Tag: The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt

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The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Four – pt 2)

The
Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt 
(Part Four – pt 2)
Ignoring
the handsome older knight, Tybalt’s, anxious warnings Crispin had
continued to curse and threaten the monks, now, too late, he realised
what a mistake he had made. He had disregarded his new friends plea
for him to stop, and now he would pay a painful price.
A
group of the monks took hold of Crispin and unshackled him from the
alter, and then dragged him from the room, leaving a sad eyed Tybalt
still kneeling, strapped to the table, in a most undignified manner,
with the remnants of the fire root phallus still protruding from his
rear.
The
grinning monks, half dragged and half carried the struggling and
protesting Crispin down seemingly endless corridors, before they
reached an open courtyard at the back of the great building.
Having
become accustomed to the gloom inside the monastery, Crispin blinked
in the sunlight as he took in his new surroundings. In the middle of
the courtyard were a number of dome like objects, made from platted
wicker. Crispin did not recognise the structures, but as he was
dragged closer to them he could hear the buzzing of bees. Earlier he
had not understood Tybalt’s warning “They will take you to the
hives!” but now his fellow captives words echoed ominously in his
head.
The
monks then roughly held him down as they tied ropes around his legs,
just below his knees, and then attached them tightly to his wrists.
When
he was fully secured they began tugging on the ropes, which were
looped over a large wooden pole protruding from the side of the
building, and quickly hoisted Crispin up with his legs in the air,
with his lower body and bottom dangling below, now mere inckes from
the wicker hives.
Then
the older Monk began to chant in a high, almost “sing-song”
voice, while another monk handed him a colourful glazed ceramic jug.
The first monk then produced a small wooden batten from his cassock,
and began stirring the contents of the jug. When he took it out it
was coated with golden honey.
He
then used the wooden batten to smear the honey all the cheeks of
Crispin’s bottom until it glistened gold in the sunlight.
Crispn
was outraged, yet confused at this latest humiliation, why on Earth
would they cover his backside with fresh honey?!! Whatever their
plan, he knew he would not enjoy it.
“Ha!
Sir Knight!” chuckled the Monk “Now you have a golden arse!!”
his comment eliciting cruel laughter from the other monks “Shall we
see what out little friends think of it?” he asked before taking
hold of a paddle which one of the younger monks had brought with
them, and proceeded to hit the sides of the hives.
Instantly
a large swarm of angrily buzzing bees cam streaming out of the tiny
entrance, like a furious black cloud.
The
monks retreated to a safe distance to watch the entertainment, as the
bees become immediately attracted by the sweet honey and began
swarming round Crispin’s dangling bottom.
To
his increasing horror, Crispin now realised the purpose of the honey
“NO PLEASE!!” he cried “UNTIE ME … PLEASE!!!”
The
sadistic monks just laughed and clapped their hands with delight.
The monks were enjoying the spectacle, and as Tybalt was still
shackled to the central altar with a fire root dildo up his bum,
nobody was going to come to Crispin’s aid.
Crispin
cried out in terror as the first bee landed on his his honey coated
rump, at fist of just crawled over the surface feeding on the honey,
but then, alarmed by Crispin’s horrified shiver reacted by
instinctively stinging Crispin’s already highly sensitive butt cheek
.
Seconds
later a second bee landed, and then a third, and a fourth. Each
arrival followed the same pattern, with Crispin receiving repeated
painful stings in what had become the most tender part of his body.
“Our
little friends will teach you a lesson in respect young gallant!”
called the older monk, as the others cheered their approval.
Realising
that sudden movements were disturbing the bees and making them sting
him, Crispin tried with all his resolve to stay still, but it proved
impossible. His instinctive repulsion at having insects crawling on
him combined with the fact that he was dangling uncomfortably in the
air, caused him to shake and tremble involuntarily, and each quiver
was greeted with a sharp sting from a startled bee.
Over
the following hours Crispin would be sting a hundred and more times
by visiting bees, attracted by the sweet and glistening honey.
Meanwhile the monks eventually returned to their ungodly devotions,
leaving Crispin dangling above the hives, and surrounded by buzzing
bees.
Later,
as night fell, there was no respite for the unlucky young knight,
for, although many bees returned to their hives as the daylight
faded, they were replaced by other stinging insects which were
similarly attracted by the remaining honey still covering Crispin’s
cute, but very sore bottom.
As
Crispin hung there through the long and uncomfortable Knight, he
wondered with dread what other catastrophes and humiliations lay
ahead on his ill starred adventure!
It
would not be long before he found out!! 
_________________

Note: Sorry for repeating a
punishment previously inflicted on Boy in the Sting of the Jungle,
but it was requested, and I felt that Crispin deserved it!!
 
.
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The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Four – pt 1)

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

.
Posted on

The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt Part three (continued)

 
The
Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt

Part three
(2 of 2 ) – Our naughty Knight gets the bare bottom spanking he
deserves
Crispin
attempted to struggle free from the large Monk’s grip , but soon realised that beneath his
adversary’s all covering brown robe was a body of considerable
strength and steel like muscles, which even his fit young body could
not resist.
To
make matters worse, a second monk, who also proved to be a powerfully
built individual arrived and assisted the first on restraining the
helpless but struggling Crispin.
Together
they dragged the unhappy and protesting young knight over to a bench,
sat down and pulled their handsome captive over their knees.
While
the newly arrived monk, held Crispin’s legs, the senior monk pulled
up the youth’s black gown until the whole of his lower body, from his
firm, slim waist down was exposed. The monk looked down at the bottom
he had so recently, and lovingly anointed with healing oils and
chuckled “Well well my young valiant” he said “That pretty rump
of yours will soon burn worse that it did when you first arrived!”
“No
please good friar!” wailed Crispin “Please have mercy on me!”
“There
shall be no mercy or forgiveness for a sinner here!” snapped the
monk “you will be chastised as you deserve to be!” he paused “and
as penance for your pride and arrogance your punishment will be
appropriately enhanced ….. Brother Samuel, bring forth the fire
root!”
A
third monk appeared carrying a silver platter, upon with there was a
strange looking peeled vegetable root, and gingerly lifted a carrot
shaped segment between his thumb ad forefinger as he approached the
trio.
“Fire
root …?” stammered Crispin nervously
“The
fire root comes from the land of monsoons and smoking mountains to
the south, it earned it’s name because when it’s juices touch your
skin, it burns like the great lord’s hottest furnaces!” replied the
speaking monk. “as you will soon discover …!”
“Great
lord? …. furnaces?” gasped Crispin “who are you ….. what is
this order?”
“Insert
the root Brother!” said the monk, interrupting and ignoring
Crispin’s question “You will be anxious to be rid of it for it must
be burning your fingers!”

The
third monk stepped forward, and swiftly forced the segment of peeled
root he was holding between the raised cheeks of Crispin’s exposed
bottom, and up into his tight anus, which as an automatic protective
instinct, gripped tightly round it. As soon as the plug of fire root
touched his skin Crispin understood why it was so called, as a
burning sensation almost as intense as the dragon’s fiery breath
spread from the puckering pink portal lips of his rectum, to deep
with inside him. Tears brimmed in the young knights watering eyes and
he he cried out in genuine pain
The
monk’s laugh had a clear note of cruel delight to it, at the sound of
Crispin’s scream “the fire root will ensure that even your most
hidden and intimate parts will feel the force of your well deserved
punishment!”
With
that the laughing monk raised his large leathery and well calloused
hand high into the air and an d brought it down with a loud SMACK! On
Crispins, still sore and tender, recently scorched bottom. The first
smack was followed by a second, third, fourth and more, while the
second monk grasped his legs, and the third, having laid down his
silver platter joined his fellows and held Crispin’s head and scolders firmly in
place.
Crisip
had not been spanked over a knee since he he was a an infant, hence
this punishment was as humiliating to the proud young knight as it
was painful, and it was certainly extremely painful. 

 
His torment was
made worse by the fact he could not help tensing his anal muscles in
anticipation of each smack, which had the unfortunate effect of
crushing the feague of fire root gripped by the tender pink bud of
his anus and causing still more of the scalding Juice across the rim
of that most sensitive and vulnerable of orifices.

Crispin’s
burning rectum was now a ring of fire nestling between the two
stinging red orbs of his buttocks. 
 
The
monks took turns in punishing Crispin, who they had soon stripped
naked, as his cries and the repeated slapping of their hands on his
red and well fired behind.
Finally
the stopped but still held the struggling and weeping young knight
captive in their grasp. The older monk looked into Crispin’s tear
stained face, “We are not finished with you yet my young valiant!”
he grinned “You are now our prisoner and we will do with you as we
will!”
“Please!”
cried Crispin “You have punished me enough! Now set me free!!”
“Hah!”
laughed the Monk “there will be no freedom for you Sir knight, you
you will provide us with much entertainment and diversion in the
coming days and weeks!”
The
monks then dragged the miserable Crispin Cherrybutt down to the
catacombs beneath the monastery. 
 

When they reached a small door in
the wall, they opened it and pushed Crispin through sending him
tumbling bottom first down a flight of stone stairs, his well
spanked, scorched and fire root figged bottom hitting each step as he
bounced down, before landing with a THUD! On the hard dungeon floor.
As he landed he heard the door slamming behind him followed by the
sound of metal bolts slamming into place. He was now the monks’
prisoner.
As
Crispin lay on the floor his hands grasping hie well spanked and fire
root scorched behind, a sense of deep fear and desolated seeped
through him, as he wondered what entertainments and diversions the
brothers had in store for him, and what sort of devilish sect had he
stumbled upon.
Then
a voice spoke to him from the darkness “Who are you Sir Knight?”
it spoke with an unmistakably noble tone “Are you a prisoner too?
Have the Gods at last blessed me with a companion in this hellish
ordeal?”
In
mounting fear Crispin scoured inky blackness of the cell and could
just make out a dark shame in the corner. The shape moved, and he
knew he was not alone ……..
TO
BE CONTINUED
Posted on

The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt (Part 3)

The
Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt
Part three (1 of 2)
– Crispin meets the Brothers
When
he first viewed the huge building, looking out of the darkness,
Chrispin had imagined he had come across a castle, however, as he
moved closer, he realised that it more closely resembled a religious
building , although the absence of any religious symbolism seemed
initially puzzling. He approached the large and heavy wooden door,
and felt a sense of foreboding which he attempted to dismiss by
reminding himself that he was a brave knight, who had only recently
fought a dragon, his mind proud mind quickly seeking to draw a veil
over his humiliating defeat, at the hands, or more aptly, the fiery
breath of that beast.
He
knocked on the door, and heard the rattle of his own knuckles on the
ancient timber echoing in the corridors within.
After
what seemed like an age, the door was opened by a cowled monk, who
silently gestured him to enter, and then follow him down a long dark
passageway, although he was a little unnerved by the monk’s mute
demeanour, his options were somewhat limited, and, as he kept
reminding himself he was a brave knight, for whom there was nothing
to fear in the dark chambers beyond.
The
then came upon two further monks, who stepped forward to greet him.
Although like the first monk, one of these two also remained silent,
a third, who appeared to the more senior, did speak, a deep gravelly
voice growling from within his face concealing cowel. “What brings
you to our door Sir Knight?” he asked “Very few travellers come
to this lonely place.”
“I
have travelled far, Good friar!” replied Crispin “I came on a
quest to slay a dragon!”
“The
dreadful fire breathing beast, which has been terrorising the land
these last decades?” asked the gravel voiced monk
Crispin
frowned, at the mention of the dragon’s fiery breath, and nodded.
Although, he was anxious to regale the monks with tales of his daring
do, the burning main in his rump was a more pressing priority,
especially as holy men, such as these, were often in possession of
balms and ointments, which might relieve his discomfort. “Sadly I
have suffered an injury.” he said “And I hope you could be of
assistance!”
Despite
his embarrassment at the location of his “injury” he turned and
showed his scorched bottom to the monks. The two, previously silent
Monks, murmured sympathetically, whilst the friar with the deep voice
first sucked air through his teeth before saying gently “My my, Sir
Knight, that must be giving you some distress, but fear not, we have
many remedies for burns and scalds sch as those, we will have that
handsome young rump of yours back to it’s painless white purity in no
time!”
Crispin
sighed with relief, that was the good news he was hoping for. “I
will be forever grateful to you good friars, if you can ease my
pain!” he said.
The
monks lead him into an inner chamber with a very elaborate but
somewhat Byzantine looking altar and a number of disturbing wall
paintings. Chrispin again, briefly pondered the lack of familiar
religious symbolism, but concluded that the gentle brothers must
belong to a sect with which he was not acquainted.
The
monks, assisted the young knight in removing his heavy armour, and
when he was naked asked him to lay, on is stomach, on a high table in
front of the strange altar.
The
speaking monk, looked down at Crispin’s rosy upturned bottom, and, as
if unable to resist temptation, raised his hand and gave Crispin’s
sore bottom a gentle slap. “That does look sore Sir Knight!” he
said
“OWCH!”
snapped Crispin, looking angrily over hios shoulder.
“I
do apologise Sir Knight!” came the reply, Crispin could not see the
monk’s face, but an intuition told him that deep under the folds of
his hood, the man was grinning.
That
fleeting thought vanished, as a second monk appeared carrying as
container of musk scented oil, and allowed a few drops to fall onto
Crispin’s bottom. The gravel voiced monk then proceeded to massage
the oil into the red and scorched skin. At first Crispin gasped at
the pain caused by the older man’s hands on his tender skin. 

 Then
slowly, as the monk continued to rub the oil into his flesh, he could
feel the burning sensation gradually fading. He realised that the
pain he had been living with for many hours was fading.
“What
is that wondrous balm?” he asked, the relief palpable in his voice
“This
oil is much prized for its mystical healing qualities and and
efficacy as a pain reliever Brother Samuel brought it back from his
travels in the northern lands, where it is greatly valued.” replied
the friar as he continued to almost lovingly massage the oil into
Crispin.
Later
that evening, one of the silent monks, ushered Crispin to a small bed
chamber off one of the passage way, where first he fed him with newly
baked bread, washed down with a flask of blood red wine. 
Then the
monk bathed the handsome young knight gently washing away the dust
and sweat from his long arduous journey and the residue of the oil
left from the earlier treatment.
Although
Crispin was not inclined to enjoy the touch of another mail, he
tolerated it for the relief it brought. When the Monk gently washed
his behind, it was not the agony it would have been an hour before.
The young knight’s bottom still stung and tingled, but it was no
longer the searing pain the dragon had left him with.
Finally,
the kindly monk, anointed the young Knight’s body with cologne, and
gently dressed him in the clean black robes of a postulate, before
bowing out and leaving him to sleep in the newly prepared bed.
However,
sleep was the last thing that Crispin intended to do. As he had bed
led through the passage ways earlier, Crispin had chanced to glance
into a number of the chambers as they had passed, and he had seen the
monastery’s glistening treasure. Golden bowls and ceremonial
goblets, gold and silver candle holders and incense burner’s
encrusted with gem stones.
Such
items would bring him wealth if sold, or melted down upon his return
to his home town, and that was exactly what Crispin planned. He might
not retun with the fame of a dragon killer but he would have the
compensation of being a rich man.
The
generous monks might have taken him in, treated his wounds, fed,
washed and clothed him, and given him a bed for the knight. However,
he felt no sense of gratitude to them, they owned the treasure he
lusted for, and he intended take it from them.
The
monk had spoken of the brothers travelling to far away lands, so, he
concluded, the monastery must have a stable, from which he could
steal a horse and escape with his booty, before the monks knew it had
gone.
In
the middle of the night Crispin slipped out of the tiny bedchamber
where the gentle monk had left him, and crept through the dark
passage way, carrying a sack he had fashioned from his blanket. He
did not have to search for long before he reached a room he had spied
earlier, and could the precious items glimmering in a beam of
moonlight shining through a small window.
The
young knight hurried about his work, grabbing at the gold items laid
out on a large wooden altar, and stuffing them into his rudimentary
sack. 

One particular item was a large golden goblet, which he held
up in the moonlight to get a better view. It was a magnificent object
of pure gold, with the stem encrusted with precious gem stones, which
had been lovingly crafted by some artisan goldsmith possessed of
incredible talent.
However
the greedy young knight did not see the beauty or artistry in the
object he held, he only saw it’s monetary value, and the wealth it
would bring to him when the gold was melted down and the glittering
stones sold on for jewellery.
“My
My, You are a naughty young rascal are you not Sir knight!” a
familiar deep voice boomed from the darkness behind him. Crispin was
briefly frozen by shock, he dropped the goblet, as a muscular,
sackcloth covered arm encircled his waist, and a large calloused hand
gripped the black cotton of his gown lifting it up to reveal the
knight’s long bare legs and, still pink, and tender buttocks. 

Then
before Chrispin could react the monk’s free hand descended with
considerable force onto that same vulnerable bottom, causing our
flawed but handsome hero to cry out in pain.
“Now
we will show you what happens to naughty young knights who try to rob
the poor!” boomed the angry friar, with a tone in his voice which
made very clear, Crispin would not enjoy what happened next.
TO
BE CONTINUED
More
of Singeing Crispin Cherrybutt will be posted tomorrow
Posted on

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Two)

Part
two: Crispin and the Kingdom of the Ants
Crispin
had managed to put as much distance as he could between himself and
the lair of that terrible fire breathing dragon which had so cruelly
flame toasted his handsome, but now very sore, young behind. However,
there was still a long way to go.
Even
by travelling day and night, there was a long arduous ride ahead for
Crispin to get back to his home town. Yet he was desperate to get
there as soon as possible, so that he could consult the apothecary,
in the hope that the wise old man could provide some cooling and
soothing cream or balm for his scorched bottom. His muscles were
tiring, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to to keep his
burning behind raised off the hard and sun ray heated leather saddle,
and he knew he could not manage to do so for much longer.
Frantic
to get home and to some relief, he angrily urged his horse to move
faster with a series of slaps, kicks and furious commands, yelled
directly into the poor beast’s ear.
They
now had to cross miles of open and parched desert, where the heat was
becoming unbearable and the heated saddle was now painful to touch
even without a singed bottom. Given the increasing discomfort,
Crispin was anxious to cross the desert and reach higher, cooler,
land as soon as possible.
“Faster,
you lazy brute!” he shouted kicking hard against the horse’s flank,
and slapping it hard on the neck “If you don’t more faster, I will
feed your carcass to the King’s hunting hounds when we get home!”
he cried.
The
young horse, had already developed a strong dislike for his cruel and
abusive young owner, long before they had embarked on the latest
journey, and it was becoming more and more irritated by the shouts
and blows which Crispin was inflicting upon it. The grumpy steed was
reluctant to move any faster in the exhausting heat, at least not
whilst carrying such an uncomfortable burden.
The
animal therefore concluded that the preferable solution would be to
eject the hated burden at the earliest opportunity. 

Crispin
was an experienced rider, but he was distracted by the burning pain
in his bottom, and was not expecting the hose to suddenly kick back
with its hind legs and violently buck it’s back, throwing it’s rider
up into the air, before galloping away, and leaving the young knight
plummeting, bottom first, towards the ground.

Click on the READ MORE tab below to continue:

As
luck would have it Crispin landed on a mound of earth which gave way
beneath his weight, cushioning his fall and causing his bottom to
slip into a dip beneath him. At first it seemed that he had
encountered his first bit of good luck that day as the crumbling
earth had softened what would otherwise have been a hard and painful
landing.
However,
then he realised that, rather than landing in a dip in the earth, his
bottom had actually broken through the roof of an ant dug chamber
beneath and he was effectively sitting in a hole in the earth. Then
it dawned on him what the structure he had landed in actually was.
To his horror he realised he had landed bare ass first into a fire
ant hill. The fire ants of that ancient land truly lived up to their
name, although tiny, their bite was ferocious and exuded a powerful
fire like venom causing a searing and throbbing pain which could last
for hours and sometimes, if you were really unlucky, for days.
Crispin
had been bitten by a fire ant once as a child, and he had no wish to
repeat the experience. He attempted to spring to his feet, but found
he could not, he was stuck with his bottom wedged into a tight hole
and thrust into an underground chamber of an ant hill.
For
a moment he hoped that perhaps the ant hill had been abandoned and
that he was in fact stuck in an empty ant hill. However, that hope
was swiftly proved wishful thinking as he felt the fist tickling
sensation of tiny insect feet on his dragon toasted skin.
He
knew what was coming before it came, and in a frantic panic he
struggled to free himself, pushing against the crumbling earth and
kicking his legs in the air. However, this merely resulted in
wedging him even more tightly into the hole which his landing had
created.
The
first ant bite was like a new sheet of flame burning his skin as if
the dragon was in the hole beneath him blowing its fiery breath
upwards at its chosen target. A second and third ant bit followed and
each had the same effect as the last one. Each fierce little insect
clamping its jaws into his his tender scorched skin and unleashing it
burning poison into the young knight’s already punished posterior.
Crispin’s
piercing screams of agony rang round the empty desert, but as his
mount had already vanished at full gallop over the horizon, their was
no sentient creature, save ants to hear them.
 
Finally,
after what seemed like an age, the brittle earth began to give way,
and by straining his every youthful muscle, was able to free himself.
He jumped up, and ran through the desert, the sun baked sand burning
the soles of his bare feet as he went. However, that pain was as
nothing next to the burning fire in his dragon scorched and ant
bitten bottom, which, for Chrispin was now at the very centre of a
world of pain.
The
fire in his rump had hardly eased at allwhen, many hours of painful
walking later, and as night began to fall, he reached the edge of the
desert.
He
trudge for another mile or so, and then realised he was totally lost,
unsure if he was even heading in the right direction. As the fear he
would never find his way home began to grip him, be became aware of a
light in the distance. 
 He walked towards that light, and as he
rounded a small hill he could see the silhouette of a large building,
standing out against the night sky. From the burning torch outside
the large wooden door, it was clear the building was occupied …
with humans. People who might be able to help him, people who may
have ointments, oils and balms which could extinguish the fire in his
behind.
As
he limped towards the building, his spirits began to lift in the hope
that he had found sanctuary and that his nightmare was finally over.
TO
BE CONTINUED
Posted on

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part One)

The
Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt
 

Part
one: Our Hero’s Buns get Toasted
  
In
a time long ago, and in a land far away, there lived a handsome young
Knight. Fair of face and blessed with a fit and lithe young body, he
was, at first sight, everything a romantic novelist, or a teller of
noble tails would dream of. However, he may have possessed physical
beauty, but that was were his fairy fairy tail qualities ended. In
addition to dashing good looks, a Romantic Hero must have other many
virtues, such as nobility, integrity, honour, chivalry and kindness,
in all these areas, the young Knight was sorely lacking.
In
his own mind however, he was near perfect, all that was needed he
believed, was for others to know it too.
Not
only was Crispin Cherrybutt the handsomest knight in the land, he was
determined to prove himself to be the bravest, and he would do so by
slaying the fearsome dragon which had been terrorising the local
countryside.
Many
brave nights had tried before him without success, but arrogant young
Crispin was convinced that he would be the one to succeed where
others had failed. It was with this pride and the conviction of his
own superiority, that he had set out on his quest.
It
had been a long journey to reach the Dragon’s layer, but it would be
worth it, as he stood outside the entrance to the cave where the
terrible creature had made its nest, he paused to contemplate the
tributes and honours he would receive when he returned with the
dragon’s head on the end of a pike. He was also sure he would
receive a fortune in gold from the king and, in addition he it would
be his right to deflower all the loveliest maidens in the kingdom.
Other
knights had travelled to this same destination seeking honour and
also to rid the land of a terrible menace. However, such altruistic
considerations did not occur to Chrispin, he thought only of the
wealth, acclaim and sexual pleasuring which success would bring him.
Yes,
he thought, he would be a hero when he returned with such a trophy.
Click on the READ MORE tab below to continue:

However,
the wily old dragon had other plans for the proud young Knight,
rather than returning as a triumphant hero, once the beast had
finished with him he would slink home as a defeated boy, with a very
sore bottom.
As
soon as young Chrispin set foot in the Dragon, cave, the bravado,
which had powered his quest deserted him, and was replaced by
nervousness and by his inflated sense of self preservation. He
attempted to steel his courage by thinking of the wealth slaying the
beast would bring him, and all the eager wenches who would surrender
their virtue to him. However, try as he might, those prospects no
longer seemed quite so attractive when they depended upon confronting
a dragon. 
 

A
shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the tales he had heard of
dragons, who, it was said, not only ate young knights like him, but
cooked them alive first with their fiery breath. Beads of sweat
appeared on his forehead as he struggled to dismiss his fear. He
resolved that to explore just the first chamber of the cavern, and,
if he did not find the dragon there, he would leave and go home.
Crispin’s
nerves would be in an even worse state, and his decision to search
only the outer chamber appear even less shrewd, if he had looked
behind him-and seen the large scaly shape lurking in the shadows and
observing his every move.
The
elderly dragon had been aware of the handsome young knight’s arrival
since he had first ridden up to the entrance of the cave. He knew
what Crispin’s intentions were, as he was not the first to try,
however from long experience the dragon was adept at dispatching such
nuisances.
However,
the dragon was in an uncharacteristically amiable mood, he had
feasted well on a bullock he had taken from local farm, and did not
have any desire to eat man flesh at that time. However, he was
resolved to teach the young upstart a lesson he would not forget,
and, being a dragon, he was well equipped to do so!
Silently,
despite his size, the creature follwed the young knight as he
nervously ventured further into the cave, awaiting the opportune
moment to strike.
Moments
later, young Crispin Cherrybutt presented the waiting dragon with the
perfect opportunity, when he bent forward tp peer into one of the
smaller inner chambers of the cavern.
In
that far away land, following the examples set by those such as the
Greeks and the Spartans, the young warrior were all but naked beneath
their armour.

 Thus it was that the sight of Chrispin’s perfect,
shapely and hairless bare bottom thrust towards him, like a cannibal
banquet, as he bent, was a dizzyingly tempting target which no self
respecting dragon could resist.
The
old dragon did not resist temptation for one moment, and ceasing the
opportunity to teach the impertinent intruder the lesson he so dearly
deserved, he breathed in, and the opening his vast jaws in a blood
curdling roar, exhaled a stream of flame aimed directly at the
exposed seat of the arrogant young nuisance in front of him. Striking
right on the tight divide in the middle, and spreading across each
bare cheek. 

As
the flames hit his tender skin, Crispin let out an ear-splitting
shriek of agony, and leaped three feet into the aim clutching at his
toasted buns. The pain was like something he had never experience
before, and he instantly knew, without looking round what had caused
it.
He
spun round and saw what he had known would be there, and it was even
more fearsome than he could have imagined. The dragon stared back at
him, and its jaws twisted into what Crispin was convinced was a cruel
and sardonic grin of satisfaction.
Crispin
did not waste a moment, and with the terror enhancing his already
outstanding agility, he dodged past the dragon, and ran full pelt out
of the cave still clutching his dragon’s breath seared bottom.
The
dragon let out a second roar and shot out another fiery stream of
flame, which despite Crispin’s swift and greyhound attempt to avoid
it, succeeded in singeing Crispin’s fingers and the tops of the
insides of his thighs.
With
the speed of the athlete he was, Crispin ran out of the cave and over
to where he had tethered his steed.
The
dragon did not follow, he was too full of fattened bullock to run
after a healthy young buck, and anyway his intention had only been to
scare the impudent boy away, and leave hima token to remember him by.
Crispin
would certainly never forget the dragon and his well singed bottom
would keep the memory fresh for days to come. He had a two and a half
day ride home ahead on him, and he would feel every bump.
As
the tears of pain and humiliation rand down Crispin’s still
devastatingly handsome face and he strained every muscle in an
impossible attempt to keep his sore and well scorched bottom from
contacting with with the hard and sun heated saddle, he could not
have known that his painful adventures had only just begun.
_______________________
Notes:
i) Part one was inspired by regular reader Sammie.
ii)
This story is by way of an intermission, “The Shaman’s Revenge will
continue soon.
.