Tag: The Sting of the Jungle

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Return of The Sting of the Jungle – Jungle Boy Gets the Point

Return of The Sting of the Jungle – Jungle Boy Gets the Point

“Come back here! …. you little …!!!!” the older man’s booming voice echoed through the vast, lush tropical canopy, followed by a chorus of chattering and squawking as the jungle creatures responded to the bellowing command. It was as if the rain forest trembled in anticipation of what had become the common spectacle of Tarzan disciplining his wayward stepson.

As usual, Boy had no intention of obeying the roaring command, as he knew full well what Tarzan had in mind for him, Breaking any of his jungle stepfather’s many rules inevitably resulted in either a spanking or a paddling. Being a few months shy of his 20th birthday, Boy considered himself well past such childish and humiliating punishments, and refused to submit.

Hence he was running through the jungle, pursued by a furious Tarzan.

Unfortunately for Boy, die to his spoilt, arrogant and rather sadistic nature, he was not well liked by the jungle creatures, who instinctively took Tarzan’s side, especially Cheetah the elderly but highly intelligent Chimpanzee, who appeared to derive great delight from seeing its long term tormentor, Boy receiving a well deserved punishment.

Therefore, as Boy ran past it, the wicked old chimp, deliberately tripped him up by thrusting a broken tree branch into his path.

Losing his balance, Boy tumbled forward, hitting his head on a rock, and rendering himself temporarily unconscious. At that moment, the ground began to shudder, as a great beast, Kirabo the elephant, approached down the jungle path.

As Boy lay there face down on the ground, the Chimp took the opportunity before the elephant arrived, to snatch a prized possession which it had stolen many times before, Boy’s skimpy loincloth.

As, so many times before, Boy was left bare bottomed and vulnerable.

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The Sting of the Jungle – Boy and the Stolen Loincloth

The Sting of the Jungle

Boy and the Stolen Loincloth

It was a hot and sultry day in the jungle, and boy was feeling bored. It was now many weeks since he had returned from the city, and it seemed very dull to be back in the jungle. He decided to climb up into the higher branches of the trees near to the river, in the hope of spying some maidens from the local village bathing or washing their hair on the river bank. Unfortunately for Boy, there were not village maidens in sight, just a long expanse of empty river bank.

Moodily, Boy peered into the distance in the hope of seeing anything of interest. However, although Boy could not see anything which interested him, another pair of eyes, not far from him, certainly could!!

In the branches above boy, a mischievous young chimp was also looking at something it found interesting, which was Boy’s small leather loincloth. The little primate was a highly intelligent creature and had been listening the last time Tarzan had lectured Boy, and recalled exactly what the older man had threatened to to to the careless blond youth if he lost yet another loincloth.

“That is the forth loincloth Boy have lost in a month!” the angry Jungle man had boomed “if Boy lose another one, Boy get a spanking him not ever forget!!”

As with many of the jungle animals, Boy had not endeared himself to the young chimp, as he had frequently shouted, thrown stones and been generally obnoxious to the the little animal. As such, there was little the little creature enjoyed more than watching his tormentor receiving a good hard spanking from the muscular lord of the jungle.

Moving stealthily, the little monkey crept through the branches towards Boy, who was still staring intently towards the river. Then, with one swift motion, while dangling from a branch it reached out, grabbed hold of Boy’s loincloth and tugged.

Before Boy could react, the little chimp had snatched the loincloth, leaving him stark naked, and was scrambling quickly up through the branched, clutching it’s prize and squawking gleefully.

“Give that back you little …” snarled Boy swinging round and seeing the monkey quickly ascending trough the branches, occasionally looking back and seemingly waving the loincloth at him, as if taunting him.

Boy also remembered Tarzan’s words, and was desperate not to receive another spanking from his mighty guardians leather like hands. He began climbing up the tree after the chimp, determined to retrieve his clothing.

Unlucky for Boy, he was many pounds heavier than the tiny animal, meanwhile the higher he climbed up the tree the thinner were the branches. While frantically attempting to catch the fleeing primate, he carelessly put too much of his weight on a thin and very fragile branch, which snapped beneath his feet.

Temporarily unbalanced he lost his grip of another branch, and suddenly found himself hurtling through the air. Unable to fly, there was only one way that gravity was going to take him, and that was down.

As he tumbled through the air towards what seemed like certain death on the hard ground below, he fell through a cluster of thin whippy branches, which effectively whipped and caned his bare bottom as he crashed through them, yelling in pain “OWW! … OUCH! ….OOOOW!” as he did so.

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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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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 3)

The
Sting of the City (Part 3)
(More of the Sting of the Jungle series)
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 Sting Of The City (Part 1)

The Sting of The City


Continuing
the “Sting of the Jungle” series
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.
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!”
TO
BE CONTINUED 

*******

Posted on

The Sting of the Jungle IV – Boy gets his bottom singed

Boy
sat on the edge of the lake, trying to think of something different
to do for a change. He was bored, there was only so much to do in the
jungle, apart from swinging on vines and taking a swim in the lake
there really was no fun, at least, not the sort of fun a 19 year old
boy wants to have.
He
dreamed of living in the city. In the city he could go to raves, hang
out with some cool dudes or go watch some chicks pole dance. Whereas
in the West African rainforest the closest he had got to fun had
peeping at the village girls bathing in the river, until they had
spotted him and reported him to Tarzan, with the inevitable
consequences.

He
left the lake and headed back into the jungle, deciding he would build
a camp fire and roast a yam and some sweet potatoes.
Unfortunately
for the jungle creatures, when Boy was bored his sadistic streak came
out, and having no humans smaller than himself available to bully,
he often enjoyed torturing small animals. He was in just such a mood when, after he had made the
camp fire, Boy spotted an unwary frog hopping by.

Boy’s
agile young body was swifter than the frog, he quickly caught it and
laughing cruelly he dangled the unlucky creature over the flames.
As
usual, however, Boy’s luck ran out just as he had begin to enjoy
himself, as Tarzan strode into the clearing and saw what he was
doing.
Tarzan
strode forward, snatched the frog from boy’s hand and dropped it
safely into the grass.
Suspecting a spanking was on the cards, Boy attempted to escape, but too late, Tarzan
grabbed him by the wrist with one hand while he tore off the younger
man’s loin cloth with the other. Tarzan then lifted boy up and held
him bottom down over the camp fire “How do you like it?” he snarled
“How do you feel being dangled over the fire?” he lowered Boy
closer to the flames “Shall I drop you?” he demanded “should I
throw your bottom into the fire, just as you were about to do to that poor frog?”
Boy
could feel the heat from the flames, just a few feet from his
backside, his instinctive desire to struggle tempered by the fear
that doing so might actually cause Tarzan to drop him.
“I
tell you what” growled Tarzan, “I am going to toast your backside
anyway!” with that, he sat down on a fallen tree trunk and threw
Boy over his lap. “If you are going to be cruel to animals, I
shall be cruel to you!” he said, and, with that, he proceeded to
give Boy’s bare bottom a long, hard and very well deserved spanking.
Finally,
after a very long spanking, Tarzan stormed off, leaving Boy rubbing
his very sore bottom.

Boy
spotted the frog and with the lopsided logic of the very selfish,
decided that the poor creature was somehow to blame for what had
happened. He aimed a kick at the frog which sent it flying through
the air. However, the violence of the kick caused boy to loose his
balance.
It
seemed that Karma had come back to burn our bad boy on the ass, as he
stumbled and fell backwards
Landing
bare bottom first into the smouldering camp fire
“Ahhh!!!”
boy screamed in genuine agony as his, already very sore and tender
bottom landed heavily amongst the flames and red hot coals. Fate had
decided to to deliver justice in a very painful manner.

 

Boy
jumped to his feet, clutching his well singed behind.
Letting
out an agonized shriek he ran through the jungle clutching his
bottom, desperate to reach water to cool his roasted behind.
On
reaching the rived boy lowered his punished and burnt behind into the
water in an attempt to cool off the burning pain. However, it would be many days before his bottom stopped stinging

Meanwhile
boys carelessly placed camp fire set fire to a large area of jungle
causing serious damage to the local environment.
Later,
Tarzan rubbed soothing cream into Boy’s griddled rump, and as he did
so lectured the younger man about the damage he had caused and
telling him exactly what would be done to him once his bottom had
healed.

It
would take a couple of weeks for Boy’s bottom to recover, and return
to it’s usual pert, white and very spankable state. However, Boy decided
he had no intention of still being around when it did, as he knew
what Tarzan had planned.
That
night as Tarzan slept, Boy stole the older man’s savings and then
took the canoe down river to the nearest city, where he used the
money to purchase a one way ticket to America.
As
Boy made his escape, he hoped he would also escape the pain in the
ass which his life had become! However, little did he know the
sangoma’s curse had not gone away and would follow him across the Atlantic …..
The
End??

Posted on

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 2)


Click here for Sting of the Jungle III (part1)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End
Posted on

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 1)

 Part 1

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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