The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt Part three (continued)

 
The Singeing of Chrispin Cherrybutt

Part three (2 of 2 ) – Our naughty Knight gets the bare bottom spanking he deserves

Crispin attempted to struggle free from the large Monk's grip , but soon realised that beneath his adversary's all covering brown robe was a body of considerable strength and steel like muscles, which even his fit young body could not resist.

To make matters worse, a second monk, who also proved to be a powerfully built individual arrived and assisted the first on restraining the helpless but struggling Crispin.

Together they dragged the unhappy and protesting young knight over to a bench, sat down and pulled their handsome captive over their knees.

While the newly arrived monk, held Crispin's legs, the senior monk pulled up the youth's black gown until the whole of his lower body, from his firm, slim waist down was exposed. The monk looked down at the bottom he had so recently, and lovingly anointed with healing oils and chuckled “Well well my young valiant” he said “That pretty rump of yours will soon burn worse that it did when you first arrived!”

“No please good friar!” wailed Crispin “Please have mercy on me!”

“There shall be no mercy or forgiveness for a sinner here!” snapped the monk “you will be chastised as you deserve to be!” he paused “and as penance for your pride and arrogance your punishment will be appropriately enhanced ….. Brother Samuel, bring forth the fire root!”

A third monk appeared carrying a silver platter, upon with there was a strange looking peeled vegetable root, and gingerly lifted a carrot shaped segment between his thumb ad forefinger as he approached the trio.

“Fire root …?” stammered Crispin nervously

“The fire root comes from the land of monsoons and smoking mountains to the south, it earned it's name because when it's juices touch your skin, it burns like the great lord's hottest furnaces!” replied the speaking monk. “as you will soon discover …!”

“Great lord? …. furnaces?” gasped Crispin “who are you ..... what is this order?”

“Insert the root Brother!” said the monk, interrupting and ignoring Crispin's question “You will be anxious to be rid of it for it must be burning your fingers!”

The third monk stepped forward, and swiftly forced the segment of peeled root he was holding between the raised cheeks of Crispin's exposed bottom, and up into his tight anus, which as an automatic protective instinct, gripped tightly round it. As soon as the plug of fire root touched his skin Crispin understood why it was so called, as a burning sensation almost as intense as the dragon's fiery breath spread from the puckering pink portal lips of his rectum, to deep with inside him. Tears brimmed in the young knights watering eyes and he he cried out in genuine pain

The monk's laugh had a clear note of cruel delight to it, at the sound of Crispin's scream “the fire root will ensure that even your most hidden and intimate parts will feel the force of your well deserved punishment!”

With that the laughing monk raised his large leathery and well calloused hand high into the air and an d brought it down with a loud SMACK! On Crispins, still sore and tender, recently scorched bottom. The first smack was followed by a second, third, fourth and more, while the second monk grasped his legs, and the third, having laid down his silver platter joined his fellows and held Crispin's head and scolders firmly in place.

Crisip had not been spanked over a knee since he he was a an infant, hence this punishment was as humiliating to the proud young knight as it was painful, and it was certainly extremely painful. 

 
His torment was made worse by the fact he could not help tensing his anal muscles in anticipation of each smack, which had the unfortunate effect of crushing the feague of fire root gripped by the tender pink bud of his anus and causing still more of the scalding Juice across the rim of that most sensitive and vulnerable of orifices.

Crispin's burning rectum was now a ring of fire nestling between the two stinging red orbs of his buttocks. 

 

The monks took turns in punishing Crispin, who they had soon stripped naked, as his cries and the repeated slapping of their hands on his red and well fired behind.

Finally the stopped but still held the struggling and weeping young knight captive in their grasp. The older monk looked into Crispin's tear stained face, “We are not finished with you yet my young valiant!” he grinned “You are now our prisoner and we will do with you as we will!”

“Please!” cried Crispin “You have punished me enough! Now set me free!!”

“Hah!” laughed the Monk “there will be no freedom for you Sir knight, you you will provide us with much entertainment and diversion in the coming days and weeks!”

The monks then dragged the miserable Crispin Cherrybutt down to the catacombs beneath the monastery. 

 

When they reached a small door in the wall, they opened it and pushed Crispin through sending him tumbling bottom first down a flight of stone stairs, his well spanked, scorched and fire root figged bottom hitting each step as he bounced down, before landing with a THUD! On the hard dungeon floor. As he landed he heard the door slamming behind him followed by the sound of metal bolts slamming into place. He was now the monks' prisoner.

As Crispin lay on the floor his hands grasping hie well spanked and fire root scorched behind, a sense of deep fear and desolated seeped through him, as he wondered what entertainments and diversions the brothers had in store for him, and what sort of devilish sect had he stumbled upon.

Then a voice spoke to him from the darkness “Who are you Sir Knight?” it spoke with an unmistakably noble tone “Are you a prisoner too? Have the Gods at last blessed me with a companion in this hellish ordeal?”

In mounting fear Crispin scoured inky blackness of the cell and could just make out a dark shame in the corner. The shape moved, and he knew he was not alone ….....

TO BE CONTINUED

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part Two)

Part two: Crispin and the Kingdom of the Ants

Crispin had managed to put as much distance as he could between himself and the lair of that terrible fire breathing dragon which had so cruelly flame toasted his handsome, but now very sore, young behind. However, there was still a long way to go.

Even by travelling day and night, there was a long arduous ride ahead for Crispin to get back to his home town. Yet he was desperate to get there as soon as possible, so that he could consult the apothecary, in the hope that the wise old man could provide some cooling and soothing cream or balm for his scorched bottom. His muscles were tiring, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to to keep his burning behind raised off the hard and sun ray heated leather saddle, and he knew he could not manage to do so for much longer.

Frantic to get home and to some relief, he angrily urged his horse to move faster with a series of slaps, kicks and furious commands, yelled directly into the poor beast's ear.

They now had to cross miles of open and parched desert, where the heat was becoming unbearable and the heated saddle was now painful to touch even without a singed bottom. Given the increasing discomfort, Crispin was anxious to cross the desert and reach higher, cooler, land as soon as possible.

“Faster, you lazy brute!” he shouted kicking hard against the horse's flank, and slapping it hard on the neck “If you don't more faster, I will feed your carcass to the King's hunting hounds when we get home!” he cried.

The young horse, had already developed a strong dislike for his cruel and abusive young owner, long before they had embarked on the latest journey, and it was becoming more and more irritated by the shouts and blows which Crispin was inflicting upon it. The grumpy steed was reluctant to move any faster in the exhausting heat, at least not whilst carrying such an uncomfortable burden.

The animal therefore concluded that the preferable solution would be to eject the hated burden at the earliest opportunity. 

Crispin was an experienced rider, but he was distracted by the burning pain in his bottom, and was not expecting the hose to suddenly kick back with its hind legs and violently buck it's back, throwing it's rider up into the air, before galloping away, and leaving the young knight plummeting, bottom first, towards the ground.

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The Sting of the Jungle - Boy's Return

 The Sting of the Jungle -Boy's Return

The airplane was into it's thirteenth hour of the flight across the Atlantic, and Boy was now unbearably bored. True to form, he had also made himself extraordinarily unpopular with the flight crew and his fellow passengers with is arrogant and rude bad behaviour and constant demands.

It had reached the point where most of the other passengers had moved to seats as far away from this handsome, practically naked but chronically unpleasant young man.

Eventually, when Boy could not bare the boredom any longer he called out to the flight attendant “How much longer is this Goddam flight?!” he demanded.

The flight attendant looked at Boy with hardly disguised dislike “We land in Kinshasa in an hour … S ..” she gritted her teeth “Sir!”

“No you stupid moron!” snapped Boy “What time to we land at the Jungle airport?”

“This flight does not land at The Jungle airport” she replied “We fly over the jungle, direct to Kinshasa”

“WHAT!!” shouted Boy “I need to get off at the Jungle airport!!”

“We can not land at the jungle” replied the attendant “this plane is too large for the jungle runway!” she frowned with exasperation, this was the most infuriating passenger she had ever encountered “It is quite clear on your ticket that this is a non-stop flight, you will need to get a connecting flight back to the jungle!”

Of course, Boy had spent all the money he had managed with him when he escaped from the city, and could not afford a second flight. With characteristic truculance he decided to try and bully the flight crew into landing at the jungle stop.”I demand to see the pilot!” he shouted “I need to get off this plane in the jungle!!”

“You can't see the pilot!” sighed the attendant “He's busy … you know … flying the plane!”

“Take me to him!” snapped boy, leaping from his seat and turning towards the cockpit.

Realising that Boy seemed serious, the flight attendant called over two male flight attendants to assist her “This …..... passenger failed to read his ticket correctly, and is demanding we drop him off in the jungle!” she said.

The two male attendants had been observing Boy's rude and obnoxious behaviour, ever since he started acting up after about an hour into the flight, and new he was going to be difficult. However, at first they began patiently trying to reason with him.

Sitting in am aisle seat in the next row to Boy Herman Kettering had watched the scene unfolding. As a gay man, despite Boy's outrageous behaviour, he could not fail to be struck by how hot physically the young blonde hunk was. This was especially obvious given Boy's limited attire of only a jockstrap and a pair or white socks.

Herman was also a keen collector of male spanking videos and a fan of the JockSpank blog, so when Boy stood up his eye was immediately drawn to the lad's perfectly formed bare white bottom, framed with the straps of his jockstrap, and he began to imagine all the different forms of discipline he would just love to inflict of that tempting object.

It was the ongoing curse of Boy's life, that so many people instinctively wanted to spank him.

Meanwhile the two flight attendants were also both becoming drawn to the prospect of an act of violence against Boy. Even for two men so well used to dealing with difficult customers it was not long before they were both totally exasperated with this semi-naked but highly self opinionated youth.

Finally, their exasperation turned to anger, when Boy actually attempted to storm the cockpit demanding to speak to the pilot. The men grabbed hold of him and began to drag him towards the back of the plane. It was only then, too late that Boy began to understand that just maybe he had again gone too far.

“Okay fella'” snarled one of the men “You want to land in the jungle? Well, we can arrange that!!” he was so angry that, whilst his colleague held onto Boy, he literally ripped one of the attendant seats from the wall, leaving the back portion of the seat still screwed to the wall. The men then tied Boy to the seat in a sitting position, with his, jockstrap framed, bare bottom sticking out of the gap at the back where it had been pulled from the wall.

As Boy struggled against the ropes attaching his wrists and thighs to the seat, the men began attachomh a parachute to the chair arms. “What the fuck ate you doing?!!!” yelled Boy.

The men did not answer, but the look of thunderous fury on their faces told him, that, whatever it was they were doing, he was not going to like it!!

One of the men proceeded to turn a handle which opened a hatch door in the side of the aircraft and all three of them were hit by a powerful gust of air.

“You can't be serious!!” stammered Boy, as he suddenly realised what was being planned, but the men were deadly serious. If Boy wanted to land in the jungle, they were only too happy to accommodate that wish, however, the plane would not be landing there with him.

With a powerful kick, delivered to the centre of Boy's bottom, they sent him, attached firmly to the chair frame, flying out of the side of the plane into the open sky outside. 

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