Tag: spanking

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The Sting of the Jungle – Boy’s Return

 The
Sting of the Jungle -Boy’s Return

The
airplane was into it’s thirteenth hour of the flight across the
Atlantic, and Boy was now unbearably bored. True to form, he had also
made himself extraordinarily unpopular with the flight crew and his
fellow passengers with is arrogant and rude bad behaviour and
constant demands.
It
had reached the point where most of the other passengers had moved to
seats as far away from this handsome, practically naked but
chronically unpleasant young man.
Eventually,
when Boy could not bare the boredom any longer he called out to the
flight attendant “How much longer is this Goddam flight?!” he
demanded.
The
flight attendant looked at Boy with hardly disguised dislike “We
land in Kinshasa in an hour … S ..” she gritted her teeth “Sir!”
“No
you stupid moron!” snapped Boy “What time to we land at the
Jungle airport?”
“This
flight does not land at The Jungle airport” she replied “We fly
over the jungle, direct to Kinshasa”
“WHAT!!”
shouted Boy “I need to get off at the Jungle airport!!”
“We
can not land at the jungle” replied the attendant “this plane is
too large for the jungle runway!” she frowned with exasperation,
this was the most infuriating passenger she had ever encountered “It
is quite clear on your ticket that this is a non-stop flight, you
will need to get a connecting flight back to the jungle!”
Of
course, Boy had spent all the money he had managed with him when he
escaped from the city, and could not afford a second flight. With
characteristic truculance he decided to try and bully the flight crew
into landing at the jungle stop.”I demand to see the pilot!” he
shouted “I need to get off this plane in the jungle!!”
“You
can’t see the pilot!” sighed the attendant “He’s busy … you
know … flying the plane!”
“Take
me to him!” snapped boy, leaping from his seat and turning towards
the cockpit.
Realising
that Boy seemed serious, the flight attendant called over two male
flight attendants to assist her “This …….. passenger failed to
read his ticket correctly, and is demanding we drop him off in the
jungle!” she said.
The
two male attendants had been observing Boy’s rude and obnoxious
behaviour, ever since he started acting up after about an hour into
the flight, and new he was going to be difficult. However, at first
they began patiently trying to reason with him.
Sitting
in am aisle seat in the next row to Boy Herman Kettering had watched
the scene unfolding. As a gay man, despite Boy’s outrageous
behaviour, he could not fail to be struck by how hot physically the
young blonde hunk was. This was especially obvious given Boy’s
limited attire of only a jockstrap and a pair or white socks.
Herman
was also a keen collector of male spanking videos and a fan of the
JockSpank blog, so when Boy stood up his eye was immediately drawn to
the lad’s perfectly formed bare white bottom, framed with the straps
of his jockstrap, and he began to imagine all the different forms of
discipline he would just love to inflict of that tempting object.
It
was the ongoing curse of Boy’s life, that so many people
instinctively wanted to spank him.
Meanwhile
the two flight attendants were also both becoming drawn to the
prospect of an act of violence against Boy. Even for two men so well
used to dealing with difficult customers it was not long before they
were both totally exasperated with this semi-naked but highly self
opinionated youth.
Finally,
their exasperation turned to anger, when Boy actually attempted to
storm the cockpit demanding to speak to the pilot. The men grabbed
hold of him and began to drag him towards the back of the plane. It
was only then, too late that Boy began to understand that just maybe
he had again gone too far.
“Okay
fella’” snarled one of the men “You want to land in the jungle?
Well, we can arrange that!!” he was so angry that, whilst his
colleague held onto Boy, he literally ripped one of the attendant
seats from the wall, leaving the back portion of the seat still
screwed to the wall. The men then tied Boy to the seat in a sitting
position, with his, jockstrap framed, bare bottom sticking out of the
gap at the back where it had been pulled from the wall.
As
Boy struggled against the ropes attaching his wrists and thighs to
the seat, the men began attachomh a parachute to the chair arms.
“What the fuck ate you doing?!!!” yelled Boy.
The
men did not answer, but the look of thunderous fury on their faces
told him, that, whatever it was they were doing, he was not going to
like it!!
One
of the men proceeded to turn a handle which opened a hatch door in
the side of the aircraft and all three of them were hit by a powerful
gust of air.
“You
can’t be serious!!” stammered Boy, as he suddenly realised what was
being planned, but the men were deadly serious. If Boy wanted to land
in the jungle, they were only too happy to accommodate that wish,
however, the plane would not be landing there with him.
With
a powerful kick, delivered to the centre of Boy’s bottom, they sent
him, attached firmly to the chair frame, flying out of the side of
the plane into the open sky outside. 
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It
was lucky that the men had opened a hatch at the back of the plane,
so he avoided the danger of being hit by the wing or sucked into the
jet engine, but that was about the limit of Boy’s good luck, as to
the rest, his luck was very much erring to the side of bad!!.
The
kick had been hard enough to send him beyond the tail fin of the
aircraft as it zoomed past, but it had also been hard enough to be
very painful, especially as Boy’s bottom was still tender from the
tennis ball bombardment in had undergone less than 24 hours before.
As regular readers might have guessed, however, it would, of course,
be a lot more tender before the day was out.
The
aircraft was swiftly vanishing into the distant horizon, leaving boy
falling through the empty sky, firmly attached to the frame of the
seat to which the men had tied him.
Boy
had antagonised many people in his time, but this time it had reached
a point where the two flight attendants had been provoked to an act
which put boy at risk of death or serious injury, and that, so far,
was a first.
It
was clear to Boy that those risks were significant, it was also
obvious to him that he could not do a thing about it. The parachute
the men had used was designed to take the weight of an average adult,
however, the additional weight of the chair frame to which Boy was
tied was beyond it’s capacity. 
As a result, Boy was hurtling towards
the ground at an alarming speed.
The
descent picked up speed as Boy approached the jungle canopy, before
crashing through it, into the dark jungle below, tree branches
whipping against the terrified youth’s legs and exposed buttocks as
he fell through that. “OWW! …. OUCH!! …. OWW!” he yelled.
Suddenly,
about thirty feet from hitting the jungle floor, at what would have
been bone shattering speed, Boy’s fall was brought to a sudden
jarring halt, as the parachute became entangled in branches,
arresting his descent and leaving him dangling among the trees.
It
took Boy a few seconds to realise what had happened, and that he was
not a dead or, at least, shattered mess lying on the jungle floor, as
the flimsy parachute had saved him after all.
However,
before Boy was able to celebrate his good luck, an angry buzzing
sound behind him brought with it the horrifying realisation that, as
was usually the pattern of his life, his luck had not going to be as
good as it might otherwise have been.
Looking
back over his shoulder, with a deep sense of foreboding, he saw that
he was hanging next to an African wasps nest, nestling beneath the
tree branch from which his was hanging. To make matters infinitely
worse, he was positioned in such a way that his exposed bare bottom
was dangling mere centimetres from the entrance to the nest, from
which angry buzzing wasps were emerging in battle ready numbers and a
matching warlike attitude.
Having
been attacked by African wasps in the past, Boy knew how painful
their stings could be. A feeling of blind panic gripped him and he
frantically began attempting to free himself from the ropes which
held him trapped on the suspended chair frame.
Of
course, as a cooler mind might have warned him, struggling
frantically was the very worst thing he could have done, as it drew
the angry, but short sighted, insects’ attention to his exposed
bottom, which was exactly what had annoyed the in the first place.
They began buzzing around it making increasingly ferocious and
alarming noises.
First
one angry wasp, and then another landed on Boy’s tender pink butt
cheeks and jabbed their sharp stingers into his flesh, before
injecting a tiny but agonizing stream of fiery venom in to the
handsome but chronically unlucky youth.
Unlike
bees, which lose their stingers when they sting, and can, therefore,
only sting once, wasps stingers remain intact, enabling each wasp to
launch more than one attack, which the feisty little critters did
with resolute gusto.
As
the almost unbearable pain being inflicted on his cute little bare
tush surged through the handsome jungle boy’s lithe young body, Boy
yelled out in pain. His cries echoing through the deep green jungle
to be heard, a mile away, by someone to whom that voice, especially
when expressing pain, was very familiar.
Tarzan,
who was busily repairing the damage to his tree-house, caused by a
recent tropical storm, jumped to his feet uttering a single syllable
“Boy!”. He took hold of a vine, and launched himself into the
air, swinging through trees in the direction from which the yells and
cries were coming.
Mongito,
Cheetah the chimp’s son, also recognised the voice, and after
grabbing a certain wooden object, followed his master, vine swinging
through the jungle branches.
Meanwhile,
Boy continued to struggle with the ropes attaching his wrists to the
chair frame, his writhing now even more frantic and urgent than
before, spurred on by the singing insects attacking his exposed
posterior.
After
some further struggle, Boy’s hands were free, and he hurriedly
reached back in an effort to cover his behind with his now free
hands.
Again
Boy was to encounter the troublesome issue of his unfailing bad luck,
for by the very act of urgently grabbing the now stinging and wasp
venom peppered cheeks of his bottom, he had inadvertently spread
those cheeks revealing his most tender, sensitive and private
recesses nestling between the pert round globes.
This
action unintentionally granted one especially inquisitive wasp access
to that region of Boy’s anatomy which any straight boy, such as he
would prefer to keep to himself. This insect intruder made itself
particularly unwelcome when it jabbed it’s stinger into the puckering
pink button of Boy’s tiny anus and unleashed a stream of molten hot
venom.
The
shock of the wasp sting to his anus, sent an electric pulse through
him, causing him to jerk with such violence that the remaining ropes
attaching Boy’s thighs to the chair frame broke, removing the final
attachment which kept him dangling from the snagged parachute.
Of
course, Boy had not thought through the consequences of detaching
himself from the dangling chair!!! Suddenly he was tumbling from the
tree towards the jungle floor thirty feet below. He braced himself
for a heavy landing.
As
a regular reader of Boy’s misadventures will by now have gathered,
fate and coincidence tend to feature large within his life, and in
his case, both are, not to put too fine a point on it, a bit of a
b#tch!
As
fate would have it, there was a large patch of nettles at the foot of
the tree, and Boy plummeted butt first straight into it. This proved
to be a double edged sword, for whereas the nettles served to cushion
Boy’s fall and prevent serious injury, the sting of the nettles
caused Boy’s already wasp stung bottom to burn even more!
With
a yell which was close to a shriek, Boy leaped to his feet clutching
his throbbing and now bright pink bottom. He proceeded to jump up
and down making pitiful whimpering sounds through gritted teeth.
“Oh
man! That hurt!” he groaned out-loud to himself “Why do these
things keep happening to me?!!”
At
least the worst was over, he was back in the jungle, he was on the
ground, he had got away from the wasps and could avoid any more
nettles, the sting in his bottom would eventually fade, nothing
worse could now happen, or could it?
At
that moment, fate again interrupted his thoughts, with an answer to
his question, and not the one he was hoping for. A firm hand tapped
him on the shoulder and a familiar deep voice said “So Boy return
have he?!”
Boly
swung round to find the tall and very angry looking figure of Tarzan
standing behind him and knew instantly what that look on the face of
the older man foretold.
“I….I
…I!!!” he stammered, his usually sly but now strangely blank mind
frantically trying to think of an excuse for leaving the jungle and
flying away to another continent without permission or telling his
guardian he was going. But none came to him.
The
tender and caring side of Tarzan was deeply relieved that Boy was
back safe and relatively unhurt, however, his more dominant
disciplinarian, and, it has to be said, vaguely sadistic, side roared
with furious anger that his ward had disobeyed him and put himself at
great risk. He knew that a lesson had to be taught and learned.
Boy
could see exactly what Tarzan was thinking and desperately tried to
avoid the inevitable “Please don’t spank me Tarzan …. sir!!” he
stuttered, I have been stung on the butt by was .. er …. HORNETS
and stinging nettles, my ass is on fire!!!”
“GOOD!”
snapped Tarzan, “It’s no more than you deserve!!” he grabbed hold
of the unhappy Boy’s arm “And it’s about to get a lot worse!!”
With
that, he dragged Boy to a nearby bank, sat down and the pulled the
vainly protesting young hunk over his knee. “How dare Boy sneak off
to God knows where, and not send word for months?!!” he shouted
gruffly “Tarzan will teach Boy a lesson he not forget!!”
“No
please Tarzan!” cried Boy “I’ve learnt my lesson …. I’ve really
learnt my fucking lesson!”
“Boy
Language bad!” growled Tarzan, he lifted a massive paw like hand
and brought it down hard on Boy’s bare wasp and nettle stung bottom
with a resounding SMACK!!
AAAAOOOWWWW!!
Boy’s scream echoed through the jungle followed by a chattering
noise not unlike laughter from the trees full of monkeys nearby. 
Boy’s
scream was soon followed by many more as Tarzan proceeded to deliver
a very hard, and in Trazan’s opinion, well deserved bare bottom
spanking. His large leathery palms whacking down repeatedly on top
of still massively sensitive wasp and nettle stings.
Boy
kicked and struggle, but there was no escape from the jungle man’s
vice like grip.
Boy
has thought things could not get worse, but in fact they were about
to get a whole lot worse as at that moment Mongito, the helpful
chimp, arrived carrying Tarzan’s favourite paddle. The clever little
simian had correctly guessed that Tarzan might have use for the
paddle now that Boy had returned to the jungle.
“Well
done little friend!” cried Tarzan, reaching out and taking the
paddle “You know Tarzan have need for this!”
At
that moment Boy resolved that the monkey would die, as soon as the
big guy was not looking, the ape would be history, and it would have
a painful death that was for sure!!
Boy
did not have long to contemplate his planned revenge on Mongito, as
his mind was quickly occupied by something more immediate and
painful, as Tarzan pushed him down on his back, lifted his legs in
the air, placing him in the so called diaper position and proceeded
to paddle his already spanked and stung bottom.

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


I am re-posting this here because the story features a well spanked boy getting an inhection in his spanked bottom
___________
A Doctor Calls
Story and pictures:
*
Busy
on his rounds the last thing the local doctor needs is for his valuable
time to be wasted by naughty boys who want to take advantage of his
good nature.
*
His
first visit is to see James (Jirka Mendez) His mother called to say her
son seems to be very under the weather and has not gone to College as
usual. Actually James in not feeling bad at all and is shirking.

During
the doctors visit James unfortunately gets tempted and tries to steal
some money from his wallet. Of course he gets caught .

This boy is going to have to be dealt with! Some stronger medicine is needed. 
Perhaps a good spanking on his bare bottom with be therapeutic.

ADC (3)

James’s bottom may be a rosy red, but it could be redder, and it will be before the Doctor has finished his treatment
*

A few hard swats with the Doc’s ferule might just cure his kleptomania,

Certainly a vitamin shot after, straight in to that red punished bottom should restore his vitality, if nothing else!
*

ADC (14)a
James will not be sitting very comfortably in college for some time! Perhaps that will cure him!! 

Posted on

The Sting of The City – FULL VERSION (Episodes 1 to 3)

The
Sting of The City
Continuing
the “Sting of the Jungle” series

This
was previously posted in three instalments
It
had been a long flight across the Atlantic, during which Boy had not
made himself popular with the flight crew as he bounded around inside
of the aircraft, hanging from, the luggage lockers, constantly
demanding food, which he insisted on eating with his fingers, and
occasionally trying to peer up the female flight attendants’ skirts.
However,
to the intense excitement of Boy, and the relief of his fellow
passengers the plane finally landed at John F Kennedy airport in New
York.
Boy
had surprisingly little difficulty getting through customs and
immigration control. This was possibly due to the fact that his
loincloth was so short he was self evidently not smuggling anything,
and, by coincidence the staff on duty were either females or gay
males, all of whom were enchanted by his golden haired good looks and
had not had the opportunity to experience his less attractive
character traits.

Boy
had convincingly claimed that he was visiting relatives in New York
and would be returning to the jungle in a few weeks, and, although he
had no idea where his US relatives lived and had no intention of ever
returning to Africa, he had been believed and let through.
Therefore,
it was not long before he was walking into the arrivals lounge,
excitedly anticipating starting his new life in America, free of all
the jungle creatures, which all seemed intent on stinging his bottom.
Thrilled by his liberation, Boy at first failed to notice the
interest his near naked appearance was causing to those around him.
Dressed in nothing more than a skimpy loincloth, Boy certainly stood
out from the crowd.
However,
although some may have been shocked by his lack of clothing, for the
majority of observers his toned and athletic young body was an
unexpected site which engendered more feelings of admiration and lust
than disapproval.
Having
no US dollars to pay for a taxi, Boy had a long bare foot walk before
he eventually arrived in the city, and it was only then that he began
to notice the attention his appearance was causing. As he walked down
the street he suddenly realised that people were stopping to stare at
him, which made him feel uncomfortable and very exposed by comparison
with everyone else. 

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Distracted
by his discomfort, and unfamiliar with navigating city streets Boy
accidentally stepped into the road and jumped with a start as a
yellow cab almost hit him and it flashed past blaring it’s horn.
A
second cab, passing in the other direction actually brushed against
him, it’s side mirror catching his loincloth and tearing it from him
as it passed.
All
of a sudden Boy was totally naked standing in the middle of a crowded
New York street, surrounded, by people all staring, pointing and
laughing at him. 

Crushed by embarrassment, Boy clamped his hands
over his exposed groin, but could not cover his bare bottom, which
was now on full display.

Instantly
his jungle training came back to save him, with three huge bounds,
over the roofs of passing cars, he grabbed the side of a building,
and like the, ape trained, boy he was, began swiftly and deftly
climbing up the side of the towering structure.
Up
and up the side of the skyscraper he climbed, his well practised feet
and fingers finding tiny footholds in the seemingly sheer surface
until he was almost in the clouds, however, heights were no problem
for Boy, who had spent much of his time in the jungle canopy, he was
just happy to be out of the sight of the crowds below.
Boy
finally reached a penthouse roof garden at the top of one of the
towers where the foliage, albeit in large wooden plant boxes, gave
him a sense of home and security where he could hide from this
strange, clothes wearing world he had landed in.
Kneeling
behind a low wall, he peered over the edge watching city life rushing
on below him, and decided to wait for nightfall, when darkness would
enable him to hide from people as he hunted for some means of
covering his naked body.
Of
course, unlike the jungle, night in the city did not bring darkness,
if anything the lights from the streets and buildings made it even
brighter than daylight.
However,
Boy knew that he could not stay in his eyrie forever, and that he had
to scavenge for clothes and food, so eventually he began a careful
descent from the top of the building, climbing down the back of the
structure, where there was less direct light.
Once
reaching the ground he kept to the shadows and dark alleyways, until
he reached an empty side street leading off a larger street
consisting mainly of shops, which, as the shops were now closed, was
considerably less crowded than elsewhere in the city.
Boy
crept down the street fascinated by the array of clothes on sale,
until he saw, what he assumed to be, a very smart light grey designer
suit, which looked as it was in his size. The suit was similar to one
he had seen in a picture in an in flight magazine he had read on the
flight over.
In
the picture, the man in the suit had been surrounded by beautiful and
scantily clad women all gazing adoringly at him. Perhaps owning a
similar suit could gain Boy similar adoration from equally hot
chicks.
Moments
later the shop window shattered as a garbage bin, which boy had
easily broken free of it’s attachment to a nearby lamp post, smashed
through it. Boy jumped into the window, deftly avoiding the broken
glass, and quickly stripped the suit from the mannequin, before also
grabbing a shirt, tie and shoes which were also on display.
With
the stolen clothes under his arm, Boy sprinted off into the night.
***********
Once
he had clothes and with his innate guile and good looks, it did not
take Boy long to find a room in a shared apartment with a middle aged
man called Wesley Ritter, who was prepared to wait for the rent, if
he could watch boy showering. Boy thought this odd, but assumed it
was a “city folk thing”, and went along with it in exchange for
somewhere to live.
In
addition to housing Boy on the promise of future rent, Wesley used
his contacts to get Boy a job in brokerage firm in Lower Manhattan,
which was how Boy was to start his brief, and ill fated, career in
high finance.
Rechristening
himself as Guy, and wearing his stolen grey suit, Boy, with his
handsome blonde looks, and boyish charm was initially welcomed warmly
by his fellow workmates, especially with the females and gay men.
However,
it was not long before the less attractive side the Boy’s character
began to show itself. Free from the moderating influence of Tarzan’s
firm, hard. hand and even harder paddle, it was not long before Boy’s
arrogant, selfish and downright nasty behaviour had totally alienated
his co-workers.
Boy’s
bad behaviour extended to his leisure hours, when he wasn’t pursuing
women at city bars and nightclubs, he was using his jungle learned
athletic prowess to bully and humiliate weaker and less able people.
Being almost totally self interested, Boy did not realise how
unpopular he was making himself.
Among
those who had originally welcomed “Guy” warmly, but soon learned
better were Marc Temple and Kamil (Kam) Nowak, two gay men who, after
having met through work had recently moved together. Being gay, Marc
and Kam had initially been delighted by the newcomer’s handsome
appearance and athletic young body, however, this did not last long,
and they soon developed a strong dislike for their new co-worker,
albeit, while still considering him totally hot.
They
also soon realised that Guy was up to no good, as he was clearly
spending far more money than he could possibly be earning. Kam
worked in the firm’s IT department, so he was able to view Guy’s
computer records and discover that the young villain was syphoning
company funds into his own bank account.
“Ha!”
cried Marc when Kam showed him the evidence “Now we get to teach
that jerk a lesson!!
“Yes!”
smiled Kam, he is going to get what he deserves!”

***
It
was early Friday evening and most of the staff at the brokerage firm
where Boy now worked had left for the weekend. Usually Boy would
have been one of the first out the door, keen to spend his wages,
rent money, and undisclosed additional income in the clubs and bars
of the Upper West Side, enjoying the company of the scantily clad
girls and women who always crowed around him due to his good looks
and lavish spending habits.
However,
this Friday Boy had stayed late in the office, he had received a
mysterious memo instructing him to attend a special out of hours
meeting on the executive floor. Boy was curious to know what the
meeting was about, and why he had been invited. Arrogantly, and with
a startling lack of self awareness, he wondered if he was in line for
a promotion or bonus. Although, in truth, his standard of work could
hardly warrant a reward of any sort.
Had
he been so tardy and careless with his chores back in the jungle,
Tarzan would certainly have toasted his little bottom, however,
nothing like that was going to happen in the city, or so Boy thought.
Just
before six thirty boy took the elevator to the 18th floor,
the executive floor, where the meeting was due to take place, he
glanced at himself in the mirror, and was pleased he looked so hot
and handsome in his new, black, designer suit.
When
he was in the jungle, Boy had no interest in his appearance, but
since he had been in the city, and discovered how women responded to
his handsome looks, he had added personal vanity to his long list of
character flaws.
He
smiled to himself, confident that his appearance would impress the
bosses he was about to meet with.
What
Boy did not know, was that all the company executives were attending
a weekend team building seminar in Colorado, and the executive floor
was, therefore, unoccupied that evening.
When
the elevator arrived on the 18th Floor, Boy made his way
to the office where he had been told the meeting was to be held.
Expecting the room to be full of company bosses, he knocked on the
door rather than walking straight in.
“Come
in” said a strangely familiar voice.
Boy
entered the room and to his surprise, instead of seeing a room full
of a room full of company executives and bosses, as he had been
expecting, the only people there were, as he would put it, “that
weedy Marc Temple guy from the office and the Polish faggot from IT”.
Boy
was angry, he had stayed late in the office on a Friday hoping for a
reward or promotion, not to have a meeting with two insignificant
jerks. “What do you morons want?” he sneered.
“Ah
Guy!” smiled Marc “Thanks for accepting our invitation, we have
something we would like to show you.”
“Can’t
it wait until Monday? I have plans!”
“I
think you will want to see this now” replied Kam, pointing at a
computer screen.
Making
no effort to hide his irritation Boy stomped across the room, and
looked at the monitor Kam was indicating. At first the jumble of
data made no sense, but then as what he was looking at began to
become clear an icy chill ran down the handsome blonde lad’s spine.
The
data Kam was showing him detailed each time Boy had secretly syphoned
funds from the company account and paid them into his own bank
account. He had thought he had been so clever, by only diverting
small amounts each time, but Kam’s report had highlighted every time
he had done it.
“That’s
quite an amount you have been stealing from the company Guy”
grinned Kam, “Just under $30,000 in two months, …. you being so
greedy made it easier to spot”
“I
would guess that would be worth about five years in prison!” said
Marc, unable to hide the glee in his voice “Probably more given
your betrayal of trust!”
“Prison
won’t be fun!” murmured Kam “What with you being such a pretty
boy and all!” he laughed “Your little butt will get screwed by
every con in the joint!”
Boy
was stunned, he couldn’t believe that his genius plan had been so
easily detected. His initial reaction was that this was some sort of
shake down, and he began calculation how much of his ill gotten gains
he could offer these grinning fags to keep them quiet. The evidence
was to clear to deny, so he had to make a deal.
“Okay,
okay Guys!” he snapped, furious at being caught out, whilst trying
and failing to sound reasonable “how much do you want?”
“We
don’t want your money Guy” replied Marc “We want your butt!”
“Fuck
off!” Boy almost snarled “I’m not like that!”
“We
don’t want to fuck you fella’! … well, maybe another time”
laughed Kam “Right now we are going to spank you!”
Boy
stepped backward, as if struck, those were words he had hoped never
to hear again. “No chance you ….. you … fuck!!” he stammered
“That’s not happening!”
“Either
we spank you, or you are going to jail Guy!” sneered Marc
“Where
all the cons will be after you as their bitch!” added Kam
“Guys
… guys … lets be reasonable about this!” said a now very
nervous boy.
“Drop
your pants!” relied Marc picking up a wooden ruler from the desk,
and sitting down on a conveniently paced chair next to a desk overlooking Central Park “and then get over
my knee!”
Boy
could see from Marc’s expression that he was deadly serious, that
ruler looked as if it had the potential to inflict a lot of pain, but
there didn’t seem any way of avoiding being spanked with it. To his
horror he saw that Kam was holding a rubber soled carpet slipper,
which he had clearly brought with him for the purpose of spanking
Boy’s butt. Tarzan had once spanked him with an old slipper, and he
knew how much they could sting.
Reluctantly
Boy unbuttoned his suit pants and let them slip down to his knees.
“And
your underpants!” ordered Marc “drop them now”
Marc
and Kam looked on in barely concealed delight, as the now very
miserable Boy pushed his thumbs into the waistband of his white
cotton underpants and slowly lowered them, exposing his cock and
balls as he did so.
Marc’s
sadistic instincts were conflicted, whilst being impressed by the
size of Boys equipment, he had secretly hoped this blond hunk would
have a small cock which would add to the humiliation of its exposure,
yet, at the same time he relished the prospect of belittling and
punishing such a perfect, and well proportioned, specimen as the
beautiful young man, now standing before him with his underpants
around his knees.
“Now
get over my knee!” he snapped
“You
can go over mine next!” laughed Kam, smacking the slipper against
the palm of his hand.
“You
bastards will pay for this!” snarled Boy as, knowing he had no
other option but to obey, he shuffled angrily towards the sneering
Marc, and laying face down across his knee.
The
two men then took it in turn to spank Boy’s bare and, as ever, very
tender, bottom.
First
Marc gave him twenty four swinging swat with his wooden ruler, as Boy
struggled and kicked over his lad, and Kam stood watching.
Kam
then took Marc’s place and began whacking Boy with the rubber soled
slipper, as Marc watched, laughing and calling out encouragement as
he did so.
Boy
was seething with anger, he had left the jungle to escape from Tarzan
and the thousand different creatures which kept hurting his bare
bottom, and now here he was on the 18th floor of a New
York skyscraper, 4,000 miles from the jungle, getting his bare butt
spanked by two sniggering gay boys!!
After
he had finished spanking Boy with the Slipper, Kam followed by Marc
gave Boy a firm hand spanking, which, in both cases, culminated in a
rapid fire series of fast hard slaps to reinforce the message.
Throughout
the ordeal Boy was ordered to remove various items of clothing, until
at the end he stood totally naked before them clutching his sore and
well spanked bottom.
He
had hoped that, by escaping to the city he would never have a sore
bottom again, how wrong could he be?!!
“Have
you done?” he mumbled knowing, despite the growing fury in side him
that he now had no chance of regaining any dignity in front of these
two.
“Done?”
echoed Kam “Have we done?” the note of mockery in his voice so
obvious that Boy’s initial, and barely controlled impulse was to
knock his teeth down his throat.
“No
Guy” smiled Marc, “We haven’t ‘done’ … not close!”
“W…what
…. but you just spanked my ass!”
“One
little spanking, won’t cover what you’ve done!” he paused to enjoy
the pleasure of watching the horror spread across Boy’s handsome face
“We plan to spank you whenever, we feel like it, wherever we decide
to, and with whatever we chose!”
“And”
added Kam “I think we are going to feel like it quite often!”
“No!
You can’t do that …..!!” spluttered Boy
“Your
choice fella’” Replied Kam with a shrug “Either you take the
spankings, or you are going to prison!”
Of
course, Boy had no option gut to submit to the couple’s demands, and
over the next week he would receive at least on text or e-mail from
Marc or Kam instructing him to either stay late after work or meet
them in some unoccupied room within the office, such as one of the
the basement stock rooms, where he would receive yet another stinging
spanking.
Within
days boy’s behind was so well spanked and sore that the sting never
faded, and he literally could not sit down without discomfort.
By
the following Friday evening, as Boy lay face down on his bed trying
to cool down his burning bottom with fans and ice cubes he knew he
was going to have to take drastic action to bring this situation to
an end.
Boy’s
bad luck had followed him across the ocean, he was being blackmailed
by two men with genuinely sadistic instincts, and limited compassion.
The guys were clearly enjoying their sadistic pleasures and also
having such extensive power over him. He knew they would not stop and
that if he didn’t obey their orders they would make good their
threat, and enjoy doing it.
His
only option was to stop them, permanently.
************
Despite
the gun laws in New York, it had proved very easy for Boy to obtain a
gun. Even though he had only been in the country for a short time,
he had made some very shady acquaintances, including people happy to
supply him with a weapon and not ask any questions.
Therefore,
early the following Sunday morning, when he guessed that Marc and Kam
would still be in bed, he made his way to their down town apartment,
with a gun in his hand and murder on his mind.
***
Breaking
into Marc and Kam’s apartment was easy for Boy, because of his long
practised climbing skills he was able to reach an open window, which
would have challenged the most nimble cat burglar. However, he did
not have the common sense, or cunning, to match his ability to climb,
so it did not occur to him that there might be items on the window
sill, which would clatter noisily if knocked over, or that the two
men might have been expecting him.
Having
made enough noise to alert the most unsuspecting householder that
there might be an intruder, Boy crept into the hallway, hoping that
the men might be asleep and he still had the element of surprise. Of
course, he was out of luck.
Boy
froze as an amused voice behind him spoke “Good morning Guy!, I
wondered if you would pay us a visit. Now if you could drop that gun
I might not have to shoot you!”
Boy
turned round and saw a grinning Marc Temple standing behind him,
holding his own gun which was pointing straight at his groin. Boy’s
first instinct was to try and shoot Marc first, but realised just in
time that, before he had even had time to raise his gun, Marc would
almost certainly have time to fire a bullet into him, and from the
angle Marc was aiming it would be his much prized manhood which took
the impact.
Reluctantly
he loosened his grip on his gun and let it fall to the floor.
At
that moment, Kam appeared at the doorway, having apparently been in
the shower. “I see we have a visitor!” he said.
“A
visitor who was planning something very nasty!” replied Marc
looking down at Boy’s discarded gun “But, don’t worry Guy, we
forgive you, don’t we Kam?”
Kam
raised an eyebrow quizzically, not sure what Marc had in mind.
“In
fact”, continued Marc, “To prove there are no grudges, we are
going to give you a tennis lesson!”
“What
the fuck are you talking about?” sneered Boy, keen not to show any
fear.
“You’ll
see!” replied Marc “but first, you won’t need your clothes …
now strip”
Reluctantly,
and glowering furiously Boy obeyed, removing his t-shirt, shorts and
sneakers, leaving only his jockstrap and socks.
“Great!”
laughed Marc “Now lets go play tennis” he motioned with his gun,
pointing to a door at the end of the hall.
“Don’t
start without me!” chuckled Kam hurrying into the bedroom to get
dressed, “this should be fun!”
A
very unhappy and apprehensive Boy walked slowly towards the door
which Marc had indicated. Upon opening it he saw a narrow staircase
leading downwards.
“one
real bonus to our apartment! Said Marc “is that we have sole access
to and use of the basement which we intend to convert into our …….
er … games room!” he again gesticulated with his gun “The
janitor is not around at weekends, so we will not be disturbed. Go
on, you can lead the way!”
Boy,
followed by Marc, walked down the stairs, which, after passing three
sealed doors to other floors in the building, led into a large and
mostly empty cellar.
“Roll
that barrel into the middle of the room!” ordered Marc, speaking
with a newly dominant tone, and pointing to an old wooden barrel by
the wall.
“What
for?” asked Boy grudgingly
“Do
as you are told, if you don’t want a lead implant!” shouted Marc
aiming the gun at Boy’s groin again.
The
barrel of the gun and the clear threat in Marc’s voice was all the
incentive Boy needed to do as he was told. He tipped the barrel on
it’s side and rolled it top the centre of the room. As he was doing
so they were joined by a barefoot Kam, who had hastily donned a
T-shirt and jeans.
Once
the barrel was in place the men ordered Boy to lie face down over it
and then proceeded to tie him over it with ropes which were
conveniently lying by the wall. While doing so, they tightened the
ropes around Boy’s legs, so that his jockstrap framed bottom was
spread and exposed. Boy could feel the cold air on his most intimate
parts and cringed knowing his light anus was now fully visible to
these two gay men.
“Ever
heard the expression ‘we’ve got you over a barrel’ Guy?” asked Marc
with a grin “well, now it’s for real, and we can do whatever we
want!”
Boy’s
mind raced, imagining what they might have planned for him, every
option which occurred to him more frightening and unpleasant that the
previous one. None, however, came close to what the men actually had
in store for him.
To
his horror, Boy heard a rumbling sound, as some large contraption on
wheels was pulled across the room. In vain he tried to peer over his
shoulder in order to see what had been placed behind him, but because
of the way he was tied down he was unable to look back far enough to
see what was there!
“W…What’s
that?” he asked, unable to control the tremor in his voice “What
are you doing?”
“It’s
a tennis ball machine!” replied Marc “we use it to help improve
our swing!”
“You
have probably noticed we have quite effective swings!” added Kam
“It’s
a clever little machine, it shoots out tennis balls which we have to
hit with out racquets”. Explained Marc, “You have to be fast, as
the balls travel at a speed … especially when I turn it up to
maximum! ….. allow me to demonstrate!”
He
pressed a button on a control pad, and a ball shot out of the
contraption behind Boy and hit him with a hard “WHAM!” on his
upraised behind.
“AAAOWCH!”
yelled Boy
“See
what I mean!” smiled Marc “Now we can play a game, however, as
you haven’t got a racquet, you can use your butt to stop the balls!”
He pressed the button again sending another ball hurting towards Boy,
and bouncing off his bare bottom with a loud “THWACK!”
“As
I said I can vary the speed, and if I set it on automatic it will
shoot out a ball every five seconds!!” he pressed the button again
and another ball whammed into Boy’s butt cheek, leaving a circular
red mark next to the previous two. “However, we might do that
later, for now we will keep the controls on ‘Manual’ so we can test
our aim!”
“Stop
it you Bastards!” yelled Boy “That fucking hurt!”
“And
this will hurt even more!” replied Marc as he pushed the button
twice in succession, sending two balls hurtling out out of the
machine, one after the other and hitting Boy’s behind on the same
spot, a fraction of a second apart.
“what
you were planning to do to us, with that gun, was a lot worse than
we are doing to you!” shouted Kam “so you deserve this!” He
turned to Marc, “Give me the control, it’s my turn!”
Marc
handed him the control, and Kam, who, in turn, fired a series of
tennis balls at Boy’s now very sore bottom
“And
you present such a tempting target!” added Marc
“I
spot an even more tempting target!” laughed Kam, pointing at Boy’s
little pink anus which was exposed due to the way boy’s legs and butt
cheeks were held apart by the ropes. “How do I aim this thing?”
“use
the blue dial, next to the red button!” replied Marc “it controls
the angle of the pipe the balls come out of!”
Kam
moved the dial slightly, as instructed, and pressed the button,
sending a hard round tennis ball, shooting towards Boy and hitting
him hard in the middle of his right butt cheek.
“Damn
Missed!”
He
tried again, but this time succeeded only in hitting the top of Boy’s
thigh, just where it connected with his left butt cheek, this was an
especially sensitive area and Boy screamed in pain.
“Here,
give it to me!” said Marc “let me do it!”
Taking
the control from Kam, Marc fiddled with the dial and again pressed
the button, but aiming the device at such a small, tight target was
more difficult than he thought and again, one tennis ball missile
after another whammed into the reddening cheeks of Boy’s bare bottom.
“Damn
thing!” he muttered “It’s designed to shoot the ball out at
different angles to challenge the player, but I should be able to aim
it!”
He
tried again, gently moving the dial to one side, and held it still
while he pressed the button with a free finger. This time the ball
was right on target, it shot out of the funnel at the front of the
machine, hurtled through the air and collided with Boy’s delicate
puckering portal with a bruising “BAM!” sending an electric like
shock of pain shooting through Boy, from his prostate to his jaw.
Boy
yelled in agony, as the two sadists cheered in delight. “Bullseye!”
yelled Marc “He will have felt that!”
Let
me have another try laughed Kam, reaching for the control.
Boy
now realised that Marc and Kam were enjoying themselves, and were not
going to stop, he was either going to get out of this situation, or
these men were going to do him serious injury, or maybe worse. He
knew that many young men went missing each year in America, and
frantically wondered how many of them had fallen victim to the likes
of these two.
Summoning
up all the strength in his arms, developed over his years growing up
climbing trees and swinging on vines, he strained his muscles and
pulled on the ropes attaching him to the barrel.
At
that moment, Kam pressed the controls and sent another tennis ball
flying at Boy’s behind. Although this ball, again missed his anus,
it bounced off his left cheek with a violent “Thud!”. The blow
sent a searing surge of pain shooting through his body and, as if by
a miracle, the impact, gave him the extra strength he needed to break
the ropes holding his wrists and ankles and freeing him.
He
leapt to his feet and swung round to face the men, and, as he did so,
realised that Marc no longer had his gun in his hand. Confident that
Boy could not escape, Marc had placed it on a table at the side of
the room, and now both Marc and Boy dived for it.
By
far the more agile, Boy reached the gun first, grabbing it he turned
to face the other two.
“I
should kill you bastards!” he hissed
“Do
that, and you really will go to prison Guy!”
“No
I won’t, I am going home!” snarled Boy “fuck this damn city!”
he paused “Give me your wallets!”
With
the weapon pointed at them, the men had no option other than to obey
and handed over their billfolds. Boy quickly rifled the wallets with
one hand, whilst keeping the two angry men at gunpoint with the other
before stuffing a wad of notes and two credit cards into the front
pouch of his jockstrap.
He
then ordered Kam to tie up Marc, before tying up Kam himself, he
couldn’t allow the guys to call the police before he had made his
escape.
Leaving
Mike and Kam tied to chairs, where they would remain until the
janitor arrived the next day, boy climbed out of the basement window
and ran off down the street, causing a lot of surprised glances given
his scanty attire and bright red bottom.
Two
hours later. Boy was at the airport, holding a one way ticket
purchased with one of the men’s credit cards, and queueing for the
first flight back across the ocean to the relative safety of the
jungle.
________________
The
Sting of the jungle will continue.
Posted on

The Sting of the City (Part 2)

Continuing
the Sting of the Jungle Series
It
was early Friday evening and most of the staff at the brokerage firm
where Boy now worked had left for the weekend. Usually Boy would
have been one of the first out the door, keen to spend his wages,
rent money, and undisclosed additional income in the clubs and bars
of the Upper West Side, enjoying the company of the scantily clad
girls and women who always crowed around him due to his good looks
and lavish spending habits.

However,
this Friday Boy had stayed late in the office, he had received a
mysterious memo instructing him to attend a special out of hours
meeting on the executive floor. Boy was curious to know what the
meeting was about, and why he had been invited. Arrogantly, and with
a startling lack of self awareness, he wondered if he was in line for
a promotion or bonus. Although, in truth, his standard of work could
hardly warrant a reward of any sort.
Had
he been so tardy and careless with his chores back in the jungle,
Tarzan would certainly have toasted his little bottom, however,
nothing like that was going to happen in the city, or so Boy thought.
Just
before six thirty boy took the elevator to the 18th floor,
the executive floor, where the meeting was due to take place, he
glanced at himself in the mirror, and was pleased he looked so hot
and handsome in his new, black, designer suit.
When
he was in the jungle, Boy had no interest in his appearance, but
since he had been in the city, and discovered how women responded to
his handsome looks, he had added personal vanity to his long list of
character flaws.
He
smiled to himself, confident that his appearance would impress the
bosses he was about to meet with.
What
Boy did not know, was that all the company executives were attending
a weekend team building seminar in Colorado, and the executive floor
was, therefore, unoccupied that evening.
When
the elevator arrived on the 18th Floor, Boy made his way
to the office where he had been told the meeting was to be held.
Expecting the room to be full of company bosses, he knocked on the
door rather than walking straight in.
“Come
in” said a strangely familiar voice.
Boy
entered the room and to his surprise, instead of seeing a room full
of a room full of company executives and bosses, as he had been
expecting, the only people there were, as he would put it, “that
weedy Marc Temple guy from the office and the Polish faggot from IT”.
Boy
was angry, he had stayed late in the office on a Friday hoping for a
reward or promotion, not to have a meeting with two insignificant
jerks. “What do you morons want?” he sneered.
“Ah
Guy!” smiled Marc “Thanks for accepting our invitation, we have
something we would like to show you.”
“Can’t
it wait until Monday? I have plans!”
“I
think you will want to see this now” replied Kam, pointing at a
computer screen.
Making
no effort to hide his irritation Boy stomped across the room, and
looked at the monitor Kam was indicating. At first the jumble of
data made no sense, but then as what he was looking at began to
become clear an icy chill ran down the handsome blonde lad’s spine.
The
data Kam was showing him detailed each time Boy had secretly syphoned
funds from the company account and paid them into his own bank
account. He had thought he had been so clever, by only diverting
small amounts each time, but Kam’s report had highlighted every time
he had done it.
“That’s
quite an amount you have been stealing from the company Guy”
grinned Kam, “Just under $30,000 in two months, …. you being so
greedy made it easier to spot”
“I
would guess that would be worth about five years in prison!” said
Marc, unable to hide the glee in his voice “Probably more given
your betrayal of trust!”
“Prison
won’t be fun!” murmured Kam “What with you being such a pretty
boy and all!” he laughed “Your little butt will get screwed by
every con in the joint!”
Boy
was stunned, he couldn’t believe that his genius plan had been so
easily detected. His initial reaction was that this was some sort of
shake down, and he began calculation how much of his ill gotten gains
he could offer these grinning fags to keep them quiet. The evidence
was to clear to deny, so he had to make a deal.
“Okay,
okay Guys!” he snapped, furious at being caught out, whilst trying
and failing to sound reasonable “how much do you want?”
“We
don’t want your money Guy” replied Marc “We want your butt!”
“Fuck
off!” Boy almost snarled “I’m not like that!”
“We
don’t want to fuck you fella’! … well, maybe another time”
laughed Kam “Right now we are going to spank you!”
Boy
stepped backward, as if struck, those were words he had hoped never
to hear again. “No chance you ….. you … fuck!!” he stammered
“That’s not happening!”
“Either
we spank you, or you are going to jail Guy!” sneered Marc
“Where
all the cons will be after you as their bitch!” added Kam
“Guys
… guys … lets be reasonable about this!” said a now very
nervous boy.
“Drop
your pants!” relied Marc picking up a wooden ruler from the desk,
and sitting down on a conveniently paced chair next to a desk overlooking Central Park “and then get over
my knee!”
Boy
could see from Marc’s expression that he was deadly serious, that
ruler looked as if it had the potential to inflict a lot of pain, but
there didn’t seem any way of avoiding being spanked with it. To his
horror he saw that Kam was holding a rubber soled carpet slipper,
which he had clearly brought with him for the purpose of spanking
Boy’s butt. Tarzan had once spanked him with an old slipper, and he
knew how much they could sting.
Reluctantly
Boy unbuttoned his suit pants and let them slip down to his knees.
“And
your underpants!” ordered Marc “drop them now”
Marc
and Kam looked on in barely concealed delight, as the now very
miserable Boy pushed his thumbs into the waistband of his white
cotton underpants and slowly lowered them, exposing his cock and
balls as he did so.
Marc’s
sadistic instincts were conflicted, whilst being impressed by the
size of Boys equipment, he had secretly hoped this blond hunk would
have a small cock which would add to the humiliation of its exposure,
yet, at the same time he relished the prospect of belittling and
punishing such a perfect, and well proportioned, specimen as the
beautiful young man, now standing before him with his underpants
around his knees.
“Now
get over my knee!” he snapped
“You
can go over mine next!” laughed Kam, smacking the slipper against
the palm of his hand.
“You
bastards will pay for this!” snarled Boy as, knowing he had no
other option but to obey, he shuffled angrily towards the sneering
Marc, and laying face down across his knee.
The
two men then took it in turn to spank Boy’s bare and, as ever, very
tender, bottom.
First
Marc gave him twenty four swinging swat with his wooden ruler, as Boy
struggled and kicked over his lad, and Kam stood watching.
Kam
then took Marc’s place and began whacking Boy with the rubber soled
slipper, as Marc watched, laughing and calling out encouragement as
he did so.
Boy
was seething with anger, he had left the jungle to escape from Tarzan
and the thousand different creatures which kept hurting his bare
bottom, and now here he was on the 18th floor of a New
York skyscraper, 4,000 miles from the jungle, getting his bare butt
spanked by two sniggering gay boys!!
After
he had finished spanking Boy with the Slipper, Kam followed by Marc
gave Boy a firm hand spanking, which, in both cases, culminated in a
rapid fire series of fast hard slaps to reinforce the message.
Throughout
the ordeal Boy was ordered to remove various items of clothing, until
at the end he stood totally naked before them clutching his sore and
well spanked bottom.
He
had hoped that, by escaping to the city he would never have a sore
bottom again, how wrong could he be?!!
“Have
you done?” he mumbled knowing, despite the growing fury in side him
that he now had no chance of regaining any dignity in front of these
two.
“Done?”
echoed Kam “Have we done?” the note of mockery in his voice so
obvious that Boy’s initial, and barely controlled impulse was to
knock his teeth down his throat.
“No
Guy” smiled Marc, “We haven’t ‘done’ … not close!”
“W…what
…. but you just spanked my ass!”
“One
little spanking, won’t cover what you’ve done!” he paused to enjoy
the pleasure of watching the horror spread across Boy’s handsome face
“We plan to spank you whenever, we feel like it, wherever we decide
to, and with whatever we chose!”
“And”
added Kam “I think we are going to feel like it quite often!”
“No!
You can’t do that …..!!” spluttered Boy
“Your
choice fella’” Replied Kam with a shrug “Either you take the
spankings, or you are going to prison!”
Of
course, Boy had no option gut to submit to the couple’s demands, and
over the next week he would receive at least on text or e-mail from
Marc or Kam instructing him to either stay late after work or meet
them in some unoccupied room within the office, such as one of the
the basement stock rooms, where he would receive yet another stinging
spanking.
Within
days boy’s behind was so well spanked and sore that the sting never
faded, and he literally could not sit down without discomfort.
By
the following Friday evening, as Boy lay face down on his bed trying
to cool down his burning bottom with fans and ice cubes he knew he
was going to have to take drastic action to bring this situation to
an end.
Boy’s
bad luck had followed him across the ocean, he was being blackmailed
by two men with genuinely sadistic instincts, and limited compassion.
The guys were clearly enjoying their sadistic pleasures and also
having such extensive power over him. He knew they would not stop and
that if he didn’t obey their orders they would make good their
threat, and enjoy doing it.
His
only option was to stop them, permanently.
************
Despite
the gun laws in New York, it had proved very easy for Boy to obtain a
gun. Even though he had only been in the country for a short time,
he had made some very shady acquaintances, including people happy to
supply him with a weapon and not ask any questions.
Therefore,
early the following Sunday morning, when he guessed that Marc and Kam
would still be in bed, he made his way to their down town apartment,
with a gun in his hand and murder on his mind.
***********
TO BE CONTINUED …….
Posted on

The JockPunishers – Episode 1 “Logan and the Chilli Crushers”

The
JockBusters – Episode 1
Logan
and the Chilli Crushers
Adam
Murphy, Darren Galloway and Todd Singer, had first met at their local
gym after many years during which all three, being shy and studious
boys, with limited skills on the sports field, had been the victims
of bullying and hazing by handsome, athletic jocks who had made their
lives generally miserable.
This
pattern had continued when they became young adults, and by pure
coincidence, all three had finally concluded that the best way to
deal with the ongoing harassment was to toughen up and fight back, it
was for this reason that they had joined the gym.
The
trio soon became good friends, and it was not long before they began
sharing their experiences, and it was then they discovered how much
they had in common, both in terms of what had happened to them, and
also a shared desire to exact revenge, not only for themselves, but
also for other victims of bullies.
Together
they decided that it was time for payback, and that the handsome,
arrogant, jocks and athletes who believed their superior strength and
good looks gave them the automatic right to torment weaker guys would
find themselves on the other side of the punishment, and it would be
they who would be getting their cute butts kicked, spanked and
generally abused.
And
thus the Jock Punishers were born.
The
first unfortunate jock to encounter justice at the hands of the Jock
Punishers was Logan Fairchild. Logan’s family had made a fortune
importing hot chillies from the Far East, bought for a pittance from
poor farmers and sold at ten times cost price in America.
Despite
being a talented swimmer, with a great physique, Logan’s grades would
never have earned him a place at college, had his family money not
eased his path.
Although
Logan’s athletic good looks made him stand out from the crowd, he
also stood out by virtue of the sheer unpleasantness of his
character. Things in life had always come easy for Logan, however,
instead of being grateful, his good luck had made him arrogant and
selfish, features which, together with his innate cruel streak made
him the ideal subject for the Jockpunishers’ brand of justice.
Logan
had often bullied smaller, weaker guys, however, he had also
developed a nasty habit of hitting his girlfriends. This was getting
more violent each time it happened, and his last girlfriend, Mary
Jane Danvers, had ended up in hospital after he got drunk and beat
her up.
Of
course, as usual, Logan’s Daddy’s money had saved him from the
consequences of his actions. An expensive, smooth talking, lawyer
had made any charges go away, and the girl’s family had been paid
off. So, once again, Logan thought he’d got away with it and that he
could carry on being top Jock on campus, as if nothing had happened.
The Jockpunishers however, had an entirely different plan for him!
____________________________________
After
a late night swim, Logan was in the locker room shower, he thought he
was alone, however, he was wrong.
Intent
on cleaning his private parts in advance of an anticipated hot date
with a new girlfriend later that evening, Logan did not notice that
three shadowy figures had entered the room and were quietly creeping
towards him.
It
was not until they were standing right behind him they he realised
someone was there! He spun round to find three men, all dressed in
black, grinning menacingly at him. All three held what appeared to
be large Paddle ball pats, with the ball and string removed.
“What
the fuck do you perverts want?”! He snapped
“Your
Ass!” replied one of the men. As he delivered a resounding SMACK to
Logan’s bare, wet, butt cheek!
“OWW!
Fuck You!” shouted Logan, trying hard to hide how nervous the
malevolently grinning men made him feel. “Who are you?”
“We
are your worst nightmare Logan!” replied one of the grinning men,
“We are going to give you what you deserve!” He lifted the paddle
he was holding “and that means you will not be sitting down for a
while!”
Like
most bullies, Logan was a natural coward, strong and aggressive when
dealing with a woman or a lone and weaker male, he reacted with
increasingly terrified panic when confronted with three strong men.
“Guys…
guys, … I don’t know what your beef is, but can we talk about
this?”
“No
chance!” Came the reply, as the men grabbed him and and pulled him,
protesting, to the athletic medical training room next to the
showers.
They
pushed him face down across a training table and tied his hands and
feet together, before securing them to the table.
Logan
realised there was no point trying to argue with the three men so he
tried calling for help “HELP! … HELP ME!!” he yelled.
Moments
later, he was silenced when a sock was pushed into his mouth and held
there with a white cotton gag.
Struggling
against his binds, Logan’s eyes widened with nervous bemusement when
one of the men took a plastic bag from his pocket and emptied a small
collection of chillies onto one of the training benches. Logan
recognised them as Thai Demon Chillies, a particularly hot type of
chilli pepper, which his family imported from the Far East.
“All
will become clear!” grinned one of the men, noticing Logan’s
bemused expression.
“We
are here to punish you Logan” continued another of the black clad
men. “I doubt you have ever been really punished in your life, and
you have got away with many things, now its payback time!”
“Comeuppance!”
added the third man.
“We
are going to ensure that you pay for what you did to people like Mary
Jane and all the others you have abused and bullied in the past!”
“And
we decided to make it a poetically appropriate punishment. We will
punish the part of you which most symbolises your character, and we
will use the very things which enabled your family to buy you out of
trouble! Continued the first man, as he picked up a chillie.
“We
are going to demonstrate an inventive new method of crushing
chillies!” he laughed “and we are going to use your pretty ass to
do it!”
Then,
while the other two men held Logan still the first man reached out
his hand and parted the cheeks of Logan’s smooth white buttocks,
exposing the young jock’s tight, pink, and, until then, virgin anus. 
 
He
inserted the pointed end of the chilli into the tiny, puckered,
orifice, which closed tightly around it, so that the other end of the
chilli, with the tip of green stem protruded upwards, poking out,
like a periscope, from between the snowy white cheeks.
Due
to his fear, Logan’s muscles tightened, involuntarily gripping the
chilli even tighter, so that it became impossible to shake it free,
even if the men had let him try. 
 
The
first man in black, then held the bat under Logan’s face “What
d’ya’ thinka’ our chilli crushers fella’?” he laughed “d’ya’
think they’ll catch on?” 
 
“NNNMMMMNNNH!”
stammered Logan through his gag, as, the realisation of what the men
had planned began to dawn on him.
The
men then took up position behind Logan, before each in turn raised
their paddles in the air and, one by one, brought them down with a
WHACK! On the unlucky jock’s tender bare behind, as Logan struggled
in a vain attempt to avoid the blows.
At
first the resilient chilli remained intact, the whacks from the
paddles simply forcing it more deeply into Logan’s quivering rectum.
Then, as the men continue to aim swats at Logan, bit by bit the
chilli began to split and break up, leaking juice and fiery seeds
onto Logan’s exposed and sensitive skin.
Logan
had a very low tolerance of any form of discomfort, and as the
bruising whacks from the large hard paddles sent shock waves of pain
shooting into his buttocks he was convulsed in agony. However, it
soon got worse, as the burning chilli juice and even hotter seeds
began to have their effect on the most private and delicate region
causing a searing burn, not dissimilar from what he imagined having a
red hot poker inserted into him might feel like.
As
one chilli was destroyed the men replaced it with another from their
small supply, until all had been thoroughly crushed into their
unfortunate captive’s anus.
By
the time they had finished Logan was moaning and weeping through his
gag, as tears ran down his face. His butt cheeks and ass hole a
searing furnace of pain.
The
Jockpunishers were satisfied that this arrogant and cruel young jock
had been suitably punished for his crimes, but they had not quite
finished with him yet.
*****
The
next morning the students arrived at college to a most unusual
spectacle, of Logan’s final humiliation as he dangled, bare assed
from the college flagpole displaying a sign announcing that he beat
up girls, and inviting his fellow students to take a swat at him with
a conveniently placed paddle beneath him.
Logan’s
battered butt cheeks remained red for the rest of the day, but it was
almost a week before the burning sensation in his little pink rosebud
finally faded. Even so, it took much longer than that for the
scalding pain to his ego to subside, only to be lit again from time
to time, as the memory of his humiliation took it’s place in college
folk law and returned to remind him.
The
Jockpunishers had brought justice to one deserving jock, but their
work was not done, there were many more handsome, spoilt and arrogant
young jocks in need of punishment, and the three avengers intended to
bring it to them.
_________________________________________
If
the JockPunishers prove popular they will return now and then as an
occasional series
Posted on

Justice for Joel (Part 4)

Justice
For Joel – Continues
Joel’s
bottom burned like fire. No matter how much he tried to ignore it,
the relentless sting wouldn’t go away, that, and the total
humiliation he had been subjected to, was all he could think about.
Not only was he very sore, but he was also very angry, how dare Uncle
Miles and his gang of inbred hicks treat him like this? They had
stripped him naked, and refused to give him back his clothes, they
had spanked him, jabbed him in the butt with pitchforks, and then
they had stung him with stinging nettles!
As
a result, his naturally sensitive rump felt as if it was being
attacked by a thousand fire ants, while simultaneously being jabbed
with red hot needles. He was, therefore, not a happy boy.
He
was in a seriously unwelcome predicament, for one thing he trapped on
a farm, in the middle of the Montana hills, hundreds of miles from
girls, from the city and all the things he enjoyed, but he was also
at risk of court mandated, bare bottom, spankings, mostly inflicted
without warning! He felt as if he was living a nightmare, unable to
wake up, and he suspected the dream was about to get even worse.
It
may please many readers to hear that young Joel’s guess was not be
far off the mark!. Joel was one of those young men who deserved a
permanently sore bottom, and that was exactly what he was going to
get!
As
dusk began to fall, Joel discovered to his horror that he would have
to sleep with the men in the bunkhouse behind the main ranch house.
This did not please him, and he had complained to his Uncle, however,
Miles had been adamant, if he was going to work on the ranch, he
would have to live life a ranch hand.
When
Joel protested that the ranch hands were not bare butt naked, Miles
informed him tersely, that he would get his pants returned to him, if
and when he had earned them. Until then he would have to stay bare
assed.
This
sent Joel into an irritated sulk, it was embarrassing being naked,
especially when he had such a red bottom. He was also unhappy about
sharing with the ranch workers. To start with, he was very nervous in
the company of the ranch hands, after what they had done to him
earlier, but also, as a city boy, he felt naturally superior to
country dwelling farm workers and objected to sharing their sleeping
quarters.
The
ranch hands quickly sensed that Joel’s arrogant attitude was still
lurking beneath the surface and resolved to bring him down with a
bump, preferably hard on his cute little bare bottom.
Braden
turned to Ash and Hadley “Back in my sports bag I have just the
thing which will light that little dickhead’s butt up like a
lightning bug!” he whispered.
“Sounds
like fun” chuckled Ash “It’s red now, but it could do with being
even redder!!”
“It
needs a little extra …. heat I think!” smiled Braden
“Hey
kid!” he barked in a louder voice, “It’s almost chow time, come
with us, and we’ll show you where you will be bunking down tonight!”
he took a firm grip of Joel’s arm, while Hadley took hold of the
other arm, and, followed by the other men, all grinning broadly, they
marched a very reluctant Joel towards the brightly lit bunkhouse.
****
Supper
or “chow” as the men called it did not appeal to Joel, consisting
of pork meatloaf and corn biscuits, it was far too “country style”
for his (in his view) more sophisticated city based tastes. Also, he
found it very uncomfortable trying to sit on the hard bench by the
table. After a few mouthfuls he stood up and walked away from the
table, aware of the half dozen pairs of amused eyes which were
focused on him.
“That
ass of yours still looks mighty sore kid!” said Braden, a kindly
note in his voice, as he looked at Joel’s still bare and still very
red bottom.
“Yes,
it fucking is!” snapped Joel “after what you fuckers did to it!”
quickly turning his back away from the amused eyes of the other men,
whilst simultaneously covering his exposed genitals with his hands.
“I
can help it feel better!” smiled Braden, “come here, I’ll rub
some soothing cream into it!”
“You
ain’t touching my ass!” replied Joel defensively backing away from
the men, only to find his way blocked by the bunk beds.
“Don’t
be a jackass kid!” laughed Ash he only wants to make your little
bottom feel better. Both he and Hadley too hold of Joel and pulled
him towards the seated Braden, before forcing the struggling youth to
sit on Braden’s lap.
Bradon,
a large and muscular guy, placed one hand beneath Joel’s thighs and,
with one swift and easy movement, lifted his legs up into the air,
with the result that Joel suddenly found himself in an embarrassing
and very exposed position, similar to that of a baby about to have
it’s diaper changed.
“What
the ….?” he yelped “put me the fuck down!!!”
“Don’t
be so dumb kid!” laughed Braden, “we’re just gonna’ sooth that
poor stinging botty of yours!!”
“Here’s
the ‘soothing cream’ Man!” said Hadley picking up a tube from the
table where Braden had placed it earlier (winking to the other men as
he did so. “Hold him steady while I rub it in!” he squeezed the
tube, so that a large dollop of the cream landed in the palm of his
hand.
Hadly
then raised his hand in the air, before taking a swing at Joel so
that the cream covered palm of his hand landed with a loud “SMACK!!”
across the left cheek of Joel’s uplifted bottom.
“OUCH!”
yelled Joel “That fucking hurt … you ….!!”
“Calm
down Young’un!” snapped Hadley “We are doing this to make you
more comfortable ….. otherwise, your butt will sting all night!”
he began rubbing the cream firmly into Joel’s butt cheeks.
“Make
sure you cover the whole area!” laughed Ash “We want to make sure
that his whole butt feels the …. uh … benefit of that …. er
gentle soothing ointment!”
Joel
tried to pull himself free from Braden’s grip, but Braden’s muscular
arms were honed from years of strenuous labour, and with the
assistance of another ranch hand, Jareth Hunter, who held his
shoulders, the protesting youth was kept firmly in place.
“You
are not doing it right!” cried Ash “here let me show you!” he
playfully pushed Hadley to one side and firmly grabbed hold of Joel’s
butt cheeks, pushing them apart, and exposing Joel’s puckering anus
to the horror of Joel and the delight of the grinning men.
“It
needs to go …. everywhere!” he laughed.
Braden,
with the help of Hadley, then rolled Joel onto his side, still
perched on Braden’s knee, this exposed Joel even more and allowed Ash
greater access to his most intimate areas.
Ash,
of course, took full advantage of Joel’s position, and firmly rubbed
the cream into every inch, and crevice, of Joel’s cute young butt.
It
was then that Joel began to become aware of a new sensation spreading
across his nether regions, first a feeling of warmth, then heat
followed a hot fiery sensation. Rather than soothing the burning in
his bottom, whatever, the men were rubbing into him was increasing
his discomfort.
“What
the fuck is that stuff??!!!” screamed joel “It’s burning me!
….AAAAOOWWW!!”
“Don’t
be stupid Joel!” laughed, Ash, using his thumbs to smear the cream
between the unhappy lad’s cheeks “it will take away the burn!”
“It’s
making it worse!” protested Joel, now in significant discomfort,
“it’s burning my ass!! …. AAAGGH!! it is really burning me!!”
“Let
me look at that tube!” murmured Braden with feigned concern, as,
grinning brightly, Hadley handed him the now empty tube, which
Braden then studied with a frown, while still holding the now yelling
and kicking Joel in place.
“Oh
heck Buddy!” groaned Braden “That’s the wrong cream, it’s not the
soothing cream, that’s embrocation …. see …” he held out the
tube “Capsaicin cream … it’s chilli based …..!!”
“My
… oh my!” cooed Ash with pretend sympathy “you should never use
that on tender areas ….. it’ll sting like Hell fire!!”
“Is
your butt a stinging a bit kid?” asked Braden in his best effort at
a solicitous tone.
“It
fucking is!!” screamed Joel “Get it off me!!!! …AAAAGGGGHH!!!”
Braden
loosened his grip on Joel allowing him to leap to his feet and begin
jumping up and down, yelling in anger and pain, as the men stood
around watching him, struggling to stop themselves from laughing out
loud.
“I
guess we better give young Joel a bath!” announced Ash “that
should wash off that nasty chilli paste!!”
“Yeah!
Come on Kid, we’ll give you a nice bath!!” shouted Hadley “that
will make you feel better!”
Before
Joel could reply, the men took hold of him, and hurried him into the
next room, where and old hip bath had conveniently been placed in the
middle of the room.
Even
more conveniently, numerous pans of water were already heating up on
on a large, old fashioned stove in the corner of the room, whilst two
kettles were already whistling and beginning to steam.
While
Braden and Ash held onto Joel, the other men swiftly filled the hip
bath with the water from the heated pans and kettles.
“W….
what are you d..doing?” stammered Joel
“Obviously,
we’re gonna’ give you a bath fella’!” replied Ash “We gotta’ wash
that nasty chilli off your butt!”
“But
that’s too hot!!” yelled Joel “NO!! that’s too damn hot!!”
“Your
so dumb kid!” replied Braden struggling to suppress a laugh “It
needs to be hot to get the chilli off!”
Joel,
of course, was not dumb enough to believe that, a keen athlete while
still at school, he had suffered a number of strains and new that
when hot water came into contact with embrocation on tender skin it
actually intensifies the stinging sensation. At that point
increasing the sensation was the very last thing he wanted!!
“No
fucking way!!” he shouted, fear sending his voice a few octaves
higher than usual. He attempted to pull away from Braden and Ash,
but they just gripped him more tightly.
“It’s
time for your bath Kid!” growled Ash, “C’mon Buddy, let’s help
him!”
“NO!!
…NO!! … DON’T!!” shouted Joel, as Ash firmly took hold of him
under the arms, while Braden grabbed him by the ankles, easily
lifting him off the floor.
“Let
me down you dickheads!” shouted the struggling Joel!
“We
will do!” replied Ash with a grin “We will let you down … into
the bath!”
The
two men carried the horrified and protesting Joel across the room
until they stood on either side of the steaming hip bath, holding the
dangling Joel, bare bottom down over the still close to boiling
water.
The
men began lowering Joel towards the water, while, in an effort to
stop them, Joel grabbed hold of the two wooden handles on either side
of the batch, in a desperate attempt to push his body, and especially
his, still glowing pink bottom upwards.
For
a few seconds, Joel’s efforts succeeded in stopping his descent
towards the hot water, but not for long.
Ash’s
placed his arms around Joel’s chest and gripped him in a tight bear
hug “Sorry fella” he growled menacingly, “but you’re going
down!” then, he lowered himself to his knees and with a sudden jerk
of his muscular arms he forced Joel’s body down into the steaming
water.
Joel
let out a scream of pain as the scalding hot water reacted with the
chilli based cream, which had earlier been rubbed into his render
skin, increasing the burning sensation by some ten fold.
“Is
that nice warm water easing your little sore butt?” chuckled
Jareth, who had been observing the scene with increasing amusement.
“It
is fucking burning me, you fucking ass hole!!” yelled Joel
“It’s
your tight little ass hole that’s getting roasted kid!” laughed
Jareth “And you might get something worse than hot water up there
if you are not careful!!”
Convulsed
with laughter, Braden and Ash released their grip on Joel, allowing
him the opportunity to jump to his feel, still standing in the hip
bath, but sending hot water splashing onto the floor, and the jeans
clad legs of the ranch hands.
Before
Joel could jump out of the bath, and escape the hot water which was
still burning his bare feel and lower legs, he again found himself
in the firm grip of Ash and Braden, who had now dropped the earlier
pretence of kindness.
“I
think its time this little city boy got another whuppin’” snarled
Braden
“Yup!”
replied Jareth “An’ I got just the thing!” he picked up a long
handled wooden bath brush
“Yeah!
Let him have it Buddy!” Turning Joel so that he bare bottom was
pointed towards Jareth.
“That
sure is a tempting target!” laughed Jareth, reaching out and
tapping Joel’s behind with the brush, before giving it a resounding
“WHACK!”
Joel
struggled and kicked his legs in an attempt to free himself, but the
men held him firmly in place as Jareth aimed a further painful WHACK
at his now quite tortured bottom!
“AAAAHHHOOO!”
he yelled, as the impact of the hard wood on his sensitive skin sent
shockwaves into his flesh.
Joel’s
bottom was now stinging as if it was under attack from a swarm of
angry yellow jacket wasps.
Outside
the bunkhouse, Miles peered through a crack in the curtain, a rye
smile on his face. He was pleased to see that the men were giving
Joel a taste of what the next few months had in store for him. He
knew the men could be rough, and he would step in if they went too
far. Joel’s bottom needed to be kept sore, but not permanently
damaged. However, for the time being, Joel was getting exactly what
he deserved.
Back
inside the men had, to some degree, taken pity on Joel and and
dispensed with the bath brush after a mere 10 Whacks. Instead Braden
and another of the men, Ivan Cooper, placed Joel across their knees
and began what might be called a synchronised spanking. Each man
taking turns in smacking Joel’s wide spread butt, as he yelled and
cussed at them, but was unable to do anything to stop them.
As
long as Joel was living on the farm him cute 18 year old butt was
theirs to do as they liked with it, and the men were resolved to keep
it glowing pink, tender and well spanked at all times.
Two
hours later, and the men were preparing for bed. “Hey guys” said
Hadley “where is the kid gonna sleep?, there isn’t a spare bunk for
him!”
“We’ll
sort one out for him tomorrow, until then he’ll have to sleep on the
porch!” replied Braden, with a wink
For
a brief moment Joel’s mind buzzed with thoughts of escape, if he was
on the porch, he could wait until the guys were asleep, then steal a
truck, and get away from this God forsaken place.
However
his hopes of freedom were short lived, as soon as they had escorted
him to the porch outside the bunk house, the men tied his hands and
feet with a long piece of rope, before throwing the other end over a
beam in the porch ceiling.
“What
are you doing?” stammered Joel
“We
need to make sure the coyotes don’t get you boy!” replied Ash, as
the men began pulling on the rope, causing Joel to loose his balance
and fall, landing on his just punished bottom.
The
men kept pulling on the ropes, hoisting Joel up into the air until he
was hanging from the beam, by his tied wrists and ankles, with his
dangling bare bottom almost brushing against a strange looking metal
apparatus, which looked like a neon light.
“You
can’t leave me like this!!” shouted Joel “Not all night!!”
“Don’t
worry kid!” laughed Ash, “we’ll make sure the bugs don’t bit
you!!” he turned a switch and the object next to Joel’s bottom,
began to hum and flicker to life, giving off a bright blue light.
Joel’s
body jerked with surprise causing him to sway slightly, with the
result that his dangling bare bottom touched the thin metal grid
surrounding the blue light.
“ZZZAAAPPP!!”
a small but painful electric shock, stabbed into his exposed butt
cheek, accompanied by a small flash of blue light “Yeeowwch!!
yelled Joel, his body jerking again, causing him to sway at the end
of the rope, first away from the grid, but then, that very momentum
caused him to swing back into contact with the grid resulting in
another “ZZAAPP!”
and a flash of blue light as a small but stinging electrical current
shot into his flesh, this time mere millimetres from his exposed and
rosebud like anus, causing him to let out another scream
“What
the fuck is that thing?” he yelled
“It
kills them ‘skeeters Boy” replied Hadley “We get a lotta’ darn
‘skeeters round here!”
“But
don’t worry Kid” added Ash “the mozzies won’t bite you, not with
you hanging right next to the ‘Skeeter killer and all!”
“Yeah!”
continued Hadley “Any ‘skeeter that tries to bite your lil’ bare
tail will get hit by an electric charge and ‘zapo’, it’ll be ‘skeeter
history!”
“But
be careful not to touch it!” laughed Braden “or you will get a
nasty shock!”
Joel
did not need telling about the electrical shocks, having just
received two painful jabbing shocks in what was currently the most
tender and sensitive part of his anatomy from what he now realised
was a rather ancient electrical insect killer. An electric insect
killer on one’s porch is a very useful device in the backwoods of
Montana for some parts of the year, but it is not something anyone
would want to be hanging next to when bare ass naked, as Joel was.
He
decided to try and reason with the men. “Hey guys, this is not
funny! Let me down now!” he tried to look down at them, but that
just made the rope sway, causing his behind to touch the electrified
grating “ZZZAAAPPP!”
.. “AAAOWCHH!”
“Sorry
kid!” replied Braden “we’ll make up a bunk for you tomorrow, but
tonight you will have to stay up there!!”
“Goodnight
fella’” laughed Hadley “Sleep well!”
To
Joel’s horror the men then sauntered back into the bunkhouse, leaving
him dangling from the roof of the porch, his bottom a hairs breadth
from the electric insect killer.
Poor
Joel had a long and painful night ahead of him, not only was it very
uncomfortable hanging from a rope by his hands and feet, but also,
much as he tried to stay perfectly still, this was not possible when
one is dangling from a rope, and even the smallest of movements
caused the rope to swing sending his bare bottom into contact with
the electrified grill surrounding the blue light and jabbing yet
another painful electric shock into his already well punished bottom.
The
electric shocks may not have been strong enough to cause any serious
or lasting burns, but they were still extremely painful especially on
such tender skin as that on Joel’s bottom.
The
long Montana night was punctuated with the zapping sound of
electricity on skin, followed by a yell of pain from Joel.
Joel’s
luck really had really run out, and who knew what life had in store
for him next. Whatever it was, it was sure to a pain in the ass!
We
may return to the ranch later in the year to see how Joel’s summer of
spanking progresses.
Posted on

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

Justice For Joel (Part 2)

Still
carrying the protesting, increasingly outraged and bare bottomed Joel
over his shoulder Miles marched up the street to the parking lot
where he had parked his truck. 
 
At 18, Joel
was a strong young man, but Miles was stronger, and despite his
attempts to struggle free, Joel could not escape from his mortifyingly
embarrassing position, made all the worse by the passers by laughing
and pointing as they saw him. The unhappy lad was keenly aware that,
apart from his white socks, he was naked from the waist down, and
that his still blushing red bottom publicly advertised to all that he
had been soundly spanked.
As
a reader it might be unkind to enjoy the humiliation of a handsome
but arrogant young jerk, but Heck, none of us are perfect. To someone
with such an inflated and sensitive ego as Joel, the shame of his
position was almost as painful as the spanking …. almost. Of course, he deserved it, so let us
just savour that fact!
On
reaching the truck, Miles put Joel down, whilst still holding him
tightly. He then opened the tailgate of the truck and pushed the
protesting lad onto some bails of hay which were in the back of the
truck.
Before
Joel could quite grasp what was happening, Miles had grabbed a length
of rope and tied him face down over the bail of hay.
“What
the fu ….. what are you doing?” yelled Joel
“I
have to keep my hands on the wheel!” replied Miles “So this will
keep you …. secure, while we drive to the ranch!”
With
that Miles opened the driver’s seat of the car and jumped “Make
yourself comfortable Joel, we have a five hour drive ahead of us!
To
Joel’s horror the van drove out of the parking lot and onto the city
street, with him still strapped bare bottomed and very exposed in
the open back of the vehicle. 
 
It
was midday, but still the traffic was heavy, so their journey through
town was slow, giving the local citizenry ample opportunity to see
Joel as the truck made its way through the streets. Like a small
carnival float, or, in Joel’s mind a tumbrel driving through the
cheering streets of revolutionary Paris, the only difference being
that he would not face the guillotine, and it would not be his head
that would be on the block.
Finally
the truck drove out of the city and began heading North West towards
the Montana border. For the first 80 or so miles, the roads remained
busy, and many motorists cheered and hooted when they caught sight of
Joel in the back of the truck.
After
a few hours of driving, the van crossed the Montana border, and
turned off the main highway, and to Joel’s relief they began passing
less traffic as they began heading deeper into the countyside.
He
had just been through the worst, and most pain filled, day of his
life and and still could not quite believe what had happened. He was
still only wearing his white shirt and socks, and was beginning to
think that Miles’s threat to keep him “bare bottomed” might be
real!
Although
still in trepidation as to what might lay ahead, his characteristic
defiance was beginning to reassert itself, and his crafty mind spent
much of the trip plotting ways which he might be able to avoid what
was planned for him, and once again, as so often in his life so far,
escape the consequences of his action.
As
they travelled, the countryside became more impressive, with stunning
vistas of beautiful rolling pastures and woodland, framed by cloud
topped mountains in the far distance. Of course, Joel’s face down,
bottom uppermost, position did not afford him the best view of
natures wonders, and in any event he was far more concerned with
wondering what might await him when they finally reached their
destination.
After
almost five hours of driving, the van turned of the road onto a long
dirt road drive way, which led eventually to a large ranch house,
surrounded by farm buildings.
Miles
parked the van, got out and walked round to the back and opened the
tailgate, before proceeding to untie Joel.
“Do
you remember this farm Joel?” he asked “You stayed here once many
years ago, when you were very young.”
Joel,
who’s body was aching from the hours he had just spent in a very
uncomfortable position, scowled and glanced around. However,
instead of appreciating the magnificent views, Joel sulkily
contemplated how boring life would be stuck out here, so far from the
city. He again began to consider various means of escape.
He
vaguely recalled the farm and the fun he had once had playing there,
long ago, before the city, girls and adult games had become of more
interest to him than playing hide and go seek in some dusty old barn.
“This
will be your home for the next year Joel”
“Fuck
that!” blurted Joel “you can’t keep me prisoner here!”
“Well
the court thinks otherwise kid” smiled Miles ”and I suggest you
mind your language in future!”
Joel
shrugged, he had no intention of either minding his language or
staying on some damn farm for a week, let alone a year.
“You
will be working on the farm, and living with the farm hands going
forward” continued Miles “But tonight you can sleep in the house,
follow me” he opened the door and walked into the hallway.
Joel
followed, but was not happy with what he had just heard “What do
you mean ‘working’? The Judge didn’t say anything about work!!” he
muttered resentfully.
“You
need to earn your living kid” replied Miles.
“Fuck
that! I didn’t choose to come to this sh ….. farm!”
“I
told you to mind your tongue!”
“Fuck
you!” snapped Joel, “you are not my father!”
A
second later Joel found himself rammed, face first against the wall
as Miles held him firmly in place with one hand while using the other
to lift the back of his white shirt, revealing his still slightly
reddened bare behind.
Miles
then picked up a clothes brush from the hall table “I warned you
twice kid!” he snarled, “I am not going to warn you again!”
He
raised the brush high in the air and then brought it down with a loud
WHACK! onto Joel’s still tender behind.
“AAAH!”
yelled Joel. “That hurts”
“It
will hurt a lot more when I use this on you for real!” replied
Miles as he delivered two more stinging “ThWACKS!” to Joel’s
behind. “Which I guarantee I will, if you don’t behave
yourself!”
Miles
released his grip, at which point Joel spun round and glowered at the
older man. There had to be some way of escaping this situation, but
with a hundred miles of open countryside between them and
civilisation, that would not be easy to achieve.
That
night Joel slept badly, his mind beset with frightening nightmares,
all of which ended the same way.
The
next morning, a still sulky Joel woke up at an hour which was, for
him, unusually early and made his way, naked, into the bathroom
attached to the bedroom he had been allocated. 
 
He
turned on the bath tap and and then returned to the bedroom and began
going through the drawers, in the hope of finding a cigarette.
Unfortunately for Joel, Miles’ house was a strictly enforced no
smoking zone, and Joel’s own pack of smokes were in the pocket of his
black suit pants, which, together with his underpants and shoes, were
back at the courthouse, many miles away.
His
search proving fruitless, Joel sulkily returned to the bathroom, and
attempted to sit down on the edge of the bath, which was now full of
water. However, being preoccupied with the lack of nicotine he sat
down clumsily, and instead of sitting on the edge of the bath he fell
bottom first into the water. 
 
As
many a gambler has discovered, when they hit an unlucky streak, it
doesn’t get any better, and Joel’s luck, ably assisted by his own
carelessness, was getting increasingly worse. When he had run himself
a bath, he had only turned on the hot tap, so the bath his bare
bottom had just landed in was full of scalding hot water.
Joel
let out a scream, sounding not unlike a wounded animal as he leaped
out of the bath and began jumping up and down clutching his scorched
behind, swearing loudly as he did so. 
 
Still
rubbing his, again very sore bottom, Joel walked back into the
bedroom, it was then that he noticed the object on the floor
He
had tossed his white shirt on the floor before getting into the
shower and he wondered if he could tie that round himself, like some
loincloth. It was then that he noticed the white cylindrical object
which had fallen out of the shirt pocket, and remembered that his
buddy, Jose, had lent him a cigarette and match before entering the
court earlier that day.
He
quickly picked up the cigarette and searched frantically for the
match, which luckily was still in the pocket. He struck the match
against the bathroom wall, not caring that it left a mark on the
paintwork, lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply before exhaling a
stream of smoke.
Joel
was just in the act of taking a second drag of the cigarette, when
the bathroom door opened, and Miles Rutter walked in carrying a
holdall “Your Dad asked me to pack some clothes for y …..!” he
began, stopping abruptly upon seeing the cigarette smouldering
between Joel’s fingers.
“What
the…!!” after a moment of stunned silence, Miles exploded with
fury “How dare you smoke in my house?!!. He strode up to Joel and
placed a firm hand on his shoulder “I did not give you permission
to pollute my atmosphere!”
He
snatched the offending, quarter smoked, cigarette from Joel’s hand,
threw it into the sink, and turned on the tap. “Do you know what
those things do to your body?”
“Oh
will you get off my case man! …” shrugged Joel “it’s only a
smoke!”
The
words had barely left Joel’s mouth before he found himself being
dragged out of the bedroom by Miles, who then sat down on a large
leather setee, before forcing Joel to sit on his lap, facing away
from him. As Joel protested loudly, Miles pushed him forward face
down with his hands on the floor. Miles the hoisted Joel legs either
side of him, forcing the boy into what is commonly known amongst
spanking enthusiasts as the “wheelbarrow” position.
Joel’s father
had never spanked him in this position, so he was initially confused
by what was happening, realising only that he was in a very
vulnerable situation. 
 
“Right
kid” grinned Miles, “this is where you experience your first
Ranch House spanking!” he raised his hand high in the air above
his head, before bringing it down with a hard SMACK! Across the
middle of Joel’s cheeks, which because of his position were already
slightly spread, and caused the centre of Miles’s palm to land
perilously close to Joel’s tight anus.
“AAAHHHOWCH!”
yelled Joel “Don’t do that you pervert!!”
“I
am not a pervert!” laughed Miles “I am simply carrying out the
sentence of the court!” With that he proceeded to spend the next
ten minutes giving poor Joel’s still glowing bottom yet another hard
spanking. This time in the vulnerable and, as Joel discovered,
especially humiliating, wheelbarrow position.
The
latest Spanking over, Miles pointed to a small rucksack in the hall,
and ordered Joel to get dressed.
It
was with some relief that Joel discovered that his father had indeed
packed a bag of clothes for him, and given it to Miles to bring to
the ranch. He had been worried that Miles would make good on his
threat to keep him naked.
Escape
would be a lot easier with clothes. And he certainly planned to
escape as soon as Miles’s back was turned.
Wearing
jeans, a blue plaid shirt and canvas sneakers Joel sauntered onto the
porch, and glanced casually across the wild empty landscape before
him. He knew from the previous day’s drive to the ranch that they
were a long way from town, but now he could see quite how isolated
the ranch was. It would be a long walk back to town, escape would
not be as easy as he imagined.
As
Joel was standing contemplating the best methods of escape, Miles
appeared “Come on Boy!” he snapped “Time for work!”
“Huh?”
“You
didn’t think you would get to sit on your butt all day, did you?”
laughed the older man “We will keep you fully employed while you
are here!”
Joel
scowled sulkily, although “sitting on his butt” was still
somewhat challenging, he has no inclination to actually do any work!
However, he reluctantly decided that he had better play along until
he could get away from this God damn farm, and grudgingly accompanied
Miles as he strode away from the ranch house towards a large hay
barn.
As
the approached the barn Joel saw a group of, mostly bare chested,
young men hard at work. He guessed these were ranch hands employed
by Miles to run the farm.
“Good
morning guys!” barked Miles “This is Joel, he will be working
with you for the next few months!”
Joel
spun round “No I fucking won’t!” he snapped, almost spitting his
words with anger “I’m not a fucking ranch hand!”
Miles
turned to the man and smiled “Well guys” he said “It seems to
me that Joel is asking for the traditional introduction …. and I am
sure you men will be more than willing to give it to him.!”
The
group of men all grinned knowingly “Yes Boss!” replied one
“We
sure will Boss!” replied another “That we sure will!!”

TO BE CONTINUED …….

Posted on

Justice For Joel (Part 1)

 Justice
for Joel
Miles
Rutter looked hard at the picture he had just been handed. The youth
at the centre of the image was hardly recognisable as the gangly
youngster he had last seen six years before. Over those years, Joel
had grown into a strikingly handsome young man, who would not look
out of place in an Amercrombie & Fitch Commercial. However, his
pose was hardly one which he would have expected to see mainstream
model adopt,let alone a grown man.
Standing
on a balcony, with a sea view behind him, Joel was looking over his
shoulder with a broad and mischievous grin on his handsome face. What
made the picture striking however was that Joel had lowered his
shorts, exposing his nicely shaped, bare, white bottom, and appeared
in the act of mooning at the camera. Behind him on the balcony, a
smartly dressed couple were observing the young man’s behaviour with
obvious disdain.
“Where
was this taken” asked Miles, his eyes still fixed on the photo, and
in particular Joel’s well proportioned and fully exposed bare rump.
“On
vacation in Sausalido, last Summer, he gatecrashed a reception for a
visiting Congressman and his wife” replied Tom Barrett, turning his
sad eyes away from his old friend and across the city park, where the
two men were sitting “He got drunk, he totally disgraced himself ..
and the family, and groped the Congressman’s daughter!”
“And
this resulted in his first conviction?” asked Miles, still looking
at the photo.
“The
Congressman’s staff called the police” replied Tom “Joel was
charged with indecency and sexual assault, only misdemeanors, but
that was just the start!”
“So
that was followed by the D.U.I. Incident and now the theft
conviction?” murdered Miles
“Yes!,
plus the assault on the store guard who caught him” Tom put his
face in his hands “As you know he is in court tomorrow for
sentencing, and I am certain he will be sent to prison! And in this
state it will be a long term” he looked down despondently at his
wheelchair “What can I do? He is out of control, and since I broke
my back I am unable to discipline him!”
“And
discipline is just what he needed!” replied Miles “If only you
had told me earlier, I could have come down from the farm and stepped
in.”
“I
know!” wailed the clearly distraught Tom “I wish I had, but I was
ashamed to admit failing as a father …. anyway, it is too late
now!”
Miles
put down the photo, leaned across and placed his hand on the other
man’s knee “Maybe not Tom!” he said “Maybe not!”
Tom
quickly turned to face Miles “What do you mean?”
“Trust
me Buddy!” Miles smiled mysteriously, “If you give me full
authority to deal with this as I think best, I might just be able to
keep Joel out of prison!”
“Anything
you say!” replied Tom “Please do whatever you can to save the
boy’s ass!”
Miles
Barratt glanced back down at the picture of Joel mooning the camera
“I might just keep him out of prison” he though “But that
little bare butt will definitely not be saved from what it deserves!”
Joel
was more scared than he had ever felt in all his 18 years. The three
nights he had spent in the police holding cells, following his
conviction on Friday had kicked his usual, cocky and care free manner
squarely in the butt. The arrogant young man who had sauntered into
court three days before had been replaced by a frightened child.
While
in the cells, just bars away from hardened criminals and gangsters,
Joel had seen and heard what he would face in actual prison, it was
then that the reality of his situation had dawned on him, and it was
terrifying.
As
the guard led him into the courtroom, Joel noticed a familiar figure
sitting next to his solicitor at the lawyers’ table “Miles Rutter?”
he thought “What’s he doing here?”
All
thought of Miles Rutter was then forgotten, as the man who would
decide Joel’s fate, Judge Able Flinthard, entered the court.
“Stand
you little jerk!” hissed the guard grabbing hold of Jole’s shirt
collar and pulling him to his feet. It had been years since Joel had
been handled roughly by an older man, and he did not like it.
Immediately his face adopted a sulky and brat like expression which,
although he did not realise it, was guaranteed to irritate the judge.
Judge
Flinthard took his seat, and glanced around the court, before his
eyes focused on the defendant like a piercing laser. “Does the
defence have anything to say in mitigation before I pass sentence on
this young felon?” he snapped.
To
Joel’s surprise his Dad’s friend, Miles Rutter, stood up, “Yes,
your honour!” said Miles “I have been authorised by the
defendant’s family and legal representatives to speak in mitigation.”
The
judge looked back at Joel “Are you in agreement with this?”
“uh….
uh … er .. yes ….I.. guess!” replied Joel, in some confusion.
“agreed”
snapped the judge, “go ahead”
“I
wish to call the defendant back to the stand” said Miles,
The
judge agreed and after a rough shove in the back from the guard, Joel
reluctantly made his way to the stand. His mind was racing, unsure
what was going on and what on Earth Miles was doing there, and
speaking, instead of his lawyer, who was watching proceedings with a
barely disguised grin on his face.
Miles
Rutter looked Joel straight in the face “I have known you and your
family for many years have I not Joel?”
“…uh
huh!” agreed Joel
“Up
until two years ago, you were an exemplarity student at school, were
you not?” continued Miles holding up examples of Joel’s old report
cards “As these report cards show, you regularly received “A”
grades and commendations for good behavior. You were also a star of
the swimming team, and I have a number of testimonials ..” he held
up some sheets of paper “ …confirming that you were generally
considered to have a bright future and to be an asset to the school
and the community!” Without waiting for Joel to reply Miles turned
to the judge “Your honour, I would like these report cards and
testimonials to be considered as part of our mitigation.”
The
judge nodded, an irritated frown crossing his face, he had heard all
this before, it did not matter if the defendant had once been an
Honours student, what mattered was that was now a violent, thieving
young thug, who, he had already decided, would be spending the next
few years of his young life in a particularly unpleasant correctional
facility.
“All
that changed though, didn’t it Joel?” continued Miles as Joel
stared at him blankly “All that changed after your Dad’s accident!
….Right? …. After your Dad had his accident you started to
misbehave, you stopped getting good grades and you were finally
expelled from school. That is correct isn’t it Joel?”
His
question elicited nothing more than a grudging shrug from the
increasingly surly youth, so Miles continued. “After your Dad
broke his back, there were many things he was no longer able to do!”
he paused, knowing how much of a risk his next words would carry.
“One of the things your Dad could no longer do had a serious impact
on your development Joel ….. Do you know hat that was?”
Joel
shrugged again, “Dunno!” he said “What you on about?”
“What
your Dad could no longer do for you Joel” said Miles “Is he could
no longer take down your pants and spank your little bare bottom when
you got out of line!”
A
gasp of shock ran round the court and Joel’s mouth fell open as he
stared at Miles stuggling to take in what had just been said.
Meanwhile, Judge Flinthard’s eyebrow shot up in the air, never in his
twenty years on the bench had he heard such a statement made in
mitigation “This is a most unusual line of q ….” he spluttered
“Please
bear with me your honour.” interrupted Miles, “This has
considerable bearing on this young man’s current situation”
The
judge nodded, his interest now perked as to what would come next.
Miles
continued to address Joel “Before his accident, your Dad used to
spank your bare bottom often, didn’t he Joel?”
A
look of incredulous fury fell across Joel’s face “”Fuck off man!”
he snarled
“I
will warn you just once young man!” snapped the judge “If you use
language like that in my court again you will be punished. Now
answer the question, …. did your father spank your bare bottom
often before his accident?”
Joel
felt a warm flush rise across his face at the sheer embarrassment of
being asked such a question. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair
before answering ”I … um .. guess so …um .. he was always fu ….
er … I mean ..um … yes he did …. a lot!!” he scowled and
looked down at his feet, as the total humiliation of having to answer
such an embarrassing question in such a public situation.
“‘A
lot’” repeated Miles “Your Dad spanked you a lot, because you
needed regular hard spankings to keep you from misbehaving! What
better evidence is there than the fact that, as soon as your Dad was
no longer able to perform his fatherly duty you stopped behaving,
went out of control and ended up where you are now!” He looked
intently at the now seriously mortified Joel. “Don’t you agree?”
“…um
…. uh ….er ….’spose!” muttered Joel. “What’s that got to do
with anything?”
“If
your Dad could still spank you like he used to, do you think you
would have done the things you have done, which got you into
trouble?”
“…dunno!”
Joel’s face now wore a fixed scowl “What’s it matter?”
“I
think you do know Joel!” smiled Miles “I think you would have
behaved yourself so as to avoid another sore bottom!”
He
turned back to the judge “As you see, your honour, when this young
man had regular discipline, in the form of bare bottom spankings, he
was an ideal, law abiding citizen, with good prospects. However,
when, as the result of his father’s tragic accident, that discipline
ceased to be applied, chaos ensued. There are some boys, your honour,
who require regular chastisement, young Joel is one of those boys.
Boys like Joel Bennett only behave themselves whilst their bottom
still stings from their last spanking. Let the sting fade for long
enough and they run riot!”
“I
certainly take your point Mr. Rutter” replied the judge “but how
is this relevant to the matter before us?”
“What
I am saying your honour” replied Miles, aware that a courtroom full
of people were hanging on his every word “is that young Joel is in
the position he is because of the lack of spanking. If you were to
release him into my custody, I will ensure that he receives all the
bare bottom spankings he has been missing, and a lot more, as and
when it is requited.”
“Hey!!
.. Hold on!!” cried Joel in horror
“Be
quite boy!” snapped the judge “please continue Mr, Rutter”
“Clearly
the aim of any judgement would be to combine the need for punishment,
with rehabilitation so that the convict can become an upstanding
member of the community.” continued Miles “With all due respect,
our prisons do not have a great track record in terms of
rehabilitation, however, as I have demonstrated, in the defendant’s
case, regular, hard, bare bottom spankings have a proven track record
of producing a well behaved member of society”.
“judge
… uh Sir .. you can’t take this shi … uh .. stuff seriously …!!”
wailed, an increasingly alarmed, Joel.
“In
have warned you boy!” boomed Judge Flinthard, “I’ll have you know
I am taking this argument seriously, and you had better be quiet
before I change my mind and send you straight to prison”
Still
terrified by the prospect of prison, Joel fell into a glowering
silence, despite the horror of what was being proposed.
The
judge frowned, clearly in deep thought “I am always open to
progressive sentencing suggestions, and there is a lot of merit to
what you say” he paused “However, how can the court be sure that
you are capable of undertaking the … ahem …task in hand?”
Miles
glanced briefly at Joel’s court appointed lawyer, who gave an almost
imperceptible wink, as his face broke into an undisguised grin. The
two men had discussed the possibility that the judge would ask this
question and, also, how best Miles should respond to it. Miles
suspected that the lawyer was looking forward to what was about to
happen a lot more that he admitted.
Then
again, so was he.
Miles then opened a briefcase on his desk and took out a shall leather paddle. He then
stepped away from the lawyer’s table and moved towards the witness
stand from where a sulky and embarrassed Joel was watching him with
barely concealed loathing. “If the court requires proof of my
ability” he answered “I would be more than happy to provide a
demonstration!”
Another
gasp ran round the court, as Miles’s reply hovered in the still air.
It took a short while before it’s meaning registered with Joel, but
when they did he recoiled in raising panic “FUCK NO!” he yelled
“NO WAY!”
If
anything was guaranteed to encourage the judge to agree to Miles’s
suggestion, Joel’s reaction was that thing. “I think that is the
least the law would expect!” barked the judge, suddenly concious of
the heat in the room, he took out a handkerchief and mopped some
beads of sweat from his brow “Is this room conducive to a
demonstration, its a bit warm!”
“I
can spank anywhere Sir” smiled Miles “Joel, will you come here
please!”
“Fuck
you faggot!” snapped Joel
“Officer
please assist Mr Rutter with his demonstration!” ordered the
judge.
The
court bailiff did not require asking twice, Joel had seriously pissed
him off during the original case, and he was looking forward to
seeing the brat get his comeuppance. He quickly strode across the
room, grabbed the violently protesting defendant by the arm and
pulled him from his chair, before leading him, with well practised
firmness, to where Miles was waiting.
“Please
hold him still officer” said Miles, before with two quick movements
he undid Joel’s belt and unzipped the front of Joel’s smart black
pants, which, being borrowed and two sizes too big, immediately fell
down to nestle embarrassingly around the shocked and humiliated
youth’s ankles.
“Thank
you Bailiff, I will take over from here!” said Miles, taking hold
of Joel and pulling the boy towards him.
Joel
was a strong and athletic nineteen year old man, usually able to
defend himself in a fight, but ten years of working on his ranch had
made the older man even stronger, and struggle as he might Joel could
not overcome the vice like grip. In desperation he lifted his fist
in an attempt to punch his would be disciplinarian, only to find his
wrist gripped and held firmly behind his back.
With
a swift and seemingly practised movement the handsome rancher bent
forward, took Joel around the waist and lifted him off his feet,
before tucking the stunned youth under his arm and holding him with
his long, tanned, athletic, legs and tight white, underpants covered,
bottom raised high in the air. 
 
Miles
raised his hand above his head, and then brought his palm down with a
hard “SMACK!” across the centre of Joel’s uplifted bottom. This
first smack was followed by a second and third, each “SMACK!”
accompanied by a furious yell of protest from Joel.
Judge
Flinthard’s voice raised above the noise “Excuse me Mr, Rutter, but
as I recall, you specifically guaranteed that the defendant would
receive ‘bare bottom spankings‘ but his bottom is clearly not
bare!”
“Indeed
you are right, your honour, I shall rectify that immediately”
replied Miles with a grin.
“NAAAH…
NOO!” Joel roared “Don’t you FUCKING DA….!!” before the words
had left his lips, he felt Miles’s firm hand grasp the waist band of
his underpants and with one purposeful yank, pulled away the last
vestige of his rapidly shrinking dignity exposing his bare, eighteen
year old, bottom to a courtroom full of observers.
“Rest
assured, your honour all spankings will be on the bare bottom in
future!” promised Joel’s new full guardian as he raised the leather paddle
high in the air in preparation for the next spanking slap.
“As
they should be!” replied Judge Flinthard approvingly “As they
should be”
Almost immediately, the paddle landed hard across the tender bare skin at the lower part
of Joel’s exposed behind, the whippy leather connecting sharply with the
centre of both cheeks at the same time. The resounding “SMACK!”
being followed, almost instantly, by an outraged yelp of pain from
Joel.
The
next couple of dozen smacks fell almost rhythmically, first on the
left cheek, then the right followed by a hard “WHACK!” across the
centre of the cheeks. 
Ever the showman, and aware that he was being
observed by a court full of people, Miles laid down the paddle and began spanking Joel with his broad and work hardened palm, swinging his spanking
arm in large loops as he smacked, as if conducting an orchestra
through a particularly lively section of music.
As
a rancher, with eight young ranch hands under his control, Miles was
an experienced spanker and his skill at the art was clearly evident
as the demonstration progressed.
Joel
was also keenly aware that the scene was being observed by a crowd of
people and the sting to his pride burned almost as powerfully as the
escalating sting in his bottom. Nothing in his 18 years of life had
prepared him for the embarrassment and humiliation of this moment.
He guessed there were around thirty people in the court that day, and
they were all watching. He remembered that two of his buddies, and
his new girlfriend were in court to support him, they were watching
right now, and he knew they would tell everyone what they had seen.
The hot pink glow of embarrassment rose in his face.
Nothing
in his life also compared to the spanking he was receiving from Mr.
Rutter. Miles was considerably stronger, fitter and more experienced
than Jole’s Dad had been, even before his accident. The many
spankings Joel had received in the past may have stung, but they were
minor by comparison to the relentless stinging bombardment his
sensitive behind was now enduring.
Miles
Rutter sure knew how to spank a guy!
Frantically
seeking an end to his torment, Joel tried struggling to free himself,
by the rancher’s grip just grew tighter, and the young miscreant’s
efforts only caused him to tip further forward raising his bare
bottom higher in the air. To his added mortification, Joel realised
that raising his bottom higher had caused his cheeks to part,
exposing the tiny tight pink button on his virgin anus to anyone who
cared to look, and he knew they were all looking.
His
most intimate crevice, unseen by anyone since his mother last changed
his diaper as a baby, was now showcased to the world, could anything
be more humiliating?
As
Joel would soon discover, life could get more humiliation, and it
soon would do.
SMACK!
..SMACK! SMACK! The hard and calloused farmer’s palm continued to
smack the unfortunate Joel’s naked backside, which had quickly turned
from ivory white to a rapidly reddening pink, as each impact left
it’s mark on the now very sore bubble butt.
Word
of the spanking demo had quickly spread round the court house, with
the result that court staff and members of the public who had been
attending other courts had all hurried to see the show and crowded
into the small courtroom, many using their cell phones to photograph
and film the scene for posterity, and social media distribution.
At
any other time, Judge Flinthard would not have permitted photography
in his court, but he was now to preoccupied with the activity in the
centre of the court. Rumours of his honour’s private interests were
proving to be well founded, and Joel’s lawyer, who was now sitting at
the table with the broadest possible grin on his face, had not been
wrong in guessing that the old man might respond favourably to Mr.
Rutter’s proposition.
“Bailiff
get the gentleman a chair!” ordered the judge.
“I
am fine standing sir!” replied Miles, looking back at the judge
while still spanking Joel with well practised aim.
“No
… no! Mr, Rutter” insisted the judge, “You must look after
your back … it will have a lot of work to do!”
The
bailiff quickly picked up the spare chair from the lawyer’s bench,
and carried it to the centre of the court room where Miles sat down
and pulled Joel over his knees in the traditional spanking position.

Then,
to Joel’s even greater humiliation. Miles picked up the paddle again and proceeded to spank him
exactly as he would a naughty little boy, except that he was being
spanked on his bare adult bottom, and in front of a courtroom full of
fascinated observers.
Joel
attempted to struggle and kick, in an effort to free himself, but the
older man was just too strong for him, and there was clearly going to
be no escape from his, mortifying and embarrassing punishment.
With
horror, Joel realised that tears were running down his cheeks, and
that he was actually crying like some little kid, in front a crowd of
increasingly amused spectators, surely nothing could be worse than
this!
Poor
Joel would soon discover that actually things could get worse and
they were about to do so.
Meanwhile,
however, this stage of Joel’s ordeal finally came to an end, when,
resisting the strong temptation to view more, the judge called for
the demonstration to end. “Thank you Mr. Rutter, we have seen
enough to reassure the court that you are more than capable of
undertaking the task you have suggested”
Miles
immediately stropped what he was doing and pushed the still
blubbering Joel off his lap, causing the boy to land heavily on his
well spanked behind, adding further discomfort and humiliation to his
already mortifying situation.
“I
am now ready to make my decision” said the Judge “The prisoner
should stand!”
Acting
in unison, Miles and the bailiff both grabbed hold of Joel, by an arm
each, and hoisted him to his feet, so that he stood between then,
facing the bench.
The
judge looked at Joel through piercing ice gray eyes his expression
clearly revealing his contempt for the young man “Joel Aaron
Bennett, you have been convicted of committing a violent felony
assault, during the course of perpetrating a robbery. These offences
were committed while you were still serving a, in my opinion,
particularly lenient sentence of probation as a result of a previous
conviction for driving a motor vehicle while under the influence of
both alcohol …” he paused for effect “and other illegal
substances!”
Joel
shifted uncomfortably from one white socked foot to the other,
wishing he had had time to put his pants back on, and still far more
impacted by the sting in his throbbing bottom than in the gravity of
the judges words. The judges next statement, however, certainly got
his attention.
“Even
without consideration of a number of previous convictions” boomed
the judge “Such behaviour warrants a lengthy period of
incarceration of no less than three to five years!”
A
chill of fear ran down Joel’s back a beads of cold sweat formed on
his brow, as he recalled the leering threats from other prisoners
while in the holding cells. He knew what fate awaited a cute white
boy in prison
The
judge allowed himself the satisfaction of watching the look of terror
flood across Joel’s handsome face before continuing “However, it is
your good luck, albeit you may not consider it as such, that you
committed a crime in one of the few remaining counties, in one of the
few remaining states, which still allow corporal punishment as part
of the judicial process and I have decided that you are uniquely
suited to such a punishment.”
Joel
stared blankly at the judge, not fully understanding what was being
said, but sure that whatever it was he would not like it.
“I
have listened to the wise words spoken in mitigation by the excellent
Mr. Rutter” continued the judge “and I am minded to agree to his
suggestion …… with certain conditions. You will be placed under
Mr. Rutters care, and will reside on his ranch in Culvers Gulch for a
minimum period of three years. Mr. Rutter will effectively act as
your guardian and parole officer …. on the following
conditions…..”
Joel
understood that part of what the judge had said, and was now certain
he would not like the rest. 
 
“In
the event that you misbehave in any way, show any impertinence, or
indeed do anything which irritates Mr. Rutter, he, or anyone he
delegates the duty to will take down whatever pants you are wearing
and spank you!”
Judge
Flinthard was delighted by the priceless look of stunned horror and
embarrassment, on Joel’s young face as he continued. “All spankings
will be on your bare bottom and will be applied as hard and as often
as you deserve them ….. which I have no doubt will be very hard,
and very often!”
Joel’s
mouth began to open and close, not unlike an extraordinarily good
looking fish, struggling for a suitably rude response to shout at the
judge, but no words came.
“Although
I have full confidence in Mr. Rutter’s dedication and efficiency, the
court will periodically inspect the progress of your punishment. The
County Sheriff’s office will undertake regular inspection visits, and
….. I, myself will make occasional unannounced visits to ensure the
sentence is being executed correctly …….. and I shall expect to
see evidence! …. “ The judge leaned forward, lifted his hand and
wagged his finger. “The court has treated you very leniently young
man. However, be under no illusion, any breach of probation,
including attempts to abscond from Mr. Rutter’s custody, will result
in immediate incarceration in a state correctional facility for a
minimum of five years!” he lifted a glass of water, and took a sip
“Do you understand?”
Wide
eyed and stiff with shock, Joel’s mouth continued to open and shut
silently.
“He
understands, your honour!” interjected Miles, “I will make sure
of that!”
“Good!
… I should hope so!” replied the Judge, standing up abruptly as
the Bailiff called upon the court to rise. “Well” he said “That
is a very suitable outcome.” the old man left the court, with a
satisfied smile on his face.
Miles
turned to Joel’s lawyer “It worked!” he said “I thought the
judge might require more persuading!”
The
lawyer smiled mysteriously “It can pay to find out a Judge’s
private interests” he said “You had better be prepared for the
old man to come calling! ….. to check on Joel’s ….progress!”
“Not
a problem” replied Miles “What now?”
“You
are both free to go” answered the Lawyer “I will arrange the
paperwork, but you had better get Joel out of here. The press will
hear of this judgement soon, and you should be gone before the
reporters arrive!”
Miles
turned to Joel “Come with me Joel” he said “We need to make a
start if we are to reach the ranch before nightfall”
“Fuck
off!” snarled Joel “I am not going anywhere with you!”
“Oh
yes you are Kid!” smiled Miles ”You don’t have a choice!”
Before
Joel knew what was happening Miles had taken hold of him, lifted him
off the ground, and thrown him over his shoulder in the traditional
‘fireman’s lift’ “What the fuck are you doing?!!” he yelled
“Taking
you to your new home kid!” replied Miles, delivering a resounding
slap to the top of Joel’s bare thigh.
That
slap, as well as stinging like mad, reminded Joel that he was still
naked from the waist down, and that, once again, his elevated bottom
was on full public display. “My pants!” he cried “where are my
pants?!!
”You
won’t need those!” laughed Miles “I am minded to keep you bare
butt on the ranch …. it will save time!” With that, he turned
sharply and began to make his way towards the door, still carrying
his new, bare bottomed, ward over his broad shoulder.
As
he did so, the courtroom full of spectators, who had just witnessed
Joel’s humiliating chastisement, Joel’s two buddies and new
girlfriend among them, broke into spontanious applause and laughter,
many again taking taking photographs, which would live forever on the
internet, and come back to embarrass Joel for years to come.
Out
in the foyer, People who had been unaware of the spectacle playing
out in court 4 spun round in amazement as as the tall man, carrying
the half naked youth over his shoulder strode past them, Joel’s
glowing, and still bright pink bottom bouncing up and down in rhythm
with Mile’s confident and somewhat jaunty pace.
Sown
the court steps and into the street they went, past crowds of people,
gasping, catcalling and laughing at such a bizarre but somehow
hilarious site, the redness of Joel’s bottom, clear evidence to all
that he had recently been spanked, adding to the amusement.
As
Joel peered over his shoulder at the laughing throng, his face
flowing no less pink than his bottom, he wished that the street
beneath Mile’s feet would open up and swallow them. However, there
was no escape from his thoroughly deserved punishment, which he
suspected had only just begun.
TO BE CONTINUED …..