The Shaman's Revenge Part 14 - Jordan meets the Cody Brothers

The Shaman's Revenge Part 14

Jordan meets the Cody Brothers

As Jordan got closer to the buildings he had spotted in the distance, his heart began to sink. From what he could see this was no picturesque country farmhouse with roses round the door or a white picket fence, and the chances of it being inhabited by a friendly plump farmer and his wife, who would feed him pumpkin pie and lend him their eldest son's grown out of jeans were diminishing with each step he took.

 

The buildings appeared somewhat dilapidated and in poor repair, in fact were it not for the half dozen or so scrawny looking chickens pecking at seed corn in the yard and a rather ragged carpet, hanging on a line, he might have concluded that the property was unoccupied. Whoever did live in the ranch was obviously not house proud, and Jordan's instincts told him he was unlikely to receive a friendly welcome.

He decided that instead of seeking out the homeowner and asking for help, he would merely see if there was any food or clothing he could steal before continuing on his way.

Moving as quietly as he could, he crept up to the old ranch house. He sprinted quickly up to a small sash window and peered into what appeared to be a bedroom with an unmade cot, and, he was pleased to note, a pile of discarded clothes in the corner. In the past he would have disdained the idea of wearing someone else's discarded clothes, but he was now in no position to be choosy. At least he could cover his nakedness and then maybe find his way to the kitchen and some food.

He attempted to prize open the window, but it clearly had not been opened for years, and was sealed shut. He considered breaking the glass, but decided the noise would alert whoever lived in the farm of his presence. 

 

In the hope of finding an easier window, he tiptoed round the side of the house, and, for once, his luck was in, as one of the windows had been left open, he hurried up to it and cautiously looked in to what appeared to be a very old fashioned and run down kitchen with a kitchen table, covered with 1950's style plastic with a large kerosene lamp in the middle. Against the wall was large Iron stove, reminiscent to something one might see in a frontier type movie. However, of most interest to Jordan was a tiny walk in cupboard at the side of the room, which appeared to me a larder.

At the very thought of a larder his stomach began to rumble with hunger. It was now almost 24 hours since he had last eaten, a for a boy who was accustom to three meals and a few snacks a day, this was all but starvation. Jordan loved food, to the point of over indulgence, and it was only his healthy metabolism and active lifestyle which kept his handsome body in it's sleek athletic state.

Much as he needed clothes, his stomach needed food even more, so his first priority lay in whatever was in the larder. After taking a swift look around to ensure he was still unobserved, Jordan quickly clambered through the open window into the kitchen. Whilst ensuring he made as little sound as possible, he hurried over to the larder and looked inside.

The content of the larder was rather disappointing, given the marked lack of candy, cheeseburgers or hot dogs. However, there was bread, oil and there was also a bowl containing about a dozen eggs and a small jug of milk.

They would have to do.

Of course he couldn't eat raw eggs, so he carried the bowl across to the old iron stove. He noted with relief that it was still alight, and it only took a little poking and some extra kindling to get it flaming and heating up the stone ring on the top.

He then poured some oil into a heave based frying pan, which he placed on the ring to heat up, before cracking most of the eggs and tipping the contents into the pan and stirring it together to make rudimentary scrambled eggs.

The eggs were ready in minutes, and once they were, Jordan quickly scraped them onto a plate, before carelessly discarding the pan onto the side of the stove. Then, still naked, he sat down at the table and hungrily devoured the eggs and bread, whilst drinking milk straight from the jug.

Jordan was so occupied in consuming his first meal in a day, he failed to hear the door behind him opening, or the sound of stealthy footfall creeping towards him.

The spidery sense that there was someone behind him finally hit Jordan just too late to save him, as a large, leathery, sun tanned hand landed in his shoulder and a loud voice with a distinct Country ca dance snarled in his ear “How dare you sneak in butt nekid' and steal from our larder you thievin' Varmit!?”

Jordan leaped to his feet and spun round to find a huge mountain of a man, bulging with muscles and shaggy black hair, on both his head and chest, looming over him with an unmistakably hostile and menacing expression on his face. Then a second man, equally muscular, but with a bristling light brown beard entered the room.

Floyd and Billy Bob Cody, together with their younger brother Seth, had lived in their remote ranch house for most of their lives, ever since their papa was locked away in the county prison for killing a man in a bar fight and their mother had abandoned them after taking up with a tractor salesman from North Dakota. The Cody boys had been looked after by their grandmother, Ernestine Clutterbuck, until she, sadly expiredd from an excess on sweet potato moonshine and chewing tobacco.

Living mostly alone, with only the acquaintance of a few nearby ranchers, the Cody brother had little experience of city folk, but both could spot a pretty city boy when they saw one, and Jordan was an unconscionably pretty boy. Both men felt a stirring in their groins, which they didn't fully comprehend.

“My .. my clothes were stolen .. and I...I was hungry!” stammered Jordan, keenly aware that he was in a very dangerous predicament. Unfortunately, his explanation didn't help

“So!” hissed Floyd, holding his face so close to Jordan's that the latter could feel the spit on his face “Just 'cos, someone stole from you, you thought you could then rob us blind did you boy?!” his lip curled into a cruel shape “You need a good whopping youngun' and you're gonna' get one” with that he snatched the, still smoking, pan which Jordan had used to cook the eggs, from the stove! “This'll do just fine!” 

Click on the Read More tab below to continue

 

He then took hold of Jordan by the ear and forcibly marched him over to an old wooden chair in the centre of twhat passed for he cabin's lounge.

“No please sir!” wailed Jordan “Don't hit me with … that!! I will pay for the food … my Dad will pay you, just phone him!”

“We don't have no telephone here!” growled Floyd “You are gonna' pay, and you'll pay with that pretty lil' white butt o' yours!” he sat down and roughly pulled Jordan, face down, over his knee into what, for Jordan, was becoming a depressingly familiar position..

With that, he raised the pan up above his head and then brought it down with a resounding “THUD!” on Jordan's upturned bottom. On account of having been left on the side of the old cooker, rather than directly on the hot plate, the pan was no longer hot enough to cause scaring burns, but it was still hot enough to feel as if it was! Jordan's high pitched squeal of pain and outrage echoed round the shabby wooden room, followed with a second and a third, as Floyd continued to wallop him with the hot, heavy bottomed pan.

“Yeah! Whop that city boy's butt Bro!” shouted Billy Bob “Whop him good! Make him feel it!!”

Jordan was certainly “feeling it”, the strength of Floyd Cody's blows, combined with the retained heat of the old frying pan, felt to Jordan as if his tender butt was literally being fried.

His yelps of pain merged into wails of anguish and then and then loud uncontrolled sobs, as his muscular captor continued to assail him.

Finally Floyd stopped pan paddling Jordan, he stood up, and scooped the young man up under his arm as easily as if the 18 year old athlete were a light as a feather.

“Say Bro!” cried Billy Bob “That city boy butt sure does look pretty. All red an all!” he grinned “I could just eat that, roast with sweet potatoes and a carrot up his ass!” 

 

Floyd looked down, at Jordan's glowing, just paddled, bottom and long tanned legs sticking out from beneath his massive hairy armpit “Yeah, I'd say it does look kina' pretty like that, we'll have to make sure it stays that way!”

Billy Bob reacted excitedly to the implication of his elder brother's words “Can we keep him Floyd!” he asked gleefully “Please Bro lets keep him, then you can spank him every morning and I'll do it each evening to keep his city boy tush pretty and red!”

“Well okay!” replied Floyd “Just so long as you an' Seth keep guard of him during the day, stopping him from running off, and make sure he earns his keep!”

“Oh yes, we'll guard him!” insisted Billy Bob “we will make sure he does stuff round the farm …....!” he paused, and grinned sheepishly “and then have some ….. fun with him!” he chuckled

Jordan listened in horror to the men's discussion, he certainly did not like the idea of being kept or … being had fun with!! “Please Sirs,!” he stammered “Let me go, I need to go home …. I won't say anything ….!

“Shut your mouth Varmit!” snapped Floyd delivering a resounding WHACK to Jordan's upturned bottom with the pan he still held in his powerful hand. “Come on Billy Bob, lets put him in the cellar.”

The men carried Jordan down to their cellar, repeatedly bumping his head against the wall as they did so. Floyd then tossed him onto the hard earth floor, before he and Billy Bob tied their captive up.

As the felt the cellar, Billy Bob looked back “Sleep well, pretty boy!” he said “We'll have some fun in the morning”

Needless to say, Jordan did not sleep well, the throbbing pain in his bottom, together with the horror of his situation, and fearful anticipation of the “fun” Billy Bob had in mind for him kept him wide away. Even later, when he did fall into an unhappy and fitful sleep, he was haunted by awful and frightening dreams, all focused on the new torments he was sure would soon be inflicted on his long suffering behind.

Jordan had been living though a period of extraordinarily bad luck, but even by those standards, his luck had now taken an especially nasty turn. He dreaded to think what further misadventures were in store for him!

TO BE CONTINUED