader “You can start by cleaning this filthy floor …” he
reached in his pocket and produced a small pink toothbrush ”here
you go!” he said “you can use this!!”
at
that, the smiling onlookers burst into spontaneous laughter, at the
prospect of the town’s laziest jock having to clean a dirty garage
with a toothbrush. 
 
“WHAT?”
spluttered Jordan “You expect me to clean the floor …. and …
with THAT?!!”

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“It’ll
do the job, if’n you put some effort into it!” replied Caleb “now
get to it boy …. or I’ll be giving you more of what your good ol’
Dad just gave you, ‘sept, I guarantee I’ll do it a lot harder!!”
“B…but
… but … it will take hours with THAT!” protested Jordan.
“All
the more reason to get started now!” snarled Caleb, his previous
lazy joviality vanishing briefly from his face “On your hands and
knees boy, and start scrubbing!”
“Good
idea Ranger Tartarus” laughed Mr Draper producing a bucket of soapy
water, which he pad poured earlier, when he had planed to pay the
baseball players to clean the garage floor as part of their fund
raising “Here son use this!”
 
There
was clearly no means of escape, so, reluctantly, and with a heavy
heart Jordan lowered himself onto his hands and knees, dunked the
child size little toothbrush into the bucket, and began scrubbing the
dirty garage floor.
The
garage floor was dirtier than he had realised with years of embedded
grease, oil and dirt, which as very difficult to remove, no matter
how hard Jordan scrubbed. “Can’t I use something better than this
damn useless toothbrush?” he began to complain.
SWISH
WHACK!! .. Caleb delivered a stinking whack to Jordan’ upraised
bottom with the old fly swatter he had picked up earlier “Quit
complaining and put some effort in!” He snapped.
The
spectators all crowded around to get a better view of Jordan, naked
and humiliated, on the garage floor, with his shiny red, just
spanked, bottom on display.
“Get
that butt a’ yourn up in the air boy!” commanded the ranger “and
don’t ignore the corners!” he deliberately, and repeatedly directed
Jordan into positions where his bare butt and, on account of it’s
raised state, his tiny, tight and pink rectum were on full display to
the assembled crowd, knowing that this would add to Jordan’s
discomfort.
He
then made matter’s worse by adding “y’a know boy, they say when a
defeated baboon surrenders, it expresses it’s surrender by presenting
it’s backside to the vitcorious ape!” he laughed “so it seems
that right now you are the surrendering baboon! And I am the pack
leader!” … he laughed again “You make a damn pretty baboon
though I must say! Go on you lil’ defeated monkey, wave your red
butt and little rosebud at us!!” 
 
As
Caleb had correctly calculated, his words were yet another knife
thrust at Jordan’s sensitive ego, his shaming all the worse by having
attention drawn to his spanked ass and fully displayed butt crack! He
also seethed inwardly at being compared to a subservient ape exposing
it’s rear end to the alpha male of the pack, which is what the Ranger
clearly considered himself to be. Jordan attempted, not very
successfully, to lessen his feeling of humiliation by thinking about
the revenge he would take on the laughing ranger, as soon as he got a
chance.
It
took Jordan over six hours of hard work to finally clean the garage
floor to the ranger’s satisfaction, and for all those hours, Caleb
stood over him issuing orders and delivering whack after whack to his
already roasted bottom with the stinging fly swatter.
Although
the Baseball team eventually left the scene to get their dinners,
passers by, alerted to what was happening by the fast moving gossip,
still arrived to crowd around and watch, well into the late evening.
Poor
Jordan, things were not turning out well for him, and his worst ever
day would become a legend in his home town.
***********
It
was hours later, and Jordan was in a dark cavern, deep beneath the
earth deep beneath the earth’s crust, surrounded by crackling flames.
He was chained to a rock, which was getting hotter and hotter and
the flames came closer and closer. Desperately he struggled against
the shackles holding his wrists and ankles, by the could not free
himself.
Then
a figure entered, who he recognised immediately as Caleb the ranger,
although he had metamorphosed into a red skinned demon, with horns
and a long tail, which whisked back and forth as as he walked. In his
hand he carried a long handled pitch fork, the four pointed end of
which were on fire.
“What
is happening? ….. where am I?” cried the terrified Jordan.
When
the demon, which had once been the ranger, spoke, it did so with a
deep roar of a voice which sounded like an echo from hell “You are
in the Abyss Jordan Draper!” it snarled threateningly before
continuing “And I am the guardian of the Abyss. Sinners like you
are sent to me to be punished for the crimes committed in the mortal
world. I am here to torment, and punish, your little jock ass….”
it let out an evil gust of laughter, which was more a roar than a
laugh, before adding “FOR ETERNITY!!!”
It
then advanced towards Jordan holding the flaming towards him.
“GO
AWAY!!!” screamed Jordan in genuine terror “What are you going to
do with ….THAT??!!” 
 
“This!”
growled the demonic fiend, as he jabbed the flaming fork into
Jordan’s naked and upraised rump.
Jordan
screamed in agony as the sharp, pointed , and red hot spikes of the
fork jabbed into his tender bottom and the flames scorched his skin
“AAAAGGGHHHHH!!! …. AAAAAAAGGGHHH!!”
“FOR
ETERNITY!” roared the red demon “FOR ETERNITY!!” as he he
jabbed at Jordan with his flaming weapon again and again …
Jordan’s
body jerked from side to side as rolled from side to side of the bed,
he moaned and cried out in pain as he tried frantically to awake from
the terrible dreams, all featuring fiery assaults on his bare behind,
but he could not awake and the dreams persisted throughout the long
night. 
 
Across
the street, in his new home, Caleb Tartarus sat at his dining table,
a cruelly amused grin on his face, as he held the red hot tip of
burning cigarette after burning cigarette against the now blackened
behind of a plastic Ken doll, which bore a marked resemblance to
Jordan Draper.
On
the table lay a selection of photographs of Jordan, together with the
blue jean shorts which Jordan had discarded by the river back.
Finally
after stubbing out the last cigarette from the pack into the full
ashtray beside him, Caleb picked up a photo, showing Jordan shot from
behind, at a swimming event and in wet speedos. “I have plans for
you, pretty boy!” he murmured contentedly “plenty of plans ….!”
*********
 The
next morning Jordan was getting dressed and just beginning to pull on
a pair of tartan shorts, when he caught sight of his bare bottom in
the mirror. To his amazement it was snowy white and unmarked, gone
was the redness from the sunburn, gone were the multiple ant bites,
and gone were the bruises and marks left from the previous days
spanking.
How
was it possible that it had healed so quickly and so completely?, but
it had. Despite the punishment it had taken the day before, his
cute, tan line encircled, bottom was back to the white, smooth
skinned perfection it had been before the recent events had begun.
Across
the street, just out of Jordan’s earshot, a voice with a distinct
Hillbilly twang could be heard to mutter “As My Dear Mommy taught
me, you should never break your toys, especially the ones you want to
play with again!”
*****
Half
an hour later Jordan made his way downstairs, hoping to sneak out of
the house unseen. However, once again, he was out of luck, just as he
was about to slip out the back door, his father’s voice echoed down
the hall. “Come in here Jordan, I want to talk to you!”
Reluctantly,
and with a look of misery on his face, Jordan turned round and walked
into the living room, for where his father had called him. As he
entered the room he saw to his extreme annoyance that that he Dad was
not alone, as sitting on one of the sofas, now dressed in casual clothes and grinning broadly, was
Caleb the Ranger.
“Ah
Jordan”, said his father “The College Medic phoned earlier “He
would like to see you today, rather than tomorrow, to continue your
medication!”
“AWWW
No Dad!” moaned Jordon “Not Today, he just wants to stick me in
the butt with his God damn needles!”
“Profanity
Jordan!!” snapped his father “You must go, it is for your own
good, and as I have heard reports that you attempted to skip your
last appointment, our new neighbour Officer Tartarus here has very
kindly agreed to accompany you, and make sure you get there!”
Jordan’s
mouth fell open in shock, he struggle to protest but no words came.
“Hi
There Jordan” grinned Caleb the Ranger “I got a feelin’ you and
me’s going to be the best of buddies soon …”
To
be continued …..
***************