The Shaman's Revenge Part 17 (Part 2)

The Shaman's Revenge Part 17 (Part 2)

Jordan's brain was still in a state of stunned shock the following morning. After the ranger had driven him home and he had endured an hour long lecture from his father on his various misdemeanours, followed by a long hot shower to wash away the dirt, grime and stress from his 72 hours in the wilderness, he has fallen into an exhausted sleep. However, it had been a fitful sleep full of scary nightmares of angry insects, huge carrots and doctors, with syringes the size of AK47 rifles, chasing him trough a forest variously booby-trapped with nettle patches and electric fences, all of which contrived to sting and zap his bottom.

And all the time as he ran through the dark forest he could hear the sound of the Ranger's laughter echoing through the trees.

In his dream Jordan tripped and fell backwards into a thorn bush, landing heavily on his backside amongst the prickly thorns. As he struggled to free himself from the thorns, the ranger's voice began echoing in his head “Time for your shots Sport” it said “It's time for your shots!”

Then a large brawny hand was on his shoulder shaking him firmly as the voice above boomed “Wake up Sport, you're making weird noises, were you dreaming?”

Jordan opened his eyes, and found he was in fact not in a thorn bush, but in his bed, and Ranger Tartarus was leaning over him with a huge grin on his face. In place of the uniform he had been wearing the previous day, the ranger was now dressed as if for a work out, in a muscle vest, which exposed his powerful arms and shoulders, and a small tight pair of shorts. 

 

“W..What are you doing in my room?” shouted Jordan angrily, sitting up in bed “....What are you doing in my house?”

“I'm moving in Sport!” grinned the Ranger “Your Dad had to leave early this morning, he has had to go to Seattle for a couple of weeks on business, at short notice. So he's asked me to move in and supervise you while he's away!” his grin broadened “I am in the spare room, right next door to you!!”

“I don't need supervision!!” cried Jordan angrily

The ranger raised one eyebrow “With your misbehaviour this week, you have proved you need full time supervision Sport!” he said, “an' I'm going to see you get it! I am owed a lot of vacation time, and I'm going to use it to look after you, it will be lots of fun, just think of me as your new Babysitter!!”

The suggestion that, he, a 19 year old jock, needed a babysitter outraged Jordan almost more than anything else, but before he could say anything, Tartarus pointed to the door “first up, its time for your morning shower, you know what they say 'a clean body equals a clean mind!”

“I showered last night!” grumbled Jordan, irritated at being ordered around like a little kid.

“Well you need another one!” commanded the Ranger “'specially after those sweaty nightmares you were having!”

Jordan frowned wondering how the ranger knew he had nightmares “Well pass me my bathrobe then!” he muttered, pointing to the robe hanging on the back of the door.

“You don't need no robe Sport!” laughed Tartarus “Remember what the Doc said about keeping that 'lil tail 'o yours exposed!” he grinned broadly “'sides” he said “I seen it all before!!”

Jordan had no option, he jumped out of bed, keeping his hands gripped tightly over he genitals and hurried across the room to get to the shower. 

As he walked across the landing he was keenly aware that the ranger's amused eyes were fixed on him.

In particular, he knew the ranger was looking at his bare butt.

He resolved that he would phone his Dad and demand a second opinion, He was sure no other Doctor would insist he stay bare assed and get yet another course of injections every day. He also needed to convince his dad that the last thing he needed was to be supervised by the god damn ranger.

He turned the lock on the door and spent a long time under the shower grateful at least for some privacy. He hoped to Ranger would have lost interest and gone away, but irritatingly the older man was still there, standing next to his bed, grinning, when he returned to his room.

Jordan pursed his lips into a moody pout, before they fell wide open in shock and horror as he spotted the metal tray on the bedside table on which lay two large medical syringes filled with a purple liquid. Next to them was a small tube of ointment.

Tartarus noticed Jordan's shocked reaction and followed his gaze over to the table “Yup! Sorry Sport, its time for your butt treatment!” he sat down on the bed and patted his thigh

“Fuck you!” snorted Jordan derisively clenching his fists in anger “Dream on Buddy!”

Before Jordan could fully grasp what was happening Tartarus had darted across the room grabbed the young swimmers ear tightly between his thumb and forefinger and dragged across the room to the bed, where he sat down and forced the teenager face down across his lap.

“You'll do as I say while I'm in charge boy!” ordered the Ranger in a tone which warned Jordan not to object. He then took hold of the hem of the towel, which Jordan had wrapped round himself after stepping out of the shower “an' what's this for?” he snapped “You were told to keep your little butt exposed to the fresh air, full time! …. for medical reasons.

With that he grabbed hold of the towel and pulled it up round Jordan's middle fully baring the handsome young athlete's pert and just showered bottom. “Well then!” he said “It's time for your medication!!”

He leaned across Jordan and picked up a small tube of ointment, unscrewed the cap and squeezed a generous quantity of the potion into his forefinger “Now where did the Doc say I had to put this?” he asked, raising an amused eyebrow?”

“Don't remember!” grunted Jordan dishonestly

“Oh yes, now I remember!!” laughed the Ranger, using the fingers and thumb of his free hand to push Jordan's butt cheeks apart, revealing the tiny tight anus nestling between. “That's a darn pretty 'lil butt button!” he chuckled “its very pink though, I guess it's still mighty sore?”

Jordan remained silent, glowering ahead of him and not wishing to give Tartarus the satisfaction of a reply.

The ranger deftly applied the ointment in a circular motion, ensuring that all parts of the area were coated, and then proceeded firmly rub it in, causing Jordan to gasp involuntarily at the strange sensation.

Increasing the pressure slightly, the ranger moved his finger to the puckering bud like centre of Jordan's tender butt hole, and then suddenly pressed down, causing the large finger to pop inside. He then started to wiggle his flexible digit around the inner walls of Jordan's anal passage.

“Stop … stop! don't do that!! cried Jordan horrified at what was happening, and that a part of Ranger Tartarus, a man, and one he had come to detest, was actually inside his body!

It was then that the ointment began to take effect and the Doctor's prediction that this medication would “sting a little bit” began to come true. In fact the ointment didn't so much sting as it caused a fierce burning sensation across the area where the ranger had applied it “EEEYYOOWWW!!” he screamed “That burns … it's burning me!!” he struggled to get off the ranger's lap “I need to wash it off!”

However, Tartarus's strong arms held him firmly in place “You mustn't wash it Sport … it's doing you good!”

“It's not doing me good!” protested Jordan “It's burning! … it hurts”

“Most things which do you good hurt Sport!” Grinned Tartarus “You'll learn that!! ….. perhaps this will take your mind off it!” he leaned over and picked up one of the two serum filled syringes “Now lift that cute 'lil tush 'o your's up Sport!”

“NO! … not that!!” cried Jordan now frantically struggling to free himself from the rib crushing grip holding him in place! While the took aim with the syringe.

“Hold still or I'll really hurt you!” growled the ranger, before, with the speed of an egret striking at a passing minnow, he brought the syringe down, jabbing the needle hard into Jordan's left buttocks and then pressing down the plunger, sending a stream of the Doctor's special formula into the pink and ivory globe of Jordan's butt cheek.

“YYYEEEEEEEOOOWWWCH!” screamed the unlucky young jock

“I warned you fella'!” snapped the Ranger “Now behave yourself while I do the other cheek!” he grabbed Jordan's arm, and held it firmly behind his back.

Unable to escape, Jordan held his body rigid, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes tightly, preparing for the inevitable, and hoping the second injection would not hurt as much as the first!

Caleb picked up the second syringe, held it up and gave a quick squirt to remove all air. He looked down at Jordan's tense young body lying across his lap and a slow crooked grin rolled across his face, and for a fleeting instant his eyes glowed with the angry redness of molten brimstone.

“YAAAAAAAAOOOOOAAAAAAOWWWW!!” screamed Jordan, as the second needle jabbed deep into his right butt cheek, if anything this injection hurting more than the first.

It was then that Jordan lost control of the temper he had been struggling to hold in check, and let loose a stream of expletives, insults, accusations and threats he was in no position to carry through. All aimed at his new babysitter, and all a huge mistake.

Jordan struggled free of the Ranger's grasp and attempted to jump to his feet, but, in his anger he lost his balance and, with more of the series of bad luck which had recently plagued him, tumbled off Tartarus's knee, landing heavily on his tender, just jabbed bottom on the upturned spiky bristles of a hairbrush which he had carelessly dropped on on the floor the night before.

Characteristically he had not bothered to pick the brush up, so he could only blame his own carelessness and untidy habits for inflicting further pain to his increasingly sore bottom.

Jordan sprung to his feet, and began effectively dancing on the spot as he rubbed his pained backside, moaning and whining as he did so.

Meanwhile, the ranger leaned over and picked up the discarded hairbrush, which he proceeded to tap ominously on the palm of his hand. “Mmmmh!” He murmured “I will keep this, it could come in very useful!!”

“F### you!” snapped Jordan still rubbing his sore bottom.

The ranger raised an irritated eyebrow, and slowly stood up, holding the hairbrush in front of him, rather in the manner that an assassin might hold a dagger. “You are going to have to learn to control that tongue of yours Sport!” he said, speaking slowly, as if controlling his temper.

Jordan folded his arms defiantly, struggling to ignore the threatening hairbrush.

“In fact!” continued the Ranger “You could do with a time out young man”

Before Jordan could react, or fully take in what was happening, the Ranger had grabbed hold of him, lifting him bodily off his feet and throwing the young 152 pound adult athlete over his shoulder as easily as if he was a small child.

With the agility of a bounding tiger, unhindered by the weight of the young athlete he was carrying, the ranger ran down two flights of stairs to the basement beneath the house.

He then dropped Jordan, bottom first, on top of the hot water boiler “Now sit there!” he ordered, before grabbing a length of rope, which had been conveniently lying on Jordan's dad's workbench, and tying Jordan's wrists to a pillar, and then tying his ankles together .

“What are you doing?!” yelled Jordan “Untie me! Let me free”

“I will untie you later!” replied the ranger “meanwhile you can sit there quietly and think about your behaviour!”

Jordan had no intention of staying quiet, and continued to loudly protest, until the ranger picked up a roll of duct tape and tore off a strip, which he then placed over Jordan's mouth, instantly gagging him, and rendering his protests mute.

“That's good!” he smiled “Now you are quiet! ...you can stay that way!”

“MMMNNNNNNNUH!” spluttered Jordan from behind the duct tape.

“Now I have things to do!” said the Ranger “I will come back and free you in an hour or so!”

He turned to leave the basement, as he did so casually adjusting the controls on the to the boiler to maximum temperature. He then turned back briefly, gave Jordan a mock salute and left the room.

The Ranger had been so casual and relaxed when adjusting the boiler controls, and Jordan had been so preoccupied by the predicament he was in that he did not even register what had been done.

However, we very quickly began to realise as the metal tank upon which he was sitting began to get warmer and warmer.

Within five minutes the metal boiler had become painful to the touch, and unluckily for Jordan the part of him which was touching the heated metal was his already very tender and sensitive bottom.

Because of the way the ranger had tied Jordan, it was very difficult for him to raise his bottom away from the now almost scalding metal. By straining every muscle and standing on tip-toe, he managed to lift his behind a fraction of an inch above the surface of the boiler, where it hovered precariously in the air, keenly aware if the heat radiating from the now steaming tank.

Unfortunately his feet were resting unsteadily on top of an old metal paint tin, which wobbled beneath him weight. As a result his feet kept slipping causing him to land heavily on the hot tank, sending him jumping into the air yelping silently through his duct tape gag.

Again and again the process repeated itself, as he would struggle to raise himself away from the hot and now steaming boiler, only to fall back onto it after a few moments.

Meanwhile Dr Schultz's potion, which the ranger had injected into him a few minutes earlier increasing the sensitivity and intensifying the pain receptors in Jordan's painful and increasingly scorched nether quarters!

Upstairs in the kitchen, the grinning ranger was enjoying a snack of toasted buns and looking forward to the fun to come!

TO BE CONTINUED

This update has also been posted to The New Sore Bottomed Guys site

 

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 2)

Click here for Sting of the Jungle III (part1)
 

Boy felt very sorry for himself, he had not been able to sit down comfortably for days, after Tarzan had spanked him immediately after removing the porcupine quills from his bottom. To make matters worse all his loincloths had been confiscated because he kept losing them, therefore, he was naked at all times, which was not only embarrassing but he also felt very vulnerable, especially since he had discovered that the object he had seen Tarzan whittling was a paddle.

If anything, night time was even worse, as the sting in his bottom kept him awake, so he just lay there thinking about how awful it was to be stuck in a boring jungle with a strong armed muscle man who believed the answer to any problem was to spank it. He determined that, as soon as he could, he would escape to America and live in a city, where he could wear clothes and never get spanked again.

However, he would keep that plan a secret, he didn't wish to give Tarzan any reason to make his bottom any sorer than it already was.

Luckily Boy was young, and the young heal quickly, so within a few days his bottom returned to an unspanked and, rather delightful like pink shade. Once again as the sting in his tail faded, so did his self-seeking resolve to be good. He was just about to sneak off and find somewhere private, where he could jack off, when he heard Tarzan calling for him.

“Damn, what's that jerk want now?” he thought. 

He considered hiding, however, the memory of the last spanking had not sufficiently faded for him to risk another one just yet. Adopting a pose of nonchalance, tinged with as much insolence as he dared, he sauntered into the jungle clearing where Tarzan was waiting, his arrogant attitude somewhat undermined by the fact that he was as naked as a baby.

Boy grimaced at the sight of the two large empty containers at Tarzan's feet, as he knew they meant he would be ordered to carry out one of his least favourite chores.

“The barrel is almost empty again!” snapped the older man “I told you to keep it full, or we will have nothing to drink or wash with! You need to fill it up now”

The sulky expression on Boy's face expressed exactly how he felt about this task. It would take ten containers to fill the water barrel, that meant five trips to the river carrying heavy containers of water.

“You had better wear this” said Tarzan “holding out one of Boy's confiscated loincloths “In case the women from the village are there." he added “However, if you loose this one, you won't be able to sit down this side of the monsoon season!”

“Of course I won't loose it! sneered Boy hurriedly grasping at the first vestige of dignity he's been allowed in days “I am not stupid you know!”

Tarzan raised one eyebrow as he watched Boy hurriedly putting on the loincloth, but decided to keep his council for the moment. The older man grinned, he had a sneaking suspicion that boy's pert and perfectly formed bottom would be back over his knee, receiving another well deserved spanking, once again in the very near future!

-/-

It was a hot day and, despite being remarkably fit and athletic, by the time Boy had completed two trips to the river and back carrying heavy containers of water he was hot, sweaty, irritable and feeling in need of a break. The cool river water looked very tempting, he decided to take a quick swim before continuing his heavy task. Careful not to get the loincloth wet, he stripped naked and left the precious garment by a tree on the river bank before diving into the water for a brief skinny dip.

He did not notice that Hector, one of the chimpanzees which Tarzan had raised from a baby, had followed him to the river, and was sitting on the bank, watching him splashing about in the shallows.

The chimp harboured a strong resentment for Boy, who had bullied it cruelly for years, and as it observed the naked boy, oblivious to his beauty but keenly aware of it's animosity towards it's sometime tormentor, a plot began to form in Hector's almost human brain.

A highly intelligent creature, Hector understood a lot of human language and the line “You won't sit down ..” was a phrase it had heard often enough to understand what it meant and to appreciate the implied threat they held for it's adversary's bottom. It understood that Tarzan had used the phrase in connection with the piece of cloth he had given to Boy, and concluded that, were Boy to loose that piece of cloth, Tarzan might inflict pain on Boy's rump. If so, it would be an outcome which the vengeful ape would find very pleasing indeed.

The Chimpanzee hurried over to the loincloth and snatched it up, waving it in the air and making loud hoots and screeches to attract Boy's attention.

Hearing the noise, Buy spun round and spotted the chimp on the bank “What's that dumb ape doing?!" He thought, then he spotted the loincloth gripped in Hector's fist “Put that down you stupid fucking monkey!” he yelled, but Hector just let out a chattering laugh and scuttled off toward the woods, still carrying his trophy.

At that moment Boy suddenly realised that his bottom was very bare and very, very vulnerable

He waded hastily to the bank, knowing he had to retrieve the loincloth or he would be in for a serious spanking, he gulped, maybe Tarzan would even use that damn paddle on him!

The chimp scampered away through the long grass towards the jungle with the naked Boy in hot pursuit desperate to retrieve his loincloth and avoid a paddling.

Once in the jungle, Hector looked back and impudently waved the loincloth at Boy, as if taunting him.

“Damn you, you little brute!” snarled the angry boy running towards the monkey. Unfortunately, Boy was so intent on catching the animal he did not watch where he was going, he tripped and fell forward into the narrow crook of a tree.

Boys continuing streak of bad luck was showing no signs of leaving him. To his horror he found that when he attempted to free himself, he found he could not, he was held tight in the tight gap between the trunk and a branch, which gripped him firmly round the waist. He struggled in an effort to get loose, but this merely made his predicament worse, by pushing his front half forward whilst raising his peachy bare bottom up and presenting it naked an exposed like a sacrificial offering to a pagan god.

He heard Hector's shrill chatter transform into a mocking cackle and he determined he would, one day slaughter that ape!

He had been stuck in the vice like grasp on the tree for a few minutes when he became aware of the sound of something approaching him from behind. He stiffened in fear and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. Not all the predators in the jungle were tame, due to his position he was unable to clime a tree to avoid sharp teeth and claws, whilst he knew his lower half would appear a tempting feast for a hungry carnivore. 

In fact the approaching “thing” was two young men from the village on the edge of the jungle, returning from an unsuccessful hunting expedition.

The first youth to enter the clearing stopped in amazement at the sight which met him, a handsome white bottom and legs protruding from a fork in a large wild fig tree. His surprise did not last for long, there were only two semi naked white men this deep in the West African jungle, and from one glance at the pert young bottom and toned athletic legs he could be reasonably sure it wasn't the more bulky and muscular Tarzan.

Boy was well known to the villagers, but, unlike the popular Tarzan, Boy was not well liked. He was generally considered an arrogant and selfish brat, whom they widely suspected spied on the village girls. They all delighted in the stories of Boy's many misfortunes, which invariably resulted in Boy receiving a very sore bottom, which in their view he richly deserved.

It was no great surprise to find that Boy had got himself into yet another embarrassing predicament, and the youth's heart missed a couple of beats at the prospect of this time being the one in a position to give Boy his sore bottom.

Joined by his companion, who exploded in giggles upon realising what an opportunity for a bit of entertainment they had happened upon, the two youths approached Boy's exposed and vulnerable backside. The first youth lifted his spear and jabbed first Boy's left butt cheek then the right one with the sharp point.

Boy cried out in shock and pain, his first terrified thought being that the sharp points were the teeth of a leopard , and then he heard the very human sound of laughter and his fear turned to anger and humiliation!

The other youth joined in and both had some fun jabbing Boy's sensitive bottom with their sharp spears and laughing as their target squealed in pain and outrage, threatening them with any amount of revenge he was in no position to inflict.

The youths eventually tired of that game, but they were not finished with Boy by any means . Freeing him from the crook of the tree, they immediately trussed him up like a turkey with hanging vines and proceeded to hoist him into the air.  Whilst he hung helplessly before them they smeared his behind with fresh honey from the honeycomb they carried with them for energy.

Laughing happily at Boy's discomfort, the two youths then headed back to the village leaving Boy hanging from the vine.

At first Boy did not understand the purpose of the honey, but it soon became clear, as the sweet sticky substance attracted every stinging insect in the vicinity, which all came swarming around his behind in a frenzy of buzzing and stinging.

Boy yelled and struggled as the as the tiny but toxic creatures attacked him with vigour, covering his well jabbed and honey smeared bottom with painful stings.

Boy's struggling snapped the vines by which he was hanging from the tree, and he hurtled toward the hard jungle floor….

Where he made a painful landing.

Boy lept to his feel, clutching his tortured behind and let out a yell of anguish, a not unfamiliar sound in that corner of the jungle.

The loincloth briefly forgotten the red bottomed Boy made his way home. However, he remembered it as soon as he met up with Tarzan and saw the look on his face, and the paddle gripped in his hand. Boy knew instantly that he was about to be spanked!

Boy was not wrong, Tarzan was furious, not only has his miscreant ward clearly lost his clothing again, but he had only filled a quarter of the tank with water. To make matters worse when he had gone to the river to find what was taking Boy so long, he had been just in time to see the precious containers, which Boy had left on the bank floating off down stream towards the mighty Congo river, where they would be lost forever

The containers had come from a aircraft which had crashed a few years earlier and would not be easy to replace that deep in the jungle. Boy would have to carry water in banana leaves in future. However, that punishment would come later, right now it was time for the especially crafted paddle to be put to work. Tarzan strode forward grabbed hold of Boy, slung the lad over his shoulder and headed towards a rock, where he sat down and placed Boy firmly across his knee.

Boy was then paddled from various angles, first on his back over Tarzan's knee with his legs in the air.

Then bent over a fallen tree, his long athletic legs kicking helplessly behind him, as Hector the sadistic ape, shrieked with delight.

For the next twenty minutes the sound of whacking echoed through the jungle, as the birds and animals fell silent listening to the familiar sound of Boy's progressively more frantic cries.

Finally it was over, Tarzan marched off into the jungle clutching the still warm paddle in his hand, leaving a well punished Boy crouching on all fours, his glowing red bottom sticking up in the air.

Hector, the chimpanzee which had followed Boy when he returned to camp, and happily watched while his enemy was punished, looked on, pleased, in it's almost human way, with it's day's work. 

About to eat a banana, the sight of Boy's fiery red spanked bottom and the now exposed puckering portal between the cheeks, caused a more appropriate use for the curved cylinder shaped fruit began to form in it's mind, a use which would add a final, uncomfortable, humiliation to Boy's catalogue of mishaps. 

Hector waddled up to Boy, and with one swift movement, rammed the banana firmly into Boy's upraised anus, forcing it in until only a couple of inches remained exposed, protruding from the tight orifice.

The expression on the ape's face couldn't have said more clearly, "Now you're fucked asshole!" 

Boy gasped in mortified horror as the hard and rather large alien object invaded his most intimate parts, momentarily frozen in shock, shame and humiliation. This had certainly not been a good day.

The End

Sting of the Jungle III (Part 1)

 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)