[NOTE - If you have been reading these chapters, you've figured out these are CARTOON CHARACTERS. It's like on Tom & Jerry when one gets hit with an anvil and hollers and is back to normal in 2 seconds. Don't take any of this too seriously.]
Josh was naturally nervous. When he and Mac were told they would be punished that busy Saturday night at Brad's gambling shack on the pier, in front of a crowd of eager boys, because they ran up credit with no cash, Josh's nervousness turned to serious worry. The slender brunette was bigger than Mac, but the small blond was a tuff nut and Josh knew it. So when Josh saw Mac go ballistic from the lambasting he received by the painful paddling and topped off with Brad's "Cherry Pie" (and all the while their buddy Malcolm, who had brought them there, was grinning from ear to ear), Josh's worry turned to terror and he tried to edge his way to the door. But two guards took his arms, held him through Mac's punishment, and were ready and eager when Brad turned his attention to Josh.
Josh had been stripped along with Mac at the beginning of his buddy's basting, and while he felt embarassed, it helped that all eyes had been on Mac's paddled patoot. But now that everyone was looking at him, he could not stop the butterflies swirling in his lower region and the quick lift of his little licoricestick to full erection. His face cheeks were bright red. His hind cheeks, he knew, would soon be the same.
"Well, well," Brad said, pointing at Josh's pricklett, "looks like you're enjoying the attention."
Josh was so mortified at his own maypole's rising and terrified he would also be getting "The Cherry Pie" in front of dozens of boys, he could not speak. He just gulped again. Brad indicated for the two guards to snap a _c_o_c_k_ring tightly around the base of the nude boy's family jewels. And cuffs around Josh's slender wrists. And the wristcuffs tightly crossed securely behind Josh's neck so his arms were up and unable to move. And a tether from the _c_o_c_k_ring to Brad's waiting hand.
"I think Josh likes the attention so much," Brad shouted out to the casino patrons, all eager-beaver boys who were still worked up from watching Mac's punishment and now waiting to see what innovative payout would be proferred to the bigger brunetter brat, "I have a wonderful idea."
Brad yanked hard on the tether, pulling on Josh's package. Josh yelped as he stumbled forward.
"Let's go, scout." Brad smiled.
"Wh.. wh... where are we going?" Josh finally got words out.
"Why, outside onto the pier, of course!"
Josh's mouth dropped open; he was in shock. Before, the thought of getting walloped in front of dozens of boys in the gambling shack was terrifying. Now, the thought of getting pulled naked out onto the midway of the pier packed with hundreds of kids all playing the carnival games or munching around the foodbooths or just hanging out listening to the music was unimaginable. The gambling shack was at the very end of the pier, well-lit by the night floodlights, and elevated above the crowd. If Josh was pulled out there... he involuntarily pulled away and the Brad gave another hard yank on the tether.
Josh begged for all it was worth. "No... oh, please, not outside, Brad. If we just stay in here, you can do anything you want, I swear...."
The teenager pulled hard on the leash. "Actually, I get to do anything I want anyway,"
Brad pulled and headed towards the door as the gambling shack patrons shouted encouragement. Josh whined objections, but with his wrists fixed behind his neck and the _c_o_c_k_ring fixed fast on his boypackage, the nude nipper found himself painfully pulled towards his humiliation. When his buddy Malcolm eagerly opened the door for Brad, Josh was puzzled. But the confusion only lasted a second because soon he had more worrisome things on his mind.
Brad pulled Josh out onto the large balcony and towards the edge that overlooked the hundreds of partying preteens on the pier below. The night floodlights showed quite clearly the teenage gambling boss leading a nude blubbering Josh out to the front railing. Brad tied the teather fast to the iron bar across the front edge of the raised platform, fixed firmly so that everyone could easily see Josh's macademia nuts hanging over the top rail and the fledgling's front flagpole sticking out hard and solid up into the night air. Josh's eyes widened as he faced the crowd and saw boys instantly snapping their heads and poking their friends to take a look. The gambling patrons all came out from the shack after Josh onto the platform to watch the rear view of the slender brunette's upcoming punishment, and their presence also got the masses on the pier to notice something was going on.
Below, it only took seconds for kids to start saying, "Whoah! Look at that!" "Check it out!" "Holy shiiiiiiiit!" "Is that really Josh?!?!" "What a dinky boner!" And soon the whole crowd was stopped, facing the bare boy tethered to the front balcony rail with a raging hardon, and they were jeering, cheering, leering and wondering what was going on. Josh had to close his eyes.
Brad shouted out to the crowd, "If anyone gets an invitation to my gambling facilities, I expect them to cover their bets. You all get to see what happens if you don't."
This brought even louder cheers and jeers from the crowd below. Brad indicated for the guards to each pick up an oar and stand behind Josh.
"Is everyone ready?" Brad called out to the crowd. A huge roar replied that had Josh shaking.
"You ready for this, pipsqueak?" Brad asked quietly.
Josh let out a soft, "Ye...ye... yes. Get it over with, please."
Brad stepped back and nodded to the guards. "You heard him, boys. Let him have it!"
The guards heaved their oars over their shoulders. The crowd fell silent. Josh started whimpering with his eyes closed and his lips pressed tightly together. Brad gave the final nod and the right guard let a solid swing sail through the air and connect with a resounding, solid swat to Josh's right cheek.
Josh's eyes popped wide open. Josh's mouth popped wide open. Before his voice could respond to the eruption of pain on his half-moon, the other oar slammed an equally loud swat onto his left cheek. The guards held up for a moment. Josh took in a few sharp breaths as the heat just got worst and worst on his behind. And finally he was able to catch his breath long enough to let out a holler that echoed all the way down the pier.
"WWWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"
Brad nodded to the guards. "That would be the right strength. Keep it up. A hundred swats"
Josh's hollering wound down to a whine. "A hundred! How can I take a hundred?"
Brad replied with a smile, "I'm gonna find out. Let him have it, boys."
Josh's protest turned into a solid, full-lunged hollering as the guards let fly a terrific volley on the boisterous brat's bottom.
"SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT "
The brat's bottom began to turn a bright crimson as wood whallopped the wailing waif's wagging tail with rhythmic whaps. The level of intense burn on his buns was rising with a steady pounding pain and Josh could only bounce up and down as the oars swung home hard with unflagging ferocity.
"SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT"
The crowd was shouting and applauding and hooting as Josh, pinioned before all the pier to see, twisted and swirmed and hollered and shouted, while the wooden oars rained solid pain on the rascal's rump. With his family jewels fixed fast on the rail, and his wrists crossed behind his neck, the increasing intensity of the pounding heat on his hind end was forcing the juvenal to jump and jerk more and more, even though it added a painful pull on the pup's front package.
"SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT"
The guards stepped away. Josh's wild dancing stopped but the boy kept sobbing and trying to catch his breath. The crowd started up again "More More More More."
Josh's eyes opened wide again. They were just starting to enjoy the thrill! Now they wanted more. One boy picked up a softball from one of the throwing gamebooths, got to the front, and said, "How's about a toss, Josh?"
Josh was violently shaking his head no. "Please, guys, comeon, please please please no, comeon"
But the boy took aim and threw at the fixed target just above him. The ball bounced off Josh's left thigh.
"Oh, please, comeon guys," Josh now pleaded to Brad beside him, "can I go back inside now? Please? Please?"
Brad addressed the crowd as he gave a signal to the two guards. "You guys want to throw some balls?"
Josh mouthed "Nooooooooo" but it was drowned out by the crowd shouting "YEEEAAAAHHHHH!"
"Alright," Brad smiled and pointed to a line, "you have to stand behind that line. I think you can get at least a dozen of you along there."
There was a lot of arguing and jockeying and pushing but finally twelve members of the local softball team convinced the crowd they should be the ones to throw.
"Okay, a bet's a bet. You wanna throw, you got it. The target is obvious. If you get a direct hit, you get fifty dollars credit at the gambling shack. If you miss, then you pay the piper. Sound good?"
The crowd roared yes. Josh was sobbing again at the thought of his pingpong balls getting pounded by the peewee pitching staff lined up in front of him. They each got a softball and were hefting the large round missiles to get a feel of the weight.
"Okay, pitcher number one. You're up. One shot. If you hit, you get fifty dollars credit. But if you miss, you're balls are in Josh's hands when this is over."
The line of pitcher's gulped, but they had pushed their way up to the front now and couldn't back down in front of the crowd. The first kid was their ace pitcher and he knew the distance was easy. He set himself, reared back, and let the large softball whip out of his hand. Josh instinctively tried to pull away, but his figs were fixed firmly in place.
"WHAAAPPP!" the ball nailed Josh square in the nuts.
"OOHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Josh loudly groaned and bent forward over the rail, legs crossing below.
The crowd erupted in a cheer and applause and the pitcher took a bow.
"Stand up for the next pitch," Brad said to Josh.
"I... I can't."
"You better. Don't you think I can dream up a lot worse than this?"
Josh groaned again as he straightened up and saw the smile on the next pitcher.
"WHAAAPPP!" the ball whalloped Josh's jujubes and again the tike was bending forward and groaning.
"Next!" Brad shouted.
Josh straightened up and looked into the bright smile of the next pitcher.
"Ooohhhhhhh," was all he could get out before the softball delivered a sound "WHAAAPPP!" and smacked full speed into Josh's jellybeans and forced out a "YYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" out of the hapless boy.
The next boy seemed to hurry his pitch and the ball clunked off the rail a good foot away from the intended target. The crowd booed. The boy turned white.
"Strip off those clothes, Randy," Brad said to the errant pitcher. You'll be getting a few from Josh here in just a few minutes."
The boy did not even think of disobeying Brad, especially with all his teammates around to help enforce the decree. But Josh did not take any succor in the thought of delivering payback. He was looking at the tall, shirtless muscular boy who was next in the line up and holding the ball like he could will it's course anywhere he wanted. And apparently that was the case.
The ball was whipped out with a whistling sidearm pitch and whomped into Josh's walnuts with a sound "WHAAAPPP!"
This pitch had really hit home because no holler came out of Josh's O-shaped mouth this time. Just a slow crossing of the eyes, a slow crossing of the legs, and a slow bending forward that had the whole crowd crossing their own legs in sympathy, each boy silently thinking "Oooooooooooooh.... that hadda hurt."
The remaining seven pitchers also were determined not to make the same mistake as their unfortunate teammate. So seven more softballs sailed sure and solid into Josh's marshmallows with mean accuracy.
"WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!" "WHAAAPPP!"
And when the last ball nailed the boy's bright red beans, the crowd was eager to see Josh untied and allowed to give a little comeuppance to the poor pitcher who had failed.
Josh was untied and while he was a little wobbly, he had no problems getting over his nakedness or his past half hour of punishment to go down the stairs with Brad to the now quivering and quaking Randy who stood naked and waiting for the inevitable.
"Any way you want to give it," Brad said to Josh.
Josh toyed with several ideas, thinking softballs and the like. But he was not a good pitcher and he wanted to make sure his shots counted.
"How many do I get?" Josh asked.
"Same. Twelve."
"What!!!???" the losing pitcher freaked. "No Way! I only got one pitch."
Randy soon realised he made a mistake talking back to the teenager. Brad gave a signal and the guards held the boy's arms.
Brad faced Randy, and said to Josh, "Let me give a little demonstration, Josh, on what can be done to loudmouths. You can do it several ways. You can give him a knee."
Brad's knee shot up between Randy's legs and he let out a holler that matched Josh's loudest howl when he was getting paddled.
"You can use your shoe."
Brad stepped back, _c_o_c_k_ed his knee up, and delivered a fast kick that connected the tip of his sneaker with the lad's loquats. Again, the boy let out a howl and the guards held him up in place.
"You can use his own shoe."
Brad picked up one of Randy's discarded sneakers and gave a strong swat to the sportboy's sugarplums with the bottom of the sneaker's heel.
"You can use a hand or a fist."
Brad stepped up and gave an open-handed swat to Randy's opals, and then made a fist and followed through with a hard rap to the runt's radishes.
"Turn him around," Brad instructed the guards, "bend him over and spread his legs."
The guards turned him around and pulled his feet far apart, but didn't have to help him bend over. The boy's boysenberries dangled between his spread legs as perfect a target as a punching bag.
"And you can deliver a good combination like this." Brad smiled and swung a fist up between the bent-over boy's legs, nailing his nards hard and bringing out a new register of moaning. The guards held the lad in place as Brad jerked his knee up to clobber the cubscout's coconuts. This had him stagger a bit, so the guards held him fast, kept the legs far apart, as Brad stepped back and delivered a full swing kick right up between the thighs, nailing the little leaguer so hard in the marbles that the brazen brat's feet jounced up off the ground with the impact.
The guards straightened the boy up and turned him back to face Josh and Brad.
"I'm finished demonstrating. Any more objections?" Brad asked.
Randy weakly shook his head no.
"Well, what's your pleasure?" Brad asked Josh.
Josh had been using the time to recover from his own butt-burning and ball-pounding and now was feeling a little giddy at the thought of twelve tries at this pre-teen's tatertots.
"Can I do two of each?"
The intended target again let out a protest, "But that will be sixteen! Not Twelve!"
Brad shook his head admonishingly and clucked his tongue. "Actually, Josh, you can now do three of each. That will make twenty-four. Any more objections, smartass?"
The wannabe-pitcher hung his head glumly and kept his mouth shut.
"Spread those legs, dude" Brad said.
Josh took his time as he proceeded to whallop the whelp's walnuts and left the peewee pitcher ejaculating yelps and howls with each smack to the player's peanuts. Each thwack on the baseball boy's bulge brought both cheers and sympathetic moans from the crowd. The final three were with the brat bent over, legs apart, and Josh starting back two steps to swing his sneaker with a full kick up into the little leager's lemondrops with loud, resounding "WHHHHHAAAAAPPP"'s. The guard released the poor-aiming pitcher who simply sat down bareassed on the pier, legs pulled up, trying to ride through the pain.
Now Brad gave a signal to the guards, who fetched a big wash-bucket and a large cardboard box. Josh was crest-fallen as he realized that all eyes were back on him now. He was remembering the finish that Mac had gone through.
"Don't think your punishment is over." Brad smiled as the crowd murmured, wondering what was going on.
"Are you gonna do The Cherry Pie?" Josh's voice asked in a terrified whisper.
"No, I like to vary my displays. Keeps the patrons interested. For you, we are going to demonstrate something I call 'The Hot Seat'."
Josh looked down at the washtub and gulped. He didn't see how it was going to work, but he had a feeling it was going to hurt. A lot. Really a lot. Brad nodded to the guards who opened up the box and started pulling out gallon bottles of.....
Josh couldn't believe his eyes. The crowd in front hooted with delight when they saw the labels. Word shot like wildfire through the crowds to inform everyone what was in the bottles. The gambling patrons on the balcony pushed to the edge to see and started tittering with glee. Josh and Mac's pal Malcolm was high-fiving the kid next to him and saying "Yes! Yes!" Brad had a mischevious gleam in his eye.
Josh started moaning. "Oh _s_h_i_t_. Oh please. Oh... no way. No No No No. Oh, just let me do the Cherry Pie. I'll do two Cherry Pies in a row. Oh Brad, please, oh _s_h_i_t_, I can't. I just can't."
The guards started pouring the contents of the bottles into the washtub... and the mentholate smell was unmistakeable: Liquid Heat Concentrate. This was supposed to be mixed with water and rubbed onto kids' sore legs after a hard soccer practice. What was it going to feel like as a concentrate on his already tenderized butt?!?!
Josh continued to beg, but as the liquid filled the bottom, he could see he was just getting the crowd more worked up.
"Have a seat, Josh." Brad smiled.
"I can't," Josh started to tear up. "I cannnnnnnnn't. I just caaaaaaan't."
Brad looked down at the seated pitcher who was still gripping his peachpits in pain.
"Either you sit down in that bucket right now, or I tell Randy that he gets double payback on your nuts. And then you'll still go onto the hot seat."
Josh's face screwed up with the dilemna.
"Have a seat," Brad said firmly. "Now."
Slowly, with the whole crowd working up a lusty cheer, Josh shuffled to the bucket and squated over the top.
"Ohhhhhhhh," the small boy whimpered.
"Sit down now," Brad ordered.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Josh continued to whine, but he started to lower his butt down into the bucket.
When Josh sat down the final inches and felt his mounds submerge below the liquid, it was oddly cool and soothing. He settled down and got a little worried as Brad stepped forward, put a metal bar across the center of the bucket's rim, and locked it into place with a padlock. The bar was now between Josh's shoulders and knees as the boy sat doubled-up in the bucket and there was no way he was going to get out. Brad poured a little more liquid heat in so that all of Josh's bottom was submerged, but the seated lad's family jewels were mercifully still left above the waterline.
The long paddling on his patoot had left Josh's magenta mounds painfully sensative and ultra-tender. Each and every pore on the poor pup's butt had been wide open and gasping for breath from the cool night air after his swat-session. So when the cherry-red cheeks sat in the liquid heat, those open pores just sucked in that searing salve to the max. The initial coolness quickly turned up in temperature as Brad stepped back after the bar was locked in place. And the temperature went up. And up.
Josh started to whimper, but he couldn't help squirming as his buns went from warm to uncomfortably toasty to uh-oh-this-is-really-getting-out-of-control hot. The crowd started to stir as Josh did the same. Josh started to wriggle from the intensifying heat, as the pain began to fully kick in with unbearable burning across his buns. And his wriggling got more wild as his legs started to kick out involuntarily.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Brad grinned.
"Oh... ohhhhhhhhhh. AHHHHHHHHHH...." Josh wriggled more.
"I really wouldn't do that," Brad repeated.
"I can't take it," Josh whined, "Get me out. I can't take this."
"Oh, you're gonna take it, my friend," Brad grinned, "and it's gonna last about fifteen minutes."
The searing heat below Josh's butt suddenly kicked in to an even higher level of intense heat that felt like a barbeque had been lit under his bottom and the lad was unable to get any words out between the long, steady wail coming from his mouth. And as the heat got unbearable, he couldn't help twisting and squirming.... and then the unthinkable happened. The boy's wild wriggling had accidently pulled his own cheeks apart and the liquid heat quickly filled up the kid's crack.
"Ohhhh..... Myyyyyyy...... HHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!"
Josh's hollering hit new decibels as his boy-bunghole felt like a monster match-head had just ignited in his backdoor o-ring. The searing white-hot pain shot though the core of the boy's nether region.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
"Told you shouldn't do that," Brad shrugged.
To the delight of the crowd, Josh's hollered just kept going as legs and arms flailed wildly about. But this just made the cheeks spread wider apart and the liquid heat was turning Josh's bottom nuclear.
Then when the tenderfoot thought it couldn't get worse, he made a mistake that made it very worse. He involuntarily jounced forward on the bucket, tilting it forward, and then actually got forward enough so that he was on his feet, bent forward with the bucket firmly fixed onto his tail. He couldn't have done anything worse and he realized it as he felt the liquid surge forward between his legs and completely wash over his nuts and bolt.
"Oh no." Josh suddenly stopped hollering with the sudden realization of what had happened.
"Oh no," Josh looked at Brad with wide, worried eyes with the sudden thought of what was about to happen.
"Oh _s_h_i_t_," the crowd hushed at the realization of what was about to happen.
"I'd sit down if I were you," Brad said.
His legs went flying up and the bucket plucked back down, but it was too late. He felt the same cooling sensation erupting across his front package.
"I.... I..." Josh stammered to Brad.
"Yes you sure did. And I suggest you hang on now. It's going to be a bumpy ride."
Josh gripped the sides of the bucket and his legs kicked wildly as his bat and baseballs suddenly erupted on fire that felt ten times worst than anything going on behind. Josh's yowling hit new heights as even more intense heat waves kept coming and kept coming, reaching higher plateaus of pain that roasted the cubscout's weenie and meatballs.
The crowd surged around, letting everyone get a good look at how the hotseat worked and how much more the seated runt could take. A few of the bigger kids helped themselves to the bottles and added a few splashed down between the begging boy's legs. Since Josh had already lit up his own lap, Brad didn't see any reason to stop the other kids from getting in on the fun.
After fifteen minutes, Brad finally released the bar and Josh lept out of the bucket, slapping his own nuts and butt hard to work off the heat, to no avail.
"There's only one good remedy around here," Brad said. "Wet sand. And it's all the way down there."
But Brad didn't need to point to the other end of the pier. Josh immediately got the message and tried to dash down the 200 yard pier to get to the beach at the entrance. But the pier was packed and everyone made sure that Josh got good hard slaps to the rump and raps on the radishes as he tried to push his way through the thick crowd of boys. It took another 15 minutes with the liquid heat still burning intensely below the waif's waist before he finally made it to the wet sand and put out the fire on his frontal playtoys and his fried fanny.