Tag: jabbed in butt

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Justice For Joel (Part 3)

Joel
glowered at the group of, mostly bare chested young men, whom, his
uncle had just announced would be his workmates. To his city-boy
eyes, they all looked like a bunch of extras from some very uncool
and, no longer politically correct, 1970’s TV Western, and most
deffinatelynot one he wished to become a cast member in.
The
court had said nothing about him having to work as a ranch hand, and
he had no intention of doing so.
“I
‘ain’t no inbred hill-billy like them!” he snarled “’an I ‘ain’t
shovelling horse sh#t!”
He
swung round, intending to march back to the ranch house in protest,
but found that two of the ranch hands have moved behind him, blocking
his path. “Get outa’my fucking way you retards!” yelled Joel, his
attempt to hide his alarm by feigning anger betrayed by the shrill
note in his voice.
“Retards?
Huh?” replied Ash Amos, the marginally older of the two ranch hands
blocking his escape, a slow smile crossing his ruggedly handsome face
“That is not nice kid!”
“Don’t
call me kid you ….hick! … let me pass!” spat Joel
“You
are not going anywhere Kid!” replied Braden Garth, the younger of
the two men.
With
that, the two men roughly grabbed hold of Joel and, joined by a third
man, Jareth Hunter, pulled him down on top of a bail of hay before
beginning to undress him. At first Joel was stunned, not quite
realising what the men were doing, but as one man’s strong, work
calloused fingers began unbuttoning his tight blue jeans, realisation
struck him like a thunderbolt, and he started struggling and
protesting furiously.
Poor
Joel, fit, young and street smart he might be, but these men were
well used to strenuous work, and he was no match against the three of
them. Within moments, his jeans, sneakers, socks and shirt had been
stripped from him, and all that still protected his remaining dignity
were his, recently shoplifted, Hilfiger boxers, which his dad had
innocently packed for him.
Finally,
Joel struggled free clutching the waist band of his underpants in a
frantic attempt to avoid these also being stripped from him, but
tripped and fell with a heavy and undignified “Thump!” onto the
barn floor. This caused general laughter among the men, and even
Miles fought to suppress a smile.
Joel
clambered to his feet, and glanced quickly around but saw to his
dismay that all escape routes were blocked by grinning, and very
muscular farmhands.
“What
do you perverts want?” stammered Joel, attempting to sound tough,
and failing totally “give me my clothes back!”
“‘Perverts?’
…. ‘retards’ …’in-breeds’ … are we?” murmured Ash “Oh am I
going to enjoy this!!”
“En…
enjoy what?” shouted Joel, still failing to sound tough “What are
you going to …………?”
Ash
moved towards Joel with a swaggering step, the lazy but laconic grin
on his face sending an unwilling shiver down the younger man’s back.
He then spoke slowly, his country weathered drawl adding a menacing
emphasis to his words. “We are gonna’ spank your little city boy
bottom boy!” he said “’an we’re gonna’ spank it so long, and so
hard that you won’t be inclined to sit on it for quite some time!”
“Fuck
you!!” spluttered Joel “No way …. Fuck you!!”
Ash
leaned forward, his face only inches from Joel’s “No Kid!” his
voice like a low growl “If anyone here gets fucked, it won’t be
us!”
With
that, he grabbed Joel by the ear and dragged him across the barn to a
pile of hay bails, on which he sat down before pulling the struggling
and protesting younger man across his knee.
Once
Joel was firmly in place, Ash reached out took hold of the waist band
of Joel’s boxers and with one well practised jerk of his wrist,
pulled them down, revealing a bare bottom still pink from the earlier
attention Joel had received from Miles’ firm and very hard palm.
Ash
and the other men all grinned, delighted to see how cute, hair-free
and spankable Joel’s butt was, this was going to be even more fun
than they had thought.
Like
most bad gamblers, Joel had hit a streak of bad luck, and making his
luck even worse was being the owner of a bottom which people just
wanted to spank, and one which, as we have established previously was
particularly tender and sensitive.
Ash
lifted his hand high above his head and then brought it down with a
resounding WHACK! Across Joel’s once again exposed and vulnerable
behind.
The
other guys all let out a cheer as the crowded round to watch the
spectacle. Joel was not the first new ranch hand to suffer the
initiation, but he was by far the hottest looking, and, from what the
boss had told them, by far the most deserving.
Meanwhile,
Miles stood back and watched the action, a smile of quiet
satisfaction playing on his ruggedly handsome lips. Young Joel was
going to get the justice the court had ordered, and which he had, in
Miles’ eyes more than earned after the way the young jerk had treated
his father, Miles’ younger brother.
Miles
knew that he could depend on his fit and hearty workers to carry out
Judge Flinthard’s sentence, and supervise Joel, leaving him free to
run the ranch, and step in to administer additional discipline
himself when necessary.
He
would need to keep an eye on some of the guys, particularly Ash, to
ensure things didn’t get out of hand, but he was confident that all
would work well.
While
Josh yelled, struggled and made threats he was in no position to
carry out, Ash was now well in his stride spanking the unfortunate
Joel’s increasingly red behind, when he noticed the lad’s rubber
soled sneakers lying on the floor
“Hey
Braden Buddy” he drawled “hand me that there white shoe!”
The
handsome, sun bleached haired boy he had addressed, ran over grabbed
one of Joel’s sneakers and handed it to Ash.
Ash
tapped the sole of the sneaker against the palm of his hand and
smiled broadly “That will do the job just dandy!” he said
With
that, Ash returned to spanking the unfortunate Joel’s behind, this
time with the the young dude’s rubber soled sneaker, whilst Joel
yelled in pain and protest, and the other men cheered in delighted
approval.
 
“Carry
on doing what you are doing boys” interjected Miles. “That is
just what the court ordered!”
Finally,
Ash pushed Joel off his knee “Time for you to start working Kid!”
he barked. He picked up one of the pitchforks which the men had been
using and held it out to Joel “Not get to work Kid!”
“Fu
….” spat Joel, wisely stopping himself at the last second
“You
want more!!” demanded Ash, raising an eyebrow in an exaggerated
quizzical expression.
A
sullen glower on his face Joel snatched the fork and made a half
hearted attempt at moving some loose hay around. One of the men,
Ivan Cooper called out “You got a lot to learn kid, but we’re here
to teach you!” at which all the other men roared with laughter, at
the shared Joke, which Joel failed to understand.
Miles
picked up Joel’s discarded clothes “I’ll take these back to the
ranch” he said “If you want the right to wear clothes again Joel,
you are going to have to earn it!!”
Joel
threw a furious look at his Uncle, the humiliating realisation that
he would most likely be bare butt naked for days, possibly weeks
searing through his already bruised ego. However, he could see from
the expression on Miles’ face that it was pointless to argue.
He
turned away from the group of men and continued to jab at the mud
outside of the barn. By turning his back, of course, his shiny red,
and well spanked bottom was fully displayed, resulting in whoops of
delight from the men.
“Now
that’s what I want to see!” said Miles pointing at the naked
youth’s glowing bottom “That is what the good judge ordered!” he
turned to the men “It will be your job to ensure that it is a nice,
healthy pink, just like that at the end of every shift. Can you do
that for me?!”
“We
sure can Boss!” grinned Ash Amos “You can rely on us”
“That’s
what I like to hear!” continued Miles “Now I need to make some
calls, so I will leave you guys in charge!”
With
that, Miles left them and made his way back to the ranch house
carrying Joel’s clothes, with a satisfied smile on his face.
The
men stood around watching Joel as he continued to dig at the dirt
outside the barn, unsure what he was supposed to be doing, angry he
had to do anything, but keen not to provoke another spanking.
Hadley
Granger had been standing and observing events, but now he decided to
join the fun “You’ll get nothing done at that speed fella’” he
drawled “put some effort into it, will ya’”
He
picked up a second discarded pitchfork and gave Joel a quick jab in
his very sore and tender bottom.
Joel
gave a yell of pain, dropped the pitchfork, and leapt round clutching
his behind “You f##king red-neck c##t!!” he snarled “Don’t you
f##king dare!!”
“Don’t
… ahem .. dare what Fella’?” grinned Hadley
“Don’t
you dare jab my ass with that f##king thing, you moron!” snapped
Joel furiously “Do that again and I’ll put you on a f##king slab!”
“You’ll
what?” replied an incredulous Hadley “We’ll see about that!”
“Well
well!” Grinned Ash who had been watching with barely concealed
amusement “It seems this youngun’ has not learned his lesson!”
“Seems
he needs more teaching!” replied Hadley making a movement towards
Joel with his pitchfork
“Fuck
you!” snapped Joel, jumping away from the sharp points, only to
discover that he had jumped straight into the firm gripping hands of
Braden and Jareth, who had quietly circled round behind him. “Let
go of me you ……!”
“Yup!”
growled Jareth “he sure needs more teachin’!”
The
two men who had hold of Joel pulled him, wriggling and swearing into
the barn, followed by Ash and Hadley who picked up discarded
pitchforks as they did so.
Jareth
and Braden pushed Joel down onto some bails of hay, while Hadly took
a length of rope of the wall and cut it into two. He then handed one
to Braden, who, assisted with Ash, tied Joel’s hands behind his back.
Then Hadley and Jareth used one end of the other length of rope to
tie Joel’s ankles together, after which he threw the other either
ends of the rope over a beam.
It
was at this point that Joel, who, until then had been struggling and
cussing began to realise that he was seriously outnumbered and that
he had made a bad miscalculation.
He
tried to reason with the men, but his attempt at conciliation had
come too late and the other ranch hands were now determined to “teach
him a lesson” as they had promised.
Braden
and Hadley both took hold of an end of the rope and began to pull,
lifting Joel’s feet, legs and then his bright pink bottom off the
bail of hay and raising it into the air.
“Now
that is a perfect target!” chuckled Ash
“W
…what are you going to do?” stammered a now very alarmed Joel
“We
decided that its time you get the point kid” replied Ash “Ah
…My bad!” he corrected himself “make that points!”
The
guys all began to approach the, now diaper positioned Joel, with
their pitchforks aimed towards his uplifted bottom.
“NOOO!!”
yelled Joel, please don’t!! …. I’m sorry”
“Too
late kid!” replied Ash as he jabbed at Joel’s behind with his fork
“We are gonna’ stick you like a little piggy!”
With
that the laughing farm hands began to jab at Joel with their forks.
This was not the first time they had punished a lazy or careless
ranch hand in this way, and although they were all now quite pissed
with Joel, they had no intention of injuring him, or drawing any
blood, just to make his already very sore bottom hurt even more, and
to put Joel through a little more, in their view, well deserved,
discomfort and humiliation. 
 
“AAAAOOOWW!”
yelled Joel as Ash’s fork jabbed into his left butt cheek, pricking
his now very tender skin. Meanwhile Braden and Jareth pricked his
right butt cheek with their forks, causing Joel to yell again
“AAAAAAOOOOCH!!” ….”EEEEOOOWW!”
The
jabs were relativity gentle, compared to what muscular young men
wealding sharp objects could inflict, but because Joel’s bottom was
now so over-sensitive that the jabs hurt like fire.
Hadley
stood back a little, laughing as he watched his fellow ranch hands
jabbing at Joel. Then suddenly an idea struck him. Pulling a pair of
thick leather gloves from his pocket, and left the barn, and returned
moments later carrying a bunch of stinging nettles he had pulled from
where they grew, next to the fence outside.
“Here
guys” he said “I’ve had a better idea. We can really whack him
with these!”
Thee
guys all cheered with glee, as they each grabbed a hand full of
stinging nettles from Hadley’s bunch
“Oh
yeah!” Laughed Ash, “this will really give him a sting in the
tail!”
the
group then set about beating Joel with the stinging nettles, with all
the enthusiasm of a festival crowd attacking a Piñata, knowing that,
unlike the pitchforks, they could now really punish the cute blonde
jerk’s deserving bottom, making sure it would sting for hours without
causing lasting damage.
After
all, as Ash said later, “you should never break toys which you plan
to play with again ,
The
so called diaper position was not only humiliating, but it ensured
that Joel’s most private and tender areas were totally exposed and
vulnerable, and the guys took full advantage of that exposure and
vulnerability.
Joel
screamed and yelled in pain and outrage as the fiery tingling and
burning caused of the cruel nettles spread across his butt cheeks and
upper thighs livening up the tenderness and hypersensitivity
resulting from the earlier spankings, until each stinging swat burned
like a red hot coal.
His
bottom would sting for hours, and this was just the start, Joel’s
time in the country would be long and uncomfortable.
TO
BE CONTINUED
Posted on

The Shamed Peeper

 
The
pain from the wasp stings may have faded into a painful and
embarrassing memory, but Darrell Todd’s punishment was not over.
Deciding
that Darrell needed to be taught a proper lesson. Sam Burgess had
taken it upon himself to phone Darrell’s father and tell him all
about his 19 year old son’s attempt to spy into the girl’s showers.
Marshall
Todd, was deeply shocked, shamed, appalled and infuriated in equal
measure to hear what his son had been up to. Punishment was
required, and that punishment should be severe and memorable
A
devout member of his local church, Marshall had never chastised his
children physically, however, after speaking with the new pastor he
had undergone a significant change in views “Thou shalt
beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell!”
he muttered, angrily quoting from Proverbs, as the Pastor had done
“For what son is not disciplined by his father?”
The
gentle approach had clearly failed with Darrell, and, 19 or not, it
was time his son experienced the discipline he had been missing.
Darrell
guessed something was wrong when he saw his Dad’s face as he picked
him up from the bus stop, and drove him home in total silence.
However, when he was ordered to bed and told he would be dealt with
in the morning, he knew he was in serious trouble.
The
next morning Darrell awoke, took a shower and headed downstairs for
breakfast, only to find his father waiting for him at the foot of the
stairs. Marshall ordered his sun into the study and told him to drop
his shorts “You will not need them for a while!” he said before
pulling the protesting Darrell over his knee.
“I
know all about what you did at camp!” shouted the angry man.
“Dad!
You can’t do this to me, I am 19!” cried Darrell
“I
am going to do a lot worse to you!” Marshall snapped before
proceeding to give his unlucky son a long hard OTK spanking.
This
was, if anything almost as embarrassing to Darrell as what had
happened at Camp, being spanked bare bottom, over his father’s knee
like some little kid, was totally humiliating for him. To make
matters worse, he realised that his Dad had left the study door open,
and his younger brother, Tyler, was watching his punishment with a
broad, ear to ear, grin on his face.
However,
this was only the beginning of Darrell’s punishment. His Dad had
decided that to reinforce the message, his son should be shamed and
humiliated.
He
continued spanking his son until his bottom was bright red, and would
remain so for some hours, and then pushed him off his knee. He stood
up, picked up a jockstrap which was on the table and tossed it to
Darrell “Put that on!” he demanded.
Darrell
was confused, but did as he was told, he then reached for his shorts.
“No!”
Snapped Marshall, “You will not need those, leave them there and
come with me!”
Darrell
reluctantly followed his father as he led him out into the garden.
“Dad, people will see me!!” he whispered.
“That
is the idea!” Marshall replied. “Now I want you to get on that!”
he pointed to Darrell’s old bike. Darrell immediately noticed that a
sign had been taped to the back of the saddle, and, as he approached
it, he realised, to his dismay that it carried the statement:
I
HAVE BEEN A BAD BOY SO MY DAD HAS SPANKED MY BOTTOM
stencilled
onto it.
“W…hat’s
that for Dad?” stammered Darrell
“You
are going to ride round town, so that everyone can see that you have
received the punishment you deserve!” replied Mr Todd coldly …
“And to make sure nobody misses the fact you will wear this ….”
He
picked a large yellow card with the statement:
I
HAVE BEEN SPANKED
stencilled
onto it. The card was attached to a length of white cord, which
Marshall proceed to tie round Darrell’s middle, so the card sat
squarely on his back.
“This
is so humiliating!” wailed Darrell painfully aware that his younger
brother had followed them into the garden to watch.
“Humiliation
is exactly what you need!” replied Marshall, “I intend to punish
you in a manner you will not forget in a hurry! You will ride your
bike all around town six times, so that all of our neighbours can see
that you have been punished!”
“…but
… but!!” spluttered Darrell “That means they will all know that
I still get spanked …. I’m 19!!”
“That
is why you need a more severe punishment …. NOW GET ON THAT BIKE!”
Darrell
Reluctantly began to mount the bike, but then noticed that there were
three thumb tacks glued to the seat “I can’t sit on those!!” he
wailed
“They
are there to ensure that you keep your bottom raised, so that
everyone can see it!” replied his father “and see how red and
sore it is!”
“I
won’t do it!” protested Darrell
“Oh
yes you will” replied Marshall ”and I will be following in the
truck with your Grandpa’s size 14 slipper, and, if I see you trying
to hide yourself or take a detour, I will use it on you in the
street!!” he waved the large and scary looking slipper in front of
Darrell, who was sure it would sting like hell, and had no wish to
experience it.
“I
will then tie you over the hood of the truck and drive you round town
that way! So you decide!!”
With
a sinking heart, but knowing he had no option, Darrell climbed onto
his bike taking care to avoid the sharp points of the thumb tacks
glued to the saddle, and pointing unnervingly in the direction of his
bare, jockstrap framed, bottom.
Followed
by his Dad’s truck, Darrell slowly rode his bike down the drive and
into the main road. He had never felt so embarrassed and so exposed
in his life, it was only fear of what his father might do if he
didn’t obey which forced him on.
The
Todds’ house was just over half a mile from town and the road was
empty, so the first part of Darrell’s ordeal passed unobserved other
than by his father and Tyler, who accompanied Marshall Todd in the
truck. However, with mounting dread Darrell knew his relative
privacy would be short lived, …. and he was right!
On
reaching the town, the miserable 19 year old’s worst fears came true.
The streets were crowded with people, including many of Darrels
buddies and previous classmates. In panic he briefly thought of
turning round and making his escape, but then he remembered the
oversized slipper sitting on the dashboard of his father’s truck, and
realised there was no escape.
At
first nobody took any notice of the boy on the bike, but then one of
the football team read the notice on Darrel’s back then spotted
Darrell’s bare and still very red bottom and let out a “Whoop” of
glee, alerting others that there was something to see.
Then
the shouts, whistles and catcalls began, as passers by stopped to
stare point and take photographs of the disgraced Darren, riding his
bike down the street, his bare and spanked bottom raised and fully
displayed for all to enjoy.
This
would continue for the next two hours, as Darrell rode back and forth
through the town, knowing that his humiliation would be remembered
and laughed about by everyone who saw it, for years to come.
From
time to time his legs grew tired and his bottom began lowering
towards the saddle, only to spring back up again as the sharp tips of
the thumb tacks pricked his skin.
Was
this an appropriate punishment for what he had done? who can say, but
he certainly never tried peeping into the girls’ showers again!!
Posted on

Crosby’s shots

 

After
receiving a painful injection in each bottom cheek, unlucky Crosby
gets spanked, caned and then spanked again!

Scenes
from “Tales from the Headmaster’s study 11 – Wheals of Misfortune
By Stingpictures.tv
Posted on

Sore Bottomed Guys – The Relaunch

Sore
Bottomed Guys – The Relaunch
Hi
I plan to recommence posting to this blog in the near future,
I
stopped at the end of last year, partly for personal reasons, but
also as there seemed to be insufficient interest to justify the
amount of work involved.
However,
over the last few months I have received a number of e-mails asking
he to start again, and assuring me that there are a lot of people who
do enjoy seeing fantasy pictures of handsome, and unlucky straight
guys with very sore bottoms. So I have decided to start again.
I
have a number of projects I as working on these include a new “Sting
of the Jungle”, in which the very deserving Boy continues to feel
that sting in his cute 18 year old bottom, and a couple of equally
deserving and unlucky, US based guys, who will not spend much time
sitting down.
I
also plan to turn my hand to writing illustrated fiction involving
sore bottomed guys, but more of that in due course.
In
addition, as in the past, there will be individual images, and short
picture stories. In this respect all suggestions are welcome, these
should be fantasy suggestions which do not feature blood, death or
permanent injury, although any of the “Sore butt themes” in the right hand colum, or similar things which you think up, would be fine. I can’t promise I will illustrate all suggestions,
but we all enjoy reading visitor’s ideas.
In
future, I will post a weekly discussion post where visitors can leave
comments, fantasies and suggestions, and, of course, you can always
leave comments beneath individual postings.
So,
let’s kick things off with this one!!
What
would you like to see happen to this unlucky lad? (apart from what
has already happened to him) Let your imaginations run wild and leave
any suggestions you have in the comments section below this posting. 

Alternatively, you can email your comments and suggestions, about this lad, or another unlucky guy to dnrsh730@googlemail.com 

  

Posted on

An Unlucky Tumble / Officer Dickman’s Promise

Officer Dickman was lecturing young Randall Taylor about Park etiquette “Now listen Boy, I don’t care if you are 18! I’ve told you before, if I catch you Skateboarding in the Botanical Gardens again, I’m going to put you across my knee and spank your little bare bottom so hard and so long, you you won’t be able to sit down this side of Thanksgiving! and then only on a foam cushion!!” 
“No Sweat Officer Dick ,,,,man!” replied Randall, almost succeeding in disguising his insolence “I don’t skateboard no more, that’s kid’s stuff!” 
“I hope so boy, as I am a man with a hard hand who never breaks his word!”
Randall, however, was not a man who’s word could be trusted, as soon as the policeman left, he was back on his skateboard,    hurtling round the bark, frightening elderly visitors and damaging flower displays 

     


However, naughty boys learn painful lessons and one unlucky tumble sent the deserving lad flying towards a particularly uncomfortable landing!

It to a doctor and two nurses three hours to remove all the cactus thorns from Randall’s well punctured bottom, while the 18 year old hoodlum yelled, cried and hollered like a three year old.

 

But that was nothing like the noise Randall made when Officer Dickman kept his word!!
___________________________________

If anyone would like to write a better story to match these pictures (or maybe suggest a sequel) please add a comment below

Posted on

Caption Picture 1

Here is a picture to get
your imaginations going. Can any of you think of a caption for this
picture or would you like to share what you think the story behind it is
– and maybe what happens next.  Please let us know by leaving a comment
below.
Posted on

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 2)


Click here for Sting of the Jungle III (part1)
 

Boy
felt very sorry for himself, he had not been able to sit down
comfortably for days, after Tarzan had spanked him immediately after
removing the porcupine quills from his bottom. To make matters worse
all his loincloths had been confiscated because he kept losing them,
therefore, he was naked at all times, which was not only
embarrassing but he also felt very vulnerable, especially since he
had discovered that the object he had seen Tarzan whittling was a
paddle.
If
anything, night time was even worse, as the sting in his bottom kept
him awake, so he just lay there thinking about how awful it was to be
stuck in a boring jungle with a strong armed muscle man who believed
the answer to any problem was to spank it. He determined that, as
soon as he could, he would escape to America and live in a city,
where he could wear clothes and never get spanked again.

However,
he would keep that plan a secret, he didn’t wish to give Tarzan any reason to make his bottom any sorer than it already was.

Luckily Boy
was young, and the young heal quickly, so within a few days his
bottom returned to an unspanked and, rather delightful like pink
shade. Once again as the sting in his tail faded, so did his self-seeking resolve to be good. He was just about to sneak off and find
somewhere private, where he could jack off, when he heard Tarzan
calling for him.
“Damn,
what’s that jerk want now?” he thought. 

He considered hiding,
however, the memory of the last spanking had not sufficiently faded
for him to risk another one just yet. Adopting a pose of nonchalance,
tinged with as much insolence as he dared, he sauntered into the
jungle clearing where Tarzan was waiting, his arrogant attitude
somewhat undermined by the fact that he was as naked as a baby.

Boy
grimaced at the sight of the two large empty containers at Tarzan’s
feet, as he knew they meant he would be ordered to carry out one of
his least favourite chores.
“The
barrel is almost empty again!” snapped the older man “I told you
to keep it full, or we will have nothing to drink or wash with! You
need to fill it up now”
The
sulky expression on Boy’s face expressed exactly how he felt about
this task. It would take ten containers to fill the water barrel,
that meant five trips to the river carrying heavy containers of
water.
“You
had better wear this” said Tarzan “holding out one of Boy’s
confiscated loincloths “In case the women from the village are
there.” he added “However, if you loose this one, you won’t be able to sit
down this side of the monsoon season!”
“Of
course I won’t loose it! sneered Boy hurriedly grasping at the first
vestige of dignity he’s been allowed in days “I am not stupid you
know!”
Tarzan
raised one eyebrow as he watched Boy hurriedly putting on the
loincloth, but decided to keep his council for the moment. The
older man grinned, he had a sneaking suspicion that boy’s pert and
perfectly formed bottom would be back over his knee, receiving
another well deserved spanking, once again in the very near future!

-/-
It
was a hot day and, despite being remarkably fit and athletic, by the
time Boy had completed two trips to the river and back carrying heavy
containers of water he was hot, sweaty, irritable and feeling in need of a
break. The cool river water looked very tempting, he decided to take
a quick swim before continuing his heavy task. Careful not to get the
loincloth wet, he stripped naked and left the precious garment by a
tree on the river bank before diving into the water for a brief
skinny dip.
He
did not notice that Hector, one of the chimpanzees which Tarzan had
raised from a baby, had followed him to the river, and was sitting on
the bank, watching him splashing about in the shallows.
The
chimp harboured a strong resentment for Boy, who had bullied it
cruelly for years, and as it observed the naked boy, oblivious to his
beauty but keenly aware of it’s animosity towards it’s sometime
tormentor, a plot began to form in Hector’s almost human brain.
A
highly intelligent creature, Hector understood a lot of human
language and the line “You won’t sit down ..” was a phrase it had
heard often enough to understand what it meant and to appreciate the
implied threat they held for it’s adversary’s bottom. It understood
that Tarzan had used the phrase in connection with the piece of cloth
he had given to Boy, and concluded that, were Boy to loose that piece
of cloth, Tarzan might inflict pain on Boy’s rump. If so, it would
be an outcome which the vengeful ape would find very pleasing indeed.
The
Chimpanzee hurried over to the loincloth and snatched it up, waving
it in the air and making loud hoots and screeches to attract Boy’s
attention.
Hearing
the noise, Buy spun round and spotted the chimp on the bank “What’s
that dumb ape doing?!” He thought, then he spotted the loincloth
gripped in Hector’s fist “Put that down you stupid fucking
monkey!” he yelled, but Hector just let out a chattering laugh and
scuttled off toward the woods, still carrying his trophy.
At that moment Boy
suddenly realised that his bottom was very bare and very, very
vulnerable
He
waded hastily to the bank, knowing he had to retrieve the loincloth
or he would be in for a serious spanking, he gulped, maybe Tarzan
would even use that damn paddle on him!
The
chimp scampered away through the long grass towards the jungle with
the naked Boy in hot pursuit desperate to retrieve his loincloth and
avoid a paddling.
Once
in the jungle, Hector looked back and impudently waved the loincloth
at Boy, as if taunting him.
“Damn
you, you little brute!” snarled the angry boy running towards the
monkey. Unfortunately, Boy was so intent on catching the animal he
did not watch where he was going, he tripped and fell forward into
the narrow crook of a tree.
Boys
continuing streak of bad luck was showing no signs of leaving him. To
his horror he found that when he attempted to free himself, he found
he could not, he was held tight in the tight gap between the trunk
and a branch, which gripped him firmly round the waist. He struggled
in an effort to get loose, but this merely made his predicament
worse, by pushing his front half forward whilst raising his peachy
bare bottom up and presenting it naked an exposed like a sacrificial
offering to a pagan god.
He
heard Hector’s shrill chatter transform into a mocking cackle and he
determined he would, one day slaughter that ape!
He
had been stuck in the vice like grasp on the tree for a few minutes
when he became aware of the sound of something approaching him from
behind. He stiffened in fear and a bead of sweat formed on his
forehead. Not all the predators in the jungle were tame, due to his position he was
unable to clime a tree to avoid sharp teeth and claws, whilst he knew
his lower half would appear a tempting feast for a hungry carnivore. 

In fact the approaching “thing” was two young men from the
village on the edge of the jungle, returning from an unsuccessful
hunting expedition.

The
first youth to enter the clearing stopped in amazement at the sight
which met him, a handsome white bottom and legs protruding from a
fork in a large wild fig tree. His surprise did not last for long,
there were only two semi naked white men this deep in the West
African jungle, and from one glance at the pert young bottom and
toned athletic legs he could be reasonably sure it wasn’t the more
bulky and muscular Tarzan.
Boy
was well known to the villagers, but, unlike the popular Tarzan, Boy
was not well liked. He was generally considered an arrogant and
selfish brat, whom they widely suspected spied on the village girls.
They all delighted in the stories of Boy’s many misfortunes, which
invariably resulted in Boy receiving a very sore bottom, which in
their view he richly deserved.
It
was no great surprise to find that Boy had got himself into yet
another embarrassing predicament, and the youth’s heart missed a
couple of beats at the prospect of this time being the one in a position to give Boy his sore
bottom.

Joined
by his companion, who exploded in giggles upon realising what an
opportunity for a bit of entertainment they had happened upon, the
two youths approached Boy’s exposed and vulnerable backside. The
first youth lifted his spear and jabbed first Boy’s left butt cheek
then the right one with the sharp point.
Boy
cried out in shock and pain, his first terrified thought being that
the sharp points were the teeth of a leopard , and then he heard the
very human sound of laughter and his fear turned to anger and
humiliation!
The
other youth joined in and both had some fun jabbing Boy’s sensitive
bottom with their sharp spears and laughing as their target squealed
in pain and outrage, threatening them with any amount of revenge he
was in no position to inflict.
The
youths eventually tired of that game, but they were not finished with
Boy by any means . Freeing him from the crook of the tree, they
immediately trussed him up like a turkey with hanging vines and proceeded to
hoist him into the air.  Whilst he hung helplessly before them they smeared his behind with fresh
honey from the honeycomb they carried with them for energy.

Laughing happily at Boy’s discomfort, the two youths then headed back to the village leaving Boy hanging from the vine.

At
first Boy did not understand the purpose of the honey, but it soon
became clear, as the sweet sticky substance attracted every stinging
insect in the vicinity, which all came swarming around his behind in a
frenzy of buzzing and stinging.
Boy
yelled and struggled as the as the tiny but toxic creatures attacked
him with vigour, covering his well jabbed and honey smeared bottom with painful
stings.
Boy’s
struggling snapped the vines by which he was hanging from the tree,
and he hurtled toward the hard jungle floor….
Where
he made a painful landing.
Boy
lept to his feel, clutching his tortured behind and let out a yell of
anguish, a not unfamiliar sound in that corner of the jungle.
The
loincloth briefly forgotten the red bottomed Boy made his way home. However, he
remembered it as soon as he met up with Tarzan and saw the look on
his face, and the paddle gripped in his hand. Boy knew instantly that
he was about to be spanked!
Boy
was not wrong, Tarzan was furious, not only has his miscreant ward
clearly lost his clothing again, but he had only filled a quarter of
the tank with water. To make matters worse when he had gone to the
river to find what was taking Boy so long, he had been just in time
to see the precious containers, which Boy had left on the bank
floating off down stream towards the mighty Congo river, where they would be lost forever
The
containers had come from a aircraft which had crashed a few years
earlier and would not be easy to replace that deep in the jungle.
Boy would have to carry water in banana leaves in future. However,
that punishment would come later, right now it was time for the especially crafted
paddle to be put to work. Tarzan strode forward grabbed hold of Boy,
slung the lad over his shoulder and headed towards a rock, where he
sat down and placed Boy firmly across his knee.
Boy
was then paddled from various angles, first on his back over Tarzan’s
knee with his legs in the air.

Then
bent over a fallen tree, his long athletic legs kicking helplessly behind him, as Hector the sadistic ape, shrieked with delight.
For
the next twenty minutes the sound of whacking echoed through the
jungle, as the birds and animals fell silent listening to the
familiar sound of Boy’s progressively more frantic cries.
Finally
it was over, Tarzan marched off into the jungle clutching the still
warm paddle in his hand, leaving a well punished Boy crouching on all
fours, his glowing red bottom sticking up in the air.
Hector,
the chimpanzee which had followed Boy when he returned to camp, and
happily watched while his enemy was punished, looked on, pleased, in
it’s almost human way, with it’s day’s work. 

About
to eat a banana, the sight of Boy’s fiery red spanked bottom and the
now exposed puckering portal between the cheeks, caused a more appropriate
use for the curved cylinder shaped fruit began to form in it’s mind,
a use which would add a final, uncomfortable, humiliation to Boy’s
catalogue of mishaps. 
Hector
waddled up to Boy, and with one swift movement, rammed the banana
firmly into Boy’s upraised anus, forcing it in until only a couple of
inches remained exposed, protruding from the tight orifice.
The expression on the ape’s face couldn’t have said more clearly, “Now you’re fucked asshole!” 

Boy
gasped in mortified horror as the hard and rather large alien object
invaded his most intimate parts, momentarily frozen in shock, shame
and humiliation. This had certainly not been a good day.

The End
Posted on

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 1)

 Part 1

Boy
was in a good mood, it had been over a week since the unfortunate
incident with the chilli paste and days since Tarzan last spanked
him. As always, as soon as the sting faded from Boy’s bottom, his
nineteen year old mind began to move on to misbehaviour, and all
promises of being good in future, no matter how genuinely they were
meant whilst the imprint of the older man’s palm still glowed on his
cheeks, began to fade together with the angry pink of his last
spanking.
After
resentfully hurrying through his obligatory chores, boy ran through
the jungle until he reached a tree which gave him a good vantage
point from which he could view the section of the river where the
village girls often went to bathe. His young loins throbbing with
testosterone, he was planning to jack off while spying on them.

 

 

However,
to his annoyance once he reached the top of the tree, he was just in
time to see two of the girls, fully dressed and walking away from the
river bank, their wet hair evidence he had arrived too late to view
their ablutions.
“Damn!”
he hissed “it was fucking Tarzan’s fault!” insisting that he
clear rocks, when he could instead have been getting his rocks off
peeping at naked women.
Well
there was no point in sitting up a tree with no entertainment, so he
decided to go somewhere private where he could relieve his
frustration. Taking hold of a hanging vine he launched himself into
the air, his lithe young body swinging effortlessly through the
trees. 
 

 

Unfortunately
for Boy, with his mind focused on his need to masturbate, he failed
to watch where he was going, and, it was only at the last moment that
he saw that he was swinging straight towards one of the long horned
cattle from the village, which had obviously wondered into the
jungle. He was swinging straight towards one of the animals horns.
Boy jerked the vine, in an attempt to avoid the animal, but it was to
late, and he was swinging too fast. He only had time to clench his
teeth, as his tender bottom hurtled towards the long sharp horn.

 

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHOOOOWW!!!”
yelled Boy as the hard and cruelly pointed tusk, shot between his
cheeks and roughly forced itself between the puckered pink lips of
his rectum, and up inside him, painfully stretching the tight and
narrow channel beyond. The experience was made even more
uncomfortable from the fact that Boy’s most intimate passageway was
still bruised from a recent, and very similar encounter with a rhino
and still extra sensitive from the Shamen’s hot chilli potion, which
Tarzan had mistakenly rubbed into it. (see part 2)
Tears
streaming from his watering eyes, Boy still had the presence of mind
to grip the vine the ine in an effort to prevent himself sliding
further onto the horn, and becoming totally impaled. However, his
efforts were assisted by the now enraged steer, who dislodged his
unwelcome burden from the end of his horn, before any serious damage
was done, as, with a violent shake of its head, he sent Boy flying
through the air and landing, heavily, and painfully on the hard
ground.

 

Boy
jumped to his feet, clasping his smarting behind, all thought of
masturbation replaced by the throbbing ache between his cheeks.
Boy’s
day had not started well, and it was about to get even worse.
*******

 

The
unhappy youth made his way home rubbing his sore bottom as he went,
he was feeling very sorry for himself. However, that feeling soon
gave way to a different emotion, one of intense nervousness, when he
spotted Tarzan ahead of him, and noticed that he was in the process
of whittling an odd looking wooden object, using a small, but very
sharp, knife. Boy had never seen an object like it before, it was a
flat piece of wood, probably half to three quarters of an inch thick,
narrow at one end, forming what appeared to be a handle. Running
down the centre of the wider end of the object were two rows of round
holes.

Although
Boy did not recognise the object, he had a reasonable idea as to its
potential application, and decided to would be wise to keep himself,
and, in particular, his sore little bottom, as far away from it as
possible.
He
decided that the best course of action would be to climb back up the
tree, and stay there for a while.
However,
Boy had only made it a short distance up the tree, when, for a second
time that day, his carelessness was to have a very painful outcome on
his young bottom.
  

 

Failing
to spot an African hornet’s nest, his bare foot accidentally kicked
it as he climbed past, shattering it into pieces and sending it’s
furious inhabitants into and angry, buzzing, frenzy . As is an angry
hornet’s way, their initial impulse was to sting the nearest object
they could find as revenge for the destruction of their home.

 

It
was Boy’s bad luck, that the nearest sentient object to the hornet’s
wrecked abode was his, very tempting and very exposed backside, which
was immediately spotted by a number of the irate hornets. The
immediately flew straight at it, and sunk their sharp acid filled
stingers into the tender flesh, sending shocks of electric pain
shooting deep into boy’s posterior, causing the lad to shriek in
horror and agony. 
 

 

Knowing
he had only seconds before the whole swarm was onto him, Boy had only
one option, which was to release his grip on the branch which was
holding him and let himself fall out of the tree. As he did so, a
branch snagged his loincloth, ripping it right off, and leaving him
falling naked towards the ground.

 

As
has, no doubt, by now been established Boy was not born under a
lucky star, and as fate would have it, just at that moment a crested
African porcupine was walking beneath the very tree from which was
making his rapid and, bare bottom foremost, descent. Compounding the
bad news, was the that said Porcupine was, at that moment seeking to
impress a nearby female of its species by splaying its sharp pointed
quills, which were pointing skyward in the very direction from which
Boy’s ill fated bottom was fast approaching.
Although
mercifully unaware of the prickly beast’s presence, Boy realised that
his landing was likely to be painful, so he grabbed hold of a vine in
the hope of slowing his fall. 
 

 

Although
this action probably saved him from serious and even permanent
injury, and the porcupine from almost certain death, it only slowed
his fall, which still ended in a painful landing, as the unlucky
miscreant ended up, as only he could, bestriding and sitting upon
the porcupine, its needle like quills jabbing into his hornet stung
bare bottom!
Tarzan
came running at the sound of Boy’s howls of distress, and quickly
helped the wailing lad off the back of the traumatised porcupine and
carried him back to the cave, where he kept the medicine and
supplies, and where he and and his young ward slept during the rainy
season.

 

For
the next hour Boy’s world focused on a ring of exquisite agony
surrounding his upturned, pin cushion resembling, bare bottom, as
Tarzan gently removed the mass of porcupine quills jabbed into it. In
its shock the creature had not fired its quills, and, thanks to the
vine slowing his landing, the quills were not, embedded very deeply
into Boy’s delicate behind, but removing them was still a long and,
for Boy, a painful process!!
As
mentioned previously, Boy had the added misfortune for someone quite
so accident prone, of having an exceptionally low pain with the
result that even low levels of discomfort were difficult for him to
endure with good grace. This discomfort was, of course, on a
different level altogether, and as result yelled and protested
non-stop. However, it was at the very point when Tarzan was the
removing the final quill, which was embedded more firmly that the
rest, and in a particularly sensitive area just millimetres from his
horn bruised anus, that Boy made the mistake which was to add
considerably to his woes.
“YEEEOWWCH!!”
he yelled “THAT HURT! YOU F##KING C##T!!”
Tarzan
reached forward and grabbed boy by the ear “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?”
He snarled “HOW DARE YOU?!!” with that he pulled boy to his feet
and then sat down on a rock, still gripping Boy firmly by the wrist.
“After I devote my valuable time to helping you, all you can do is
speak to me like that …….. You need to be taught some manners
young man!”

Boy
looked in Tarzan’s face and instantly recognised the determined
expression, as the horrific realisation of what his mentor was
planning began to dawn!
“No!”
cried Boy “Please Sir not THAT!!” he tried to pull away, but
Tarzan’s grip was like a steel trap, offering Boy no means of escape.
“Please don’t spank me Sir! My bottom is so sore!”
“You
should have thought of that, before you used that filthy language!”
growled Tarzan, pulling the struggling 19 year old over his lap “If
you think your bottom is sore now, just wait until I have finished
with it!”

 

With
that he delivered a mighty SMACK! to Boy’s bright red behind,
causing the lad to yelp in pain. “I don’t know where you …”
SMACK! “…learnt that language!…” SMACK! “…but I am going
to..” SMACK!! …”make sure…” SMACK! “…you never use it
…” SMACK!” “again!!” SMACK!! …SMACK!!”
“OWWW!!
…OUCH!! …STOP!” please stop!” protested the wriggling and
struggling Boy “STOP …YOUR FU…. YOUR KILLING ME!!”
“Oh
you’ll survive…” SMACK! “…you just won’t be able to…”
SMACK! “..sit down..” SMACK! “for a few..” SMACK! “..days!”
SMACK! … “Just think yourself lucky” SMACK! “I am not using
the new..” SMACK! “.. paddle I made..” earlier
Ignoring
Boy’s pleas Tarzan applied his leather like palm to Boy’s glowing
rump with vigour as a further thirty five smacks echoed around the
cave, accompanied by Boy’s increasingly tearful cries.

 

Finally
Tarzan stopped “I shall be soft with you, because you are already
sore” he snapped “however, if I ever hear you use that language
again, I won’t stop at fifty!” with that, he shoved the lad off
his lap, causing the unfortunate young man’s well spanked and
porcupine pricked behind to land hard on the stony floor, causing yet
another yell of pain.

 

Tarzan
then jumped to his feet “And as you have lost another loincloth!..”
he boomed “you will stay bare bottomed in future!!” he turned and
marched out of the cave leaving boy sitting on him battered behind,
whaling like a baby.
Boy
gingerly stood up, tears running down his face as his hands caressed
his severely punished and beacon red behind. Tarzan was right,
there would be no likelihood that he would be sitting down , and time
soon, and how humiliating to be bare bottomed at all times,
especially when his behind revealed the clear evidence of his
spanking.
He
hoped that there wouldn’t be any visitors to the camp for a while.

“I
just can’t get any worse than this” he sniffed feeling very sorry
for himself.
That,
of course, was where Boy was wrong. It could get worse, as he would
soon find out …….
To
be continued ….
( Sting of the Jungle III part 2 will be posted shortly)