Sore Bottomed Guys

The Shaman’s Revenge Part 18 (Part 1)

Jordan was confused, why was there a crane truck parked in the front yard?, and why did the Ranger want to strap him into a very suspicious object?

“Why do you want to put that on me?” he moaned, backing away from the Ranger who was holding out a dark blue leather garment “it’s weird”

“We need to check that it works properly” came the reply “we will be having an escapology booth at the fair! Put it on and see if you can figure out how to get it off …if you can get out of it anyone can!” he laughed

“It’s a real dumb idea!” replied an increasingly dubious Jordan “I don’t want to!”

“Stop wasting time let me put this on you” snapped the Ranger “It won’t hurt you!”

Jordan, was not convinced, and felt a sense of dead, he knew the Ranger well enough not to trust him, but he also knew that any failure to obey would have painful consequences. So, very reluctantly, he stood still and allowed the ranger to strap him into the leather straight jacket.

“Great!” grinned the Ranger “It fits perfectly, … nice and snug … you won’t fall out of that!”

“F..fall?” stammered Jordan “How do you mean!”

“You’ll see!” replied Ranger Tartarus “and you won’t be needing these!” he bent down, grabbed the waist band of Jordan’s skimpy red shorts and pulled them down to his ankles, as Jordan’s hated cousin Harvey giggled with delight.

“HEY!” yelled Jordan “The Doc said I could wear the shorts!”

The Ranger ignored Jordan’s protest, and immediately attached a series of chains, attached to the crane truck to the back of the leather straight jacket, before jumping into the truck, and activating the crane mechanism.

To Jordan’s dismay, he suddenly found himself being winched upwards by the chains attached to the straps of the straightjacket, in which he was trapped. “What are you doing?” he yelled frantically, as he struggled against the unyielding, tight blue leather.

“I got this idea when we found you hanging from your speedo wedgie!” Laughed the Ranger “Now we are going to the fair!”

Jordan was now high in the air, dangling from the crane, and, apart from his socks and sneakers, naked from waist down, with his little pink bottom on full display. “Let me down!”

“You aren’t afraid of hights are you Sport?” chuckled the Ranger starting the engine, as Jordan’s still giggling cousin Harvey climbed unto the cab beside him. “You will have to get used to it if you are!”

Minutes later, as pedestrians laughed and pointed, the truck drove slowly down the road, the crain extended behind it with a bare bottom and very miserable Jordan hanging from it.

When the truck arrived at the country fairground, the ranger drove up to a spot about 30 yards from the edge of the fair and parked next to an orange board with yellow numbers on. Jordan wondered what it could be, until he spotted the sign at the top which stated, “Test Your Strength – Paddle the brat!” and saw that there was a metal arm protruding from the top of the board with a holed spanking paddle attached to it.

As the Ranger had carefully positioned the truck so that Jordan’s bare bottom was in direct line of the paddle, it didn’t take Jordon long to figure out that he was the brat who was going to get paddled, but how did this devilish contraption work?

His question was answered by Harvey, who had produced a mallet from the truck and began calling out to the curious crowd, which was already assembling, and inviting them to test their strength by hitting a lever with the mallet. The strength of the blow will send a puck shooting up the board, the explained, and activate the paddle. The number of swats being determined by what number on the board to puck reached.

Jordan’s bare behind presented a very tempting target, and a eager group of laughing young men had soon lined up to take their turn in testing their strength.

The first contestant’s attempt was poorly judged and succeeded only in a glancing blow to the lever, so the puck only rose to the number 10 on the board, which was greeted with jeers from onlookers.

 However, the well programmed mechanism immediately sprang into action, the paddle arm swung back and forth delivering the requisite ten whacks to Jordan’s tender bottom, as he yelled out in pain.

“That was a test shot!” insisted the guy with the mallet “Let me try again!”

Harvey raised no objection, and the mallet was again brought down hard delivering a resounding blow to the lever and sending the puck hurtling up the board to reach the number 30.

“YESS!! .. THIRTY!” Cheered the crowd

“No … NOT THIRTY!” cried Jordan in horror.

But the paddle was already swinging and within seconds the fairground was soon echoing to the sounds of hard paddle whacks, punctuated by howls both of pain from Jordan and laughter from the now sizable crowd.

Jordan was in for a long and painful afternoon.

 

TO BE CONTINUED