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)
