The Shaman's Revenge (Part 1)

The Shaman's Revenge Part 1

Click here to read the prologue

Capsaicin College was a handsome, if rambling, mid 18^th Century Colonial Mansion set in extensive grounds, much of which had been converted into sports fields, running tracks and tennis courts where pupils were required to undergo strenuous exercise, reflecting the founder's belief that the discipline of the young male body was the door the health, enlightenment and well being of both mind and body.

The great house had been converted into an educational establishment for the sons of Southern Gentlemen in the early 1930's after the crash and depression of the 20's had left its previous owners unable to maintain its upkeep. As with all old buildings Capsaicin's ageing infrastructure remained a challenge for the College administration, hence the small staff of gardeners, carpenters and handymen were kept fully employed ensuring it remained in the high standard of repair which was expected for such a prestigious establishment.

It was on a sultry late morning in mid July when some members of the College faculty, including the Deputy principle and the Head Sports Coach accompanied Will Bryant, the Caretaker as they wondered around the building inspecting its current state of repair.

On reaching the side of the building where the old stable block had been converted into a large modern locker room and showers, the Deputy Principle, Henry Graves, pointed to a large oblong shape nestling in the eves. “Those are hornets aren't they?” he asked “How long has that nest been there?” 

 

“It must be quite new replied” Will, secretly irritated that his young assistant, Chase Coulby (the lazy young brat) had not alerted him to the problem during his preliminary inspection earlier that day. “It certainly was not there when we carried out maintenance on the roof over the Spring break”

“We will need to get rid of that quite quickly!” snapped Prof. Graves

“Those brutes can give a nasty sting!”

“I will get young Coulby onto it next week Sir” replied Will

“I can think of a few of our male students who might benefit from a good sting on the bottom!” chuckled Hector Carruthers, the septuagenarian music professor. The comment was greeted with a smile of approval from Thor Amundsen, the ruggedly handsome, head coach with a twinkle in is pale blue eyes, which slightly unnerved some of the other faculty members.

“Perhaps so!” replied Prof. Graves, irritably “However, we could do without the parents suing us!” with that, the group moved on, leaving their elderly colleague’s prophetic words hanging in the air.

A half hour later 18 year Jordan Draper came running across the old courtyard heading for the locker room. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of blue speedos and rubber “flip flop” sandals, his healthy and athletic body and dark brown hair still glistening wet from the pool, where he had been practising his diving for the forthcoming tournament with a neighbouring school.

Arrogant, and pleased with himself, Jordan was the handsomest senior at Capsaicin. He was good at sports and a popular success with the local girls, a number of whose hearts he had carelessly broken in the last year. Who cared if his grades were poor, Sporting success was what mattered at Capsicin and in Jordan's mind he was everything he wanted to be, the top jock on campus, the best looking guy in town, for Jordan life was good.

Of course, with the incident with the old man earlier that day forgotten, Jordan could not know that his lifelong good luck was about to desert him.

Upon entering the locker room Jordan sauntered over to the bench where he had left his sports bag, unzipped it and pulled out a can of soda from which he took two large swigs, before carelessly tossing the can down on to the bench beside him, allowing the heavily sugared liquid to spill onto the painted wooden surface.

The handsome lad then kicked off his flip flops and stripped off his speedos, which he slung, still dripping wet into his sports bag. Despite being now completely naked, on such a hot and humid day, the locker room was uncomfortably stuffy, so Jordan stood on the bench and opened one of the skylight windows hoping to let some air in, whilst blissfully unaware that he would be allowing more than just air into the room.

Picking up his towel, he strode, bare foot and butt naked towards the showers in the next door room, his hairless, tan-line white, bottom bouncing from side to side, as if it's pert firmness expressed the casual arrogance of Jordan's proud and care-free attitude. 

 

Throwing his towel onto the shiny paved floor, and stepping into the shower, the hottest jock on the swimming team turned on the shower and stood there in all his late teenage glory, enjoying the sensation of the warm, yet refreshing water pouring over his perfectly formed athlete's body.

As the hot water cascaded down over the smooth pearl white globes of his perfect bottom, Jordan's thoughts were on the hot date he had planned for that evening, with one of the hottest chicks that the campus had to offer. Little did the handsome swimmer know that far from indulging in the pleasures of a hot date, he would be spending the evening nursing a very sore bottom.

__________________________________

On another part of the campus twenty-year-old Chase Coulby was heavily occupied in matters which had little to do with the job he was paid to do. Idly pretending to paint the fence near the lacrosse court, his deep hazel green eyes were actually focused on the figures running back and forth across the court.

Although historically a male only college Capsaicin had bowed to the orthodoxies of the age, and two years previously had opened its doors to a small number of female students. It was upon a group of these young ladies, members of the girl's lacrosse team, that Chase's lascivious eyes were feasting.

Chase was a good looking lad, who, not unlike Jordan Draper, had no difficulty in getting girlfriends. However, like most young men, one girl was never enough, and the local girls were not as enticing as the rich men's daughters at Capsaicin. The Caretaker's young assistant took secret pleasure in spying on scantily clad females playing sports. And when he wanted to see more, which he usually did, his job at the College provided him with a number of opportunities to do so.

Chase grinned to himself, the lacrosse game would end soon, and then the young ladies would be heading for their locker room, and when they did, he would follow them there!!

Back in men's locker room, two new figures had just crept into the room. Glancing quickly around to ensure that there was nobody else there, the new arrivals, being more occupied with each other, failed to hear the sound of running water coming from the showers next door.

Turning face to face, Rubin Dorbny and Martin Clifford, gazed to each other's eyes. Only days ago the two students had discovered that the crush which each had felt for the other since joining the school was in fact mutual. Since then, neither had thought of anything else but snatching opportunities to be alone together.

“We have just over an hour until physics” whispered Dorbney “I wish it could be longer”

The words had hardly left his mouth when he was silenced by the force of Martin Clifford's hungry lips pressing against his. Within seconds the two were entwined tightly in each other's arms, oblivious to all else, including the handsome, but very straight, swimmer, showering in the next room.

The two young lovers were not the only sentient beings to enter the room. When Jordan Draper had opened the skylight window, he had inadvertently granted access to two large male hornets. The two brightly striped insects hovered above the window sill as if they still expected the transparent glass, which had previously obstructed them, to still be there. Then, as their acute sense of smell detected the spilt soda, they flew into the room buzzing noisily as they did so. Quickly zoning in on the source of the sweet odour, the yellow jacketed creatures landed on the bench and began sucking up the soda which Jordan Draper had spit minutes earlier.

The first two hornets were soon joined by a third, which had also flown in through the window which Jordan had conveniently opened.

The two humans meanwhile were too occupied with the excitement of their intimate embrace to notice the buzzing hornets, as their groping hands explored each other's young bodies and their anxious manhoods began to swell in their pants.

Within moments, their pants, followed by the rest of their clothing was on the floor at their now naked feet.

Unfortunately for Dorbney and Clifford, it was not just stinging insects which had gone unnoticed, they were also too engrossed in their newly discovered passion to sense the freshly showered Jordan Draper re-entering the room.

Jordan stopped still in amazement, initially unable to comprehend what he was seeing. In that far less liberated age, where the word “gay” had only recently begun its transition to its current usage, and homosexuality was still illegal in some states, including this one, Jordan had all the prejudices of his era. This, together with all the instincts of a born bully, meant he was one of the least sympathetic of people to walk in on two males involved in an illicit sexual encounter.

“You pair of queer FAGGOTS!” sneered Jordan. As the two boys sprung apart as if an electric shock had run through then, and spun round in horror at the realisation they had been discovered.

Jordan dropped his towel, and strode stark naked across the room before standing menacingly in front of the two younger boys. “Sick perverts!” he snarled “You should be locked up!” his handsome lips curled into an incongruously ugly expression “Just wait until I tell the whole school what you were doing!!”

“P.. please Draper … please don't!” stammered Rubin Dorbney, the potential consequences of disclosure, which at the time were significant, dawning on him in cold terror.

“Please don't tell!” echoed Martin, the hopelessness of the appeal clear to him as the words left his lips. Both the boys knew Jordan Draper well, having both been the victims of his brutality in the past, and knew he would take great pleasure both in exposing them, and taking a leading role in their torment.

Jordan lunged forward, grabbing Rubin by the throat, and pushing him against the wall. “Try and stop me!” He yelled.

Although he did not shine in academic pursuits, Jordan had a natural slyness, and it quickly occurred to him that he could use this discovery to his advantage. “What is it worth for to you for me to stay quiet?” he asked, his voice dripping with malevolence. “If you queers don't want me to tell the whole school what you were ….doing..” he grimaced in exaggerated disgust “then you are going to have to pay for my silence”

Jordan's unhappy victims could tell how serious he was, and knew they would have to do as he asked, or he would make good as his threat. “I have $40 in my dorm room” stammered Martin, “I will give you that!”

“Forty bucks?!!” sneered Jordan “You had better get more than that!”

“I get my allowance next week!” whispered Rubin, his voice quaking with misery “It's $400 to last the rest of the term … you can half of that!”

“Half?!” scoffed Jordan “You had better give me the lot, or everyone will find out that you and your butt boy there are a pair of stinking fags!”

The two boys looked at each other, both knew they would have to agree to their handsome oppressor's demands, the attitudes and, legal system within the state at the time, meant that failure to submit would shame their families and could even ruin their lives.

“Okay Draper!” muttered Rubin “You can have it all”

Jordan turned to Martin and raised his fist in front of his face “What about you?” he growled “When is your allowance due from Mommy and Daddy?”

“I have spent most of it!” replied Martin, the $40 is all I have left.

“Well write to Mommy and Daddy and ask you more, okay?” glowered Jordan.

“....okay...!” whispered Martin in defeat.

A satisfied grin spread across Jordan Draper's handsome but cruel face. “Okay, I will stay quiet … for now … but you had better pay me the cash, or you both know what will happen!” He turned and walked towards the bench.

As the two lads watched the handsome and naked jock walk away from them, his perfect bare bottom, fully exposed. The sight of Jordan's naked behind at any other time would have thrilled them, but now they had other things on their mind Both knew that Jordan's silence would last only until he was paid. In their despair they both looked down and simultaneously noticed the black and yellow striped hornets, still feeding on the spilt soda. In stunned, wide eyed, fascination they watched while, as if in slow motion, Jordan turned, looked back at them, a smirk of arrogant triumph on his face, and began to lower his bare bottom towards the bench and towards the three feeding and sting loaded insects still on it.

At first Rubin did not understand the implications of what he was seeing. However, Marin immediately realised what might be about to happen and a thrill of excitement and anticipation pulsed through his young body.

Jordan had a bottom that damp and rousing wet dreams were made of, like two magnificent globes, well formed through regular exercise yet still tender and sensitive, white as snow and framed between the golden tan lines of his back and thighs, they were a delight to behold, and together with his handsome face, one of his most strikingly attractive features.

The hornets however saw no beauty in Jordan's descending backside, only a large and looming threat which was about to crush them. Their only instinct was to attack. With loud, angry, buzzes they flew at the approaching cheeks, and the instant before their sudden demise, squashed between the hard wooden bench and the pearly whiteness of Jordan's rump, they sunk their stingers into the tender flesh in the lower part of each cheek, expelling a sudden shot of toxic, agony inducing venom, into the unfortunate jock.

The third hornet, even more aggressive and adventurous than it's compatriots darted between the spreading cheeks to deliver it's agonizing payload into the rosebud-like pucker of the young straight boy's most tender and unexplored orifice.

As if shocked by a high voltage power line, Jordan let out a high pitched, and almost inhuman, scream of anguish as he jumped to his feet clutching his doubly stung bottom. Prof Graves had not been wrong when he said that the hornets could give a “nasty sting” and Jordan had never experienced a level of pain which approached that which was surging through his bare bubble like bottom, like three searing hot needles.

The unfortunate young athlete had been simultaneously stung on both cheeks of his flawless white bottom by insects renowned for the potency of their sting, which could cause extreme levels of discomfort sometimes lasting for days. To make matters worse, and potentially more embarrassing, the third sting had been planted in that most sensitive, tender and forbidden location which no living creature had ever explored before.

Martin and Rubin watched on wide eyed amazement as their strikingly handsome tormentor, still as naked as a baby, jumped from foot too foot, rubbing his bare behind, yelling and howling in pain as his well proportioned cock bounced up and down.

Ever the soft hearted one, Rubin almost felt a degree of sympathy for Jordan, before he reminded himself that the very guy he was feeling sorry for had, moments earlier, been intent on destroying his and his new young lover's lives.

Martin's reaction was somewhat more complicated, he was aware of a tingling sense of delight at what he was watching, which was not entirely due to a perception of revenge for Jordan's threats and extortion. When he would later analyse the pleasure he felt he would realise that it was the enjoyment of watching a good looking stud getting his comeuppance in such a painful and potentially humiliating way. This was a realisation which would come to change his life.

“You sat on a wasp Draper!” said Martin, struggling only half successfully to hide the note of sarcasm from his voice “Did it sting you on the as …er the bottom?”

Jordan glanced back at the bench and saw the dead hornets “They're God damn hornets! and there were two of the fuckers!” he yelled, “and they both fucking stung me!!” he continued to rub is well stung behind, whilst jumping upside down, his eyes shut tight in pain. Despite the pain his remaining pride prevented him from admitting to the third sting, and where it had been delivered.

“That must really hurt...” started Martin before the hilarity of the situation got the better of him and a loud burst of mocking laughter echoed round the room.

Jordan swung round, a look of beast like fury on his face. “ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!!” he shouted.

“No ..no Draper!!” stuttered Rubin realising the extreme danger Martin was now in “it was a cough … he coughed!! … honest!!”

“HE LAUGHED …. don't shit me Jew Boy! Jordan looked at Martin his eyes smouldering with anger “YOU LAUGHED AT ME DIDN'T YOU, YOU LITTLE WORM?!” The humiliation of what had just happened began to dawn on Jordan, that stung him almost as painfully as the hornet, and typically of a bully, it also made him very angry.

It took his lithe athletic body no more than a second to spring across the room and to grab young Martin Clifford tightly by the throat. “YOU LAUGHED AT ME!!! … YOU THINK IT WAS FUNNY THAT I GOT STUNG ON THE BUTT, DO YOU?!” he snarled “I'LL TEACH YOU AND YOUR FAGGY BOYFRIEMD NOT TO LAUGH AT ME!!”

“No Draper, please, he didn't laugh!” lied Rubin coming to the aid of his lover “he coughed!!”

“DON'T LIE FAG!!” yelled Jordan, aiming a blow at Rubin. The punch collided heavily with the lower side of Rubin's face, splitting his lip and knocking him to the floor.

Jordan turned his attention back to Martin “I'll teach you not to laugh at me you …...!!” he hissed.

Martin looked defiantly back at the handsome, naked and very angry Jock and grinned “Whatever you do to me Draper, it won't change the fact that you got your bare ass stung by a hornet, and two 'fags' saw it happen, you are angry because you are embarrassed!! …. and I laughed because it was funny! …. VERY FUNNY!”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” Screamed Jordan, the truth of Martin's statement spurring him to even more fury “YOU ARE DEAD YOU FUCKING QUEER!! Jordan's punch bloodied Martin's nose and knocked his head back against the wall, yet the smaller student retained his air of defiance, despite his attacker's greater strength and athleticism.

Jordan was unaccustomed to such defiance on the part of his victims, and, as such, it served to infuriate him even more. He flung himself onto the smaller boy, and within moments they were wrestling on the floor.

It did not take Jordan long to overpower Martin, and he soon had him pinned to the floor “You are DEAD queer!” he literally spat with fury as he raised his clenched fist, preparing to inflict a further blow to Martin's face.

“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING DRAPER??!!”

An outraged voice rang round the locker room. Jordan instantly released Martin, jumped to his feet and spun round to see the imposing and muscular figure of Mr.Amundsen, the College's head coach.

Jordan stared at the older man, one of the few authority figures he had good reason to be afraid of, and felt suddenly very aware of his nakedness. “I..I …. they .. they … uh ...I..!” he stammered.

“You what? ...they what?” stormed Mr. Amundsen, as he hastened across the room and assisted Rubin Daubny to his feet? “You are bleeding boy!” Cried the coach “Did Draper do this to you?” 

 

Before Rubin could answer, Martin spoke for him “Yes, Sir, he did, Draper punched him, and he did this to me!” he pointed at his own bloody nose.

Mr. Amundsen turned to the naked Jock, who had quickly released his grip of Martin. “Draper, I have told you before what would happen if I caught you bullying other students!!” barked the coach 

Jordan's jaw dropped wide open in stunned horror, the trobbing stings in his bottom suddenly hurt even more as the coach's earlier threat “I shall put you over my knee and spank your behind until you can't sit down for a week Draper!” echoed through his mind.

At the time he had ignore the words as an empty threat from an odd foreigner, but the coach’s unnerving expression showed he was very serious. “B..but Sir, they laughed at me ...Sir!” cried the now quite nervous young swimmer.

“They what?” demanded the incredulous Mr. Amundsen “You punched them for laughing?”

“...they are dirty fags Sir …. sick fucking queers!” blurted Jordan, who for a moment genuinely believed this explosive information would defend his behaviour.

Within an instant the strong Scandinavian coach had grabbed hold of Jordan's ear gripping it tightly and painfully between his thumb and forefinger. “HOW DARE YOU USE SUCH FILTHY LANGUAGE TO ME!! he yelled, pulling Jodan's head towards him so that it was inches from his face. “YOU ARE BADLY IN NEED OF THE LESSON YOU HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR!!”

Jordon's eyes were wide with horror. “No Coach...PLEASE … not ..'gulp' THAT!”

“Yes.. 'THAT'” snapped Coach Amundsen “The only way to deal with foul mouthed bullies like you is to apply a good, hard, bare bottom spanking to him … and repeat it frequently!”

“B...but.. It's not legal!!” stammered Jordan

“Where do you think you are Jordan?” replied the coach, this isn't Massachusetts, in this state, we believe in a good, old fashioned education!”

With that he marched across to room pulling the naked and protesting jock after him.

Martin Clifford stood frozen to the spot, adrenaline pumping in his head as the thrill of anticipation swelled within him. He couldn't quite believe what he was about to observe, he was going to watch handsome Jordan Draper get spanked and had never before felt so excited in all his life.

Coach Amundsen brusquely pushed Jordan's sports bag aside, and sat down on the bench before, with one firm and well-practised motion, pulling the naked young athlete face down over his knee.

The two observers, Rubin and Martin, both gasped in amazement at what they were watching. Their handsome tormentor of moments before, was now held firmly across the Coach's lap, his bare, perfectly formed and still white bottom on full display, and, seemingly about to be spanked in front of them.

Jordan was so stunned that, for a brief moment, he almost forgot about the throbbing pain from the hornet stings in his bottom. This could not be happening to him, the acknowledged top jock on campus, was he really about to be spanked, bare assed in front of two homosexuals?. He was suddenly very conscious of his nakedne

ss and the vulnerability of his position.

“You can't do this to me coach!” he stammered, struggling to retain his usual nonchalant manner “not in front of those two fa.... ”

“SMACK!” Coach Amundson's large and leather like palm landed with stinging force across the centre of Jordan's tender, hornet stung bottom, causing the young athlete to cry out in pain. “I told you not to use bad language Draper!” snapped the Coach “How dare you defy me!”

With that, he began spanking Jordan's bare bottom with all the awesome force that such a fit and powerful sportsman could muster.

If Jordan's humiliation had caused him to briefly forget the hornet stings in his targeted tail, they were immediately brought back into sharp focus, as every second or third stinging slap from the coaches leather like palm landed right on one or other of them, sending spear like jolts of piercing agony shooting into his punished bottom.

“AAAGHHH!!...NO! ...SIR! … PLEASE!..I'VE BEEN STUNG!!... I'VE BEEN STUNG ON THE BUTT!!”

The coach stopped for a moment “What are you talking about boy?!”

“The hornets, Coach” interjected Rubin pointing at the crushed and dead insects “They stung Draper”

“Stung him on the bottom!” murmured Martin, trying hard not to grin. “He sat on them Coach, and they stung his ….... bare bottom! ….. that must have hurt I guess!”

“The mother fuckers stung my ass Coach!” Confirmed Jordan and then immediately yelled in pain as Coach Amundsen delivered a hard slap to his backside.

“I told you not to swear boy!” snapped the Coach.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow as he studied young Draper's upturned behind. Now he knew they were there, the hornet stings were immediately visible as small, slightly raised, and shiny pink mounds surrounded by a reddening circle. One sting was at the very bottom of the right buttock cheek just above the top off Drapers smooth and golden tanned thigh. The second was on the left cheek, nestling almost on the edge of the sloping divide between the hairless, and quite magnificent globes.

The third, more intimate sting remained hidden from view in the tight crevasse between the cheeks.

Having, himself, been stung by a wasp in the past the Coach was sure the angry looking lumps must be very sore, and likely to remain so for some time. A sudden pang of sympathy tempted him to excuse the young jock his well-earned punishment, and he might have done so, had the arrogant young swimmer not immediately ruined his own chances of escape.

“But it fucking hurts coach!” yelled Jordan, the expletive so familiar to his vocabulary that it blurted out before he realised it had done so.

“Well! It is going to hurt a whole lot more!” growled a now furious Coach Amundsen, any vestige of compassion extinguished by one word evidencing the handsome young athlete's wilful disobedience. “As I promised, you will not feel inclined to sit down any time soon!”

It was then that Jordan Draper's spanking became serious, fuelled by anger at the young man's impertinent disobedience, Coach Amundsen did not hold back and was soon demonstrating the skills of the formidable disciplinarian he was. An all-round sportsman, the coach had been a decathlon champion in his youth and his body was still honed and supple from rigorous daily exercise. His hands were hard and calloused from the rock climbing which occupied much of his vacations, and his arms, the legacy of years of squash, tennis, rowing and multiple press ups were powerful and muscular.

Irrespective of the fiery hornet stings. Jordan could hardly have encountered worse bad luck, after being stung, than to be spanked by an angry Thor Amundsen.

Adding incomparably to the raging torment of his bare behind, was the smarting sting of knowing that his bare bottomed humiliation was being observed by two little …....!! He cringed inwardly, knowing with absolute certainty that both boys would spread word of what they had witnessed far and wide throughout the college.

As the handsomest and most popular jock in the College, the ignominy of being publicly spanked was unbearable, yet he had no option but to endure the shame together with the vigorous battering his bottom was receiving from the coach's mighty and relentless palm. This was turning out to be the worst thing which had ever happened to Jordan Draper. ….. so far!

As Jordan was painfully aware, two fascinated onlookers were observing the somewhat surreal events unfolding before them. Rubin Dorbney could only stare in wide eyed and stunned amazement, still unable to fully believe what he was seeing. As for Martin Clifford however, his reaction was significantly more intricate.

Pulse after pulse of thrilled anticipation surged through his body, and there was an increasingly pleasurable stirring in his groin. He had been aware for some while that he gained voyeuristic pleasure from visual stimulus, and had struggled to avert his eyes while changing before and after sports, but he had only discovered how explosively that pleasure increased when the subject he was watching was as handsome as Jordan Draper and experiencing simultaneous discomfort and humiliation.

Martin had been aware of Jordan Draper since he first arrived at Capsaicin College. A strikingly handsome youth with a triple “A+” body, Jordan had featured in quite a few furtive fantasies, but these were trivial compared to the reality he was watching. On many occasions he had observed the enticing shape of Jordan's bottom, either covered in college uniform gray slacks, or encased in the tight skimpy Speedos worn by the swimming team, many times he had imagined how it would look naked. It had been a delightful revelation earlier, even when Draper had been bullying and blackmailing him, to see that the reality was even better than he had dreamed, two small firm globes, strikingly white in contrast to the swimmers otherwise tanned and golden body, it combined the muscularity of the young athlete but with the tender looking vulnerability of Jordan's perfect, blemish free and hairless, skin.

“Blemish free”! Would, perhaps, no longer be an accurate description of Jordan's incredible rump, which, although still perfectly shaped, had now developed a bright pink hue, which was turning increasingly redder by the second. This, to Martin's fast developing eye made it all the more enchanting. He could only begin to guess how sore Jordan's lovely bottom must be, he had seen the hornets and heard Jordan's anguished reaction to their stingers, he could now see how hard Coach Amundsen was spanking it, so it was clearly very, very sore.

This certainty was all the more exciting for Martin as was, for reasons he could not yet fully understand, knowing just how embarrassing and humiliating this experience would be for a proud, conceited and arrogant guy as Jordan Draper. Martin grinned to himself “The jerk's ego must be stinging almost as much as his butt” he thought “ .. well, almost!!”

Now well into his stride, Coach Amundsen, was now devoting significant effort into to punishing his 18-year-old captive's bottom which was already stinging worse than anything Jordan could recall experiencing. Even the fire ants which had stung him while camping with his scout group many years ago, until then, the worst pain he had ever experienced, did not come close to this.

Poor Jordan, he was receiving the bare bottom spanking he had long deserved and it was a more complete punishment than even his worst enemy would have wished on him. Even the automatic impulse reaction of clenching his buttocks merely added to his discomfort, on account of the inconveniently located hornet sting between them.

That aside, he could no longer individually sense the pain from the hornet stings, that pain had now merged with the escalating burning pain, which had now spread to all parts of his bottom, and to the tops of his thighs, an especially sensitive zone which the ever thorough Scandinavian disciplinarian had deliberately not ignored.

Jordan Draper had the dual misfortune of having a particularly sensitive bottom, combined with the low pain threshold which is so often a trait of bullies. These, characteristics, added to his unusually inflated sense of personal ego, served to exaggerate the trauma of his ordeal, well beyond that which another lad in his position might experience (if another lad had been quite so unlucky) 

 

Although Martin's eyes were mostly fixed on Jordan's increasingly reddening bottom, at one point the handsome swimmer briefly kicked his legs in the air drawing Martin's gaze to two objects on the floor, Jordan's rubber flip-flops and a thrilling thought shot through his mind. He stepped forward and picked up one of the rubber shoes.

“Excuse me Coach” he said politely “You could make your palm quite sore, doing that..... would this help?!” he held out his hand holding the flip-flop towards the Coach.

The Coach stopped spanking for a moment and looked thoughtfully at the object which the boy was offering him. He then took the flip-flop from Martin's hand, and smacked it against the palm of his hand, noting with approval the stinging sensation and loud “WHACK!” of pliable India Rubber against flesh.

“Excellent!” he said “Thank you Clifford … very considerate of you Boy!”

Jordan looked back over his shoulder and saw the flip-flop in Coach Amundsen's hand, he also say the looked of feigned innocence in Martin's young face. For a moment the burning hatred he now felt for Martin almost took his mind off the burning sting in his bottom. Albeit the defining word in that sentence was “almost” and the distraction was extremely brief.

Within moments the room rang to the rifle crack like whacks of the rubber flip-flop infracting sharply with the unhappy Jordan's bottom.

Although Coach Amundsen's leathery palm had been a formidable spanking weapon, the whippy rubber flip-flop was even worse, and the pain in Jordan's rump was now quite unbearable.

Suddenly he felt tears welling in his eyes, and an uncontrolled sob raising in his throat, and realised in horror that he was about to cry. Whatever else happened, he could not allow that, he could not be seen publicly bawling over a spanking, like some little kid.

Attempting to hide the oncoming tears Jordan reverted to street thug mode by swearing, cursing and, at one point threatening the coach with the police if he did not stop However, given the powerlessness of his situation and the audible tremble in his voice, the threats and cusses just sounded comical and would have caused Martin to bust out laughing, had he not controlled himself just in time.

One person who was certainly not amused was Coach Amundsen, Jordan's unwise behaviour simply served to infuriate him further, so that he increased the power of his smacks even more, and actually made sure that on good number of occasions the rubber sole of his new weapon landed squarely where the hornets had left their fiery stings.

Try as he might, the tears kept coming and the sob kept raising towards Jordan's mouth, until neither could still be held back. The tears began to flow freely down his flushed pink cheeks and the sob exploded from between his lips, loud enough, he was sure, to be heard by the two lads still watching his shame.

Soon all defiance was gone, and he began sobbing and wailing in uncontrolled misery all thought lost in the world of pain radiating from his well punished bottom, which, whilst still beautifully shaped, now glowed with a hot and rosy shade of red.

The sound of Jordan's sobs, whilst further exciting Martin Clifford, finally eased the Coach's anger to the point where he finally stopped spanking Jordan. Unaware of the young swimmers earlier threats, and attempts to extort money from the other two lads, Amundsen's more sympathetic side took over. If the boy was crying, he had seemingly have been punished enough for the crime of using forbidden profanity.

“Get up boy!” he snapped giving Jordan a shove which almost sent him tumbling to the floor.

Jordan, struggled to his feet and stood there, deeply aware of his newly shameful nakedness, his hands clasped over his groin, but unable to hide is bright red, just spanked, bottom which was, in fact, the primary object of Martin and Rubin's attention. Jordan stared at the floor, his tear stained, but still dashingly handsome face now glowing almost as brightly as his bottom.

The Coach stood up and faced Jordon, “I hope you have learnt your lesson boy!” he said sternly “However, if I hear you swearing like that ever again.... or spreading malicious rumours about these boys … I will treat your little bare bottom like a squash ball! …. do you understand me?”

“y...yes ..yes Coach” murmured the deeply wretched Jordan.

He glanced up briefly, and in doing so, caught sight, from the corner of his eye, of the broad grin of pleasure and satisfaction on Martin Clifford's face. His misery instantly turned to, barely controlled, fury. Had Coach Amundsen not been in the room, there is no doubt that face would right then be being rammed repeatedly into the concrete floor of the locker room.

It was at that moment that Jordan Draper's, ill fated, determination to get his revenge took root.

It was the middle of the night and Jordan Draper could not sleep. Although the events in the locker had happened almost 14 hours earlier, his bottom still stung so badly that he could only achieve a degree of comfort by lying in his stomach. Even then the burning sensation was hard to endure, and even the soothing cream which he had liberally, if gingerly, rubbed into it, had minimal effect.

The spanking from Coach Amundsen had been hard and thorough, leaving a long lasting impact on Jordan's tender booty, however, even when that eventually began to fade, the three hornet's dying bequests, still throbbed painfully, and, as he was to discover, would continue to do so for most of the weekend.

The day had not improved after he had finally escaped the locker room. A 90 minute English test had to be undertaken whilst sitting down on his punished bottom, resulting, perhaps predictably, in Jordan achieving an even lower score than even he would usually expect.

Like most local students at Capsaicin, Jordan still lived at home with his family, rather than in one the college dorms or Fraternity Houses. Although usually an indulgent parent, his father insisted that the family all sit down for dinner each evening, so his son had to endure a two course family dinner whilst doing what he least wanted to do that evening, sitting down.

To add the cherry, or more accurately to poison the cherry on top of a horrible day Jordan had to turn down Lucy-Mae McCormick, who had phoned to suggest a drive to the lake. Despite this strongly implied offer of sex, Jordan could not risk failure to perform, or worse still, Lucy-Mae catching sight of his obviously spanked bottom. He could tell she was offended to be rejected, and he doubted that she would repeat the offer.

Hence, his mood had only deteriorated from an, already low, point, and was by now thunderous with a rage which could only be slated by achieving revenge.

A natural coward, Jordan would not dare extract revenge on someone as hard handed as Coach Amundsen, so he focused on the two young gay men who had witnessed his shaming.

Unaware that due to Rubin's reluctant sympathy and Martin's ambivalence about his own reaction to what he had observed, neither had spoken of what had occurred in the locker room, Jordan was convinced that the two would spend the weekend telling everyone what they had seen. Soon his dislike of the lovers had developed into a passionate hatred.

He was resolved to get his own back on the two boys, it only remained to determine how. His plotting, fuelled by the continuing sting in his tail, would fully occupy him over the following weekend, but it was not until the middle of Sunday afternoon that an idea began to form.

Coach Amundsen was sitting at the desk in his office. He was alone in the empty building, as, having a busy week ahead, the dedicated teacher had come in on Sunday evening to complete some preparation.

From time to time over the weekend, his earlier punishment of Jordan Draper had crossed his mind, he wondered if he had been too hard on the lad, and punished him too severely. It was after all no longer the 1960's, and salty language was more common than when he had been Draper's age, almost twenty years before.

However, it had not just been Draper's language which had angered him, he guessed that Draper had been bullying the two younger boys, and he suspected he knew why. Coach Amundsen's Scandinavian background had made him more liberally minded towards homosexuality than most in the Southern States of America at that time, and would not tolerate unkind treatment of vulnerable students on his watch.

From Asmundsen's desk, he had an unobstructed view down the corridor to the college administrative offices at the other end. Squinting into the gloom he made out a figure moving with apparent stealth. Making this even more suspicious was the fact that the figure was wearing a hooded winter jacket, despite the warm summer evening.

The person, who appeared to be male and carrying a rucksack, crossed the corridor to the door of the college bursar's office, where he stopped and took something from the pocket of his jacket, which he proceeded to force into the lock. After manipulating this for a few moments, the door opened and the figure entered the room. 

 

It was clear that, whoever this was, was up to no good. Assuming he had spotted a burglar committing a crime, Amundsen leapt silently from his chair. And crept up the corridor towards the door through which the intruder had just entered.

Peering through the crack in the door, Amondsen could see the intruder, who, even in the half light of the mid-Summer dusk, was instantly recognisable. As the Coach watched the youth, who was standing by the Bursar's desk, forced open a drawer and took out an object. He then moved quietly to a glass fronted cabinet, from which he took another object and then turned back towards the door.

Having identified the prowler, the Coach was now interested to find out what he would do next, so, instead of confronting the person, he slipped into the deputy principle's office and hid himself behind the door. He watched as the young man left the bursar's office and turn back down the hall. Then, once he was confident he could do so without being seen, the Coach stepped quietly into the corridor and followed the still furtive figure.

-/-

Twenty minutes later, Coach Amundsen returned to his office, a thoughtful expression on his face. He approached his desk picked up the telephone, dialled a number and waited for it to be answered.

“Dr Shultz? It's Thor Amundsen .. the Head Coach here.” he said “Good evening. ... I am sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I wonder if you would do me a favour.” he paused allowing the Doctor to agree “You have one of the swimming team, ... Jordan Draper due to have his quarterly medical tomorrow morning …. yes that's him …. I think he would benefit from a nice dose of vitamins … yes that's right …. your special preparation. I think a double dose would appropriate this time, one shot in each cheek! … thanks … I knew I could depend on you.” he was about to put down the phone before he added “Oh and Doc ….. please use your biggest needles, and make sure he feels them, both!”

Thor Amundsen then sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, as a grin began to slowly spread across his face. From what he had just observed, he now knew that he had not been too hard on Jordan Draper …. in fact he had been far too lenient. However, that was about to change.

Jordan Draper was about to get a lot more of what he really deserved. The Shaman's revenge had only just begun ….....

________________

TO BE CONTINUED ….......