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
.
