The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Four – pt 1)

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt

(Part Four – pt 1)

As his eyes began to become accustomed to the dark, Crispin finally began to be able to see who else was sharing the dungeon with him. He could make out a handsome muscular man, about eight or ten years older than himself, with a face which was vaguely familiar. At first he struggled to recall where he knew the man from.

Then he remembered “Gallant Sir Tybalt!” he gasped, “Is it really you?”

The older man, raised his head, as if surprised “It is a long time since I have heard my name spoken” he replied, “but, yes, it is I!” his voice, was strong and deep, with the cadence of noble birth, melding incongruously with the slight hesitance of one who has not shared a conversation in quite some time.

“I recall, when you left to fight the dragon!” blurted Crispin, “I was just a child then, I was with the crowd cheering you as you rode from the city, and I recall how inspired I was by your bravery!” he paused as he remembered, “When you did not return people feared the dragon had …... cooked you with his fiery breath, and eaten you!”

Tybalt sighed “Ah!” he said “I would have suffered less if it had eaten me!” he looked at Crispin with an expression of sorrowed compassion “As I fear you will soon suffer also!”

“W...what do you mean?” asked Crispin, the quiver in his vice betraying any attempt at appearing stoic and brave!”

“These man who pose as monks are in fact the Hellish creatures of an evil Lord!” replied “This is no Holy order, they long ago lost their faith and are now a dangerous cult, who worship a fearsome demon who rules over the pit of torment!” he shuddered “They demonstrate their devotion to the beast by inflicting the torments of Tartarus on their captives ….. me ….. us!”

Crispin's mouth fell open in unconcealed shock, stunned by what he was hearing, and increasingly nervous of what might lie in store for him!

“Why have you not escaped?” he asked

“Believe me, I have tried!” replied Tybalt, “But the monks keep me closely guarded!” he paused and glanced around, as if checking they were not overheard, before he continued in a hushed voice “You must keep this secret!” he whispered “I am digging a tunnel, it is hidden behind that boulder in the corner, but it is taking a long time, as the stone is so hard. Perhaps now there are two of us, we will make more progress!”

Before Crispin could respond and express his eager willingness to join Tybalt in digging his escape tunnel, the great wooden door to the dungeon was flung open by a group of monks who entered, grabbing hold of the two handsome knights and dragging them up the stairs.

Crispin attempted to struggle free, but the monk's were unexpectedly strong and had superior numbers, so they held him firm. Meanwhile Tybalt, perhaps weakened and disheartened by his years as a prisoner, seemed resigned to his fate, and put up little resistance.

The monks carried and dragged the protesting Crispin and the sad faces but silent Tybalt into a large chamber with two drape covered altar in the middle, on to which the two young men were forced to crawl, before their wrists and ankles were tightly shackled with leather and chains.

Tybalt gave Crispin a doleful look, his voice quivered with compassion and resignation “Be brave my friend!” he said “Your suffering will be great, but it will end eventually”

Crispin was not feeling at all brave, and his composure was not improved by the older man's ominous words.

Then the situation got considerably worse, as one of the younger monks stepped forward carrying a tray on which were two huge and erect penises, both seemingly carved from what the wide eyed and fearful Crispin instantly recognised as the dreaded fire root.

It was only hours since his last encounter with this fearsome root, and his anus was still painfully smarting, he prayed to whatever god was listening that the huge objects before him would not be used for a similar purpose. Sadly, it seemed that the only god listening was the monstrous demon to whom the monks paid homage, and the miserable expression in Tybalt's handsome brown eyes, told Crispin that his worst fears were about to be fulfilled.

Two of the monks took hold of the carved phalluses, the younger of the two flinching slightly as the scalding juices burnt his fingers. Then each walked to the end of an altar, whilst chanting in an archaic tongue.

Once they stood behind each man they lifted the fire root penises up before roughly inserting the first six inches of the intricately carved objects into into the rectums of the two unhappy knights, leaving a further four or so inches and the large scrotum shaped appendage sticking out. 

 

With the stoicism gained from long exposure to such outrages Tybalt merely moaned slightly, however, the raw young Crispin for whom this was agonisingly new yell, screamed and cried out obscenities as the burning juices of the fire root soaked into his his most intimate and tender areas.

Two further monks, who's presence, until that moment, had gone relatively unnoticed by the handsome knights, and who were holding large wooden paddle like objects, easily mistakable for ancient flatbread or pizza shovels, also stepped forward.

The two monks then brought down the wooden paddles, which they had been holding high like flags, until they were inches from the base of the fire root phalluses protruding from the knights behinds. Then they swung them back and then forward hitting the base of the vegetable scrotum with a loud whack, and forcing a further centime of the shaft into the tight orifice.

Tybult gasped and Crispin literally squealed with pain and shock as the huge object was squeezed further inside him.

The monks continued to whack their paddles against the replica organs as if they were knocking a peg into a hole with a mallet.

The force of the blows first split the phalluses, and then then began to crush the large scrotum bulge at the end, sending sprays of scalding fire root sap across the two knights. handsome and exposed buttocks. Soon the carved stiffies had all but vanished, the main part having been forced inside the unlucky victims, and the rest crushed in to acid like liquid. Yet, still the Monk's continued to paddle the knights with their fire root soaked paddles, escalating the impact of each blow with impact of the old dragon's fiery breath.

Unable to tolerate the pain Crispin began to shout, cursing and threatening the monks with what he would do to them when he was free.

“Take care my friend!” urged Tybalt in alarm “take care lest the friars punish you more severely” he attempted to whisper to the younger man “they will take you to the hives, and, believe me Dear friend, you never want to be taken to the hives!!

However, Crispin ignored his compatriot's warning and continued to snarl, curse and should threats at the monks. Too late he realised the danger he was placing himself in.

The oldest monk, who appeared to be the leader, approached the alters a cruel smile on his ugly and twisted lips, he took hold of a clump of Crispin's hair in his fist, lifted the young knight's head up and looked into his face.

“Well, well, you impudent young pup! He scoffed “You have not learned your lesson yet!” he grinned in a way that sent a shiver down Crispin's back “You need serious chastisement my boy” the old monk growled unkindly “and our little friends are well equipped for that!”

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TO BE CONTINUED

I hope to post more of part four on Tuesday

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