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.

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The Sting of the jungle will continue.