Monday, 30 September 2013
Sting of the Jungle III (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)