Ol' ButtWarmer (Art by Jonathan)

Ol'ButtWarmer

Art by Jonathan colour by BuckcuB

(Thanks to QBuzz for reminding me about this picture)

The Shaman's Revenge Part 20 Chase's Shocking experience

The Shaman's Revenge Part 20

Chase's Shocking experience

The uncomfortable and humiliating experience with the soap had left Chase in a very angry mood, this combined with the fact he had been placed in a cell with three big, strong, long term convicts who's idea or recreation was spanking his butt, was stinging the young would be mugger's pride as much as his bottom, and increasing his bad temper.

To make matters worse there was still no sign of the promised prison uniform. As a result Chase was still stark naked, which, in itself was embarrassing and inevitably made him the butt of the other convicts' cruel sense of humour.

This came to a head when he was making his way back to his cell and a convict blew a loud wolf whistle and mockingly shouted “That's a cute little butt you got there Blondie, I bet your new Daddies just LUV spanking that!”

“F***ing shut up!” snarled Chase spinning round, and punching the mocking con on the jaw, knocking him to the floor.

In his anger, Chase had not noticed two prison guards standing nearby, until they immediately rushed forward and grabbed hold of him.

“That was an act of violence, which is strictly against prison rules!” one boomed

“Tell that to my damn cell mates!” snapped Chase “What they do to me is sure violent!!”

The guard ignored Chase's reply and continued “There is a punishment for cons who act violently!” He said “And that's the electric chair!”

“What the …?!” Chase was stunned and confused “cut the crap!”

“It's not crap Buddy!” replied the second guard, leaning close to Chase's face “You are getting the electric chair!”

“Yeah! Ol' Buttwarmer will teach you to behave!” grinned the fist guard maliciously

“What are you talking about?!” asked an increasing alarmed Chase

“You will see!” laughed the the first guard as the two officers began pulling Chase down the walkway between cells

Chase, couldn't believe what was happening, surely they were not planning to execute him just for hitting someone, especially as con he had hit was already sitting up and rubbing his chin. He had heard the state still permitted the use of the electric chair, but only for murder, after a trial and years of appeals, so how could this be happening?

Were the guards planning to kill him? He was starting to get seriously scared. “Guys … be reasonable .. I only tapped him...!”

“Yeah?” sneered the second guard “like you only tapped your girlfriend?” then the two men continued to drag Chase through the prison. How come they all knew about his fight with that bi**h Sandie Ann?

The guards led Chase down a flight of stairs and down a corridor to a large door, which they unlocked and pushed him in.

In the middle of the room was what appeared to be a metal chair, with a strange object protruding from the seat. This did not resemble any illustrations Chase had seen of execution style electric chairs, but he certainly did not like the look of it.

Before he knew what was happening, the two guards, acting in unison, turned and lifted him off the floor, each with one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. They then began carrying him towards the metal chair.

As they approached the chair, Chase realised that what he had thought was an object resting on the chair, was in fact moulded into the seat itself in the same metal and shaped like a large erect male penis.

He could not believe that the men actually expected him to sit on the seat … but they did. To his horror, he realised what that would mean!

Once they reached the chair, the guards began lowering him onto the huge metal dick. Chase protested loudly and attempted to struggle, but they held him firmly and continued to lower him onto the steel erection.

For a moment progress was stalled when the tip of the metal penis pressed against Chase's tight butt hole. However, the guards knew what they were doing and pressed firmly down on Chase's hips, until the tight pucker began to give way and the artificial penis began slowly forcing its way up into him.

Chase gasped and cried out at such a significant penetration, but he could not prevent himself from gradually slipping lower onto the shaft, as bit by bit more of it slid inside him, until he was actually sitting on the seat, with the metal penis up his ass.

The guards then strapped Chase's wrists to the side of the chair with leather straps, so that he was tied to the chair and unable to stand up, or lift himself off the metal penis, which was now uncomfortably embedded into his anus. even though he struggled to free himself, he has held in place.

This was the third and by far the hardest and largest thing to be forced inside him in less than 24 hours, and he did not enjoy the sensation.

However, that was not his only concern. He looked down and saw a small square box attached to the leg of the chair from which a length of wire ran across the floor to the wall. It seemed the chair was connected to the mains.

One of the guards walked over to the wall where there was a control panel, he flipped a switch and and made a slight adjustment to the dial next to it.

“OUCH!” shouted Chase, as a tingling jolt of electric current ran through the seat of the chair beneath his butt cheeks and up the metal penis stuck inside him.

“So Blondie, what do you think of the electric chair?” laughed the guard “That's the lowest setting!”

“Get me off this fucking thing!” shouted Chase

The guard grinned and turned the dial again sending a marginally stronger surge of electricity up through the chair and into Chase.

“AAAGGHHOOO!” yelled “Quit that will ya'!”

“You broke the rules Blondie, and you need to be punished! Another twist of the dial sent a third bolt of electricity surging into Chase's tender nether region 

For the next twenty minutes the guards took turns in tormenting Chase with a series of electric shocks of differing strengths, so that the unlucky convict never knew whether to expect an irritating buzz, a seriously painful electric shock sending a pulse of red hot fire into his butt cheeks and up the metal penis jammed into his anal passage, or some level in between the two. They did so knowing that the uncertain anticipation of what would come next was torture in itself.

None of the electric zaps were powerful enough to prove fatal to a healthy young male or to actually cause injury, but they could certainly cause pain and humiliation, which is what they did to Chase. The guards were really having their fun with the unfortunate young remandee.

A person did not need to be a sadist to work a Smackover Butte facility, but most guards soon became one. There was so much fun to be had.

Meanwhile in the surveillance room, where all the cameras had now been loaded with colour film, a third guard was eagerly recording the scene. He guessed that the footage of Blondie Bubble Butt in the electric chair could be profitable.

He was not wrong, the latest instalment of “Prison Butt Punishment” proved to be the highest selling item at adult video shops across the country.

The tape proved especially popular in Chase's local neighbourhood, where the footage was soon being played and rewound and played again on hundreds of televisions.

Chase didn't know it, but he was becoming a star.

To Be Continued ....

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

 

Loki and Thor, Chastised by Odin – Fantasy Art By Mark

Loki and Thor, Chastised by Odin – Fantasy Art By Mark

Naughty Loki and handsome but arrogant Thor feel Odin's Fire in this fantasy sequence by Mark, specially created for Sore Bottomed Guys

Click Here see more of Mark's work 

 

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!” 

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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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