It
was a beautiful late summer morning, with a gentle breeze moderating
the warmth of the, still rising sun. However, the sanguine weather
was not reflected in the face of the handsome young men riding his
dappled grey horse through the Doset countryside. To say Redman was
sulking would be to understate the sullen darkness of his mood.
For
a youth as proud and arrogant as Redman, there were few pains which
stung as fiercely as humiliation or the loss of his treasured
dignity. Redman had been on this earth, just shy of twenty years, but
never before had he suffered such humiliation, nor had his dignity
been so shredded as in the last few days.
Almost
a week had passed since the mortifying events had occurred in the
great ballroom at his family mansion, yet the embarrassing images
still flashed through his mind, as fresh and as painful as if they
had happened moments before.
He
had been forced to strip naked in front of the mocking gaze of the
sons and daughters of the leading families of the county, and then
publicly spanked on his bare rump like some miscreant child. Humbled
and shamed, while the beautiful young gentlewomen giggled with glee
from behind their fans, and the young gentlemen, who had previously
envied him, now looked on with scorn and contempt.
That
had been the darkest day of his life (so far) and one he would never
forget.
Yet,
as was his nature, Redman was not chastened by what had happened.
Instead he seethed with furious anger and desire for revenge.
Forgetting how disastrously his previous attempts at retribution had
turned out.
All
of a sudden his dark thoughts were disturbed when a masked and
cloaked figure stepped our from behind a tree, pointing a musket at
him. “Get down from that handsome horse young Sir! I have greater
need of a steed myself!” the man's voice muffled by his thick mask.
Upon
realising he had encountered a Highwayman, Redman's initial impulse
was to spur his horse to flight,. However, the barrel of the musket
aiming at his chest made him sensibly think better, and he
reluctantly climbed down from his horse.
“I'll
have those fine leather boots too Laddie!” sneered the masked
stranger.
“You
can't take my horse and my boots...!” Redman protested. However,
the robber then pointed his weapon directly at the angry young man's
groin
“You
have a choice, young Sir!” the Highwayman laughed “You can keep
your boots.. or your pecker, but not both!”
Redman
did not require further encouragement, he quickly pulled off his
boots and threw them at the armed man “You will hang for this, you
villain!” he snarled
The
highwayman laughed “In that case, I might as well take those
breeches and your fine lace shirt as well!” his mouth twisted into
a cruel grin “... and your drawers!”
Redman
had had no option but to obey, stripping off his shirt , breeches and
then finally his underwear until, moments later he stood naked
scowling at the other man. Being forced to strip naked for a second
time in less than seven days infuriating and embarrassing him “You
can't leave me here like this!” snapped angrily.
“Oh
I can!” laughed the highwayman, as he mounted Redman's horse, the
handsome young blade's garments and boots held firmly under his arm
“Maybe a long walk home, with your pretty white bottom on display,
will teach you a lesson in humility!”
With
that he jerked the reins and dug his heels into the horse's flanks,
and they galloped off down the country lane, as the naked and
helpless Redman stared after him.
Vanishing
over the horizon, the rider and his newly acquired steed galloped on
for over a mile, until he reached the edge of a woodland stream,
where, upon stopping , and pulled off his mask, revealing himself to
be Able Griffiths, Redman's long suffering manservant.
Able
grinned sardonically imagining the impotent fury and humiliation his
haughty young master must be feeling at that moment. “He'll have a
long and uncomfortable walk home” he thought, enjoying imagining
Redman's mortification, his only regret being that he could not
personally observe it. “It's no less than he deserves!” he
smiled, as he stuffed the shirt, pants and breeches into the leather
boots, which he then threw into the water, where they sank without
trace.
He
then cantered off across the fields, as he did so, he had no idea
quite how uncomfortable and humiliating Redman's ordeal would be.
*******
Having
spent his life wearing boots, made of the finest leather, or soft kid
slippers, Redman had exceptionally tender and sensitive feet, so by
the time he had walked a mile in bare feet, he was in serious
discomfort and limping badly.
As
luck would have it, he eventually came upon the stream where Able had
discarded his clothing. Seeing an opportunity to sooth his aching
feet, Redman clambered down the bank and stepped into the cool
refreshing water.
As
he stood there allowing the water to ease the pain in his tender
feet, our unlucky hero had no idea that his boots and clothing were
mere yards away from him, hidden by less than two feet of dark
running water.
Just
as the water was soothing his painful feet, Redman was about to
experience a far greater pain in a very different part of his
anatomy. In order to take the weight off his feet, he decided to sit
down on a rock, but unfortunately for his, he didn't notice that the
rock was already occupied buy a brightly striped and venom filled
European hornet, blown north from it's usual Iberian homeland by a
recent gale.
As
has been noted previously Redman had a spectacularly beautiful
bottom, smooth, well rounded, creamy white and hairless, it resembled
the an artistic creation, carved by a great artist, in the finest
marble. However, the hornet saw no beauty in the huge and terrifying
shape, blocking out the sun and moving rapidly towards it.
The
tiny, but well armed, creature acted with instinct, believing itself
under attack, it attacked back, with an angry BUZZ it flew straight
at the approaching buttocks and, upon landing, sunk its fiery, venom
filled stinger into the tender flesh at the very edge of Redman's
puckerng anus, before ejecting an agonising stream of acid fire into
Redman's most sensitive parts.
To
Redman the sensation felt akin to a red hot pokere being rammed into
his rectum, he jumped up, clutching is backside, and let out a yell
of pain which echoed round the open countryside.
Young
Master Dane was on yet another losing streak. The pain from a hornet
sting is notoriously long lasting, and Redman would have a mighty
sore butt hole for the next 24 hours or more. However, that was not
the only discomfort he would suffer in that period.
Still
miles from home, Redman trudged on, sore bottomed and sore footed, he
tried to walk on the grass, which was less hard on his feet than the
rough and stony path.
As
he reached the brow of a hill, he spotted a small cottage in the
distance, but more important than that, he spotted clothes, including
a man's shirt and breeches, hung out on a washing line next to the
dwelling.
Had
his prayers been answered, the garments may be poor quality peasant
garb, but at least they would cover his nakedness and allow him some
dignity when he arrived home.
Briefly
forgetting the pain in his feet (if not yet the still burning hornet
sting) Redman crept quickly across the field towards the cottage,
glancing around in the hope that nobody would see him.
Upon
reaching the washing line, the handsom myoung man quickly unpegged a
white shirt and pulled it over his head. Although the garment was
likely the owners Sunday best shirt, our haughty young gentleman
frowned in disgust at the feeling of the rough course material
against his skin.
However,
seconds later, Redman experienced an altogether more unpleasant
sensation, as the prongs of a garden fork were jabbed into he bare
backside. He jumped in the air, tripped, and fell, landing heavily on
his hornet stung and just jabbed rump.
He
looked up and saw an angry looking man holding a long handled hay
fork which was pointed threateningly at him. More disturbing still,
was the woman next to him, holding a huge and, no doubt very sharp
scythe, of the sort often depicted as held by Azrael, the Angel of
Death.
Appreciating
the danger he was in and what this hostile couple's perception must
be, he attempted to explain himself “I was robbed ….” he began,
but was immediately interrupted
“It
seems to me, it be you who's doing the robbing!” snarled the
farmer's wife, taking a step towards him, still clutching her
terrifying weapon. “I've a mind to rob thee of them fine pair of
bollocks, your exposing to the world!”
Realising,
to his horror, that his lower body was totally exposed, Redman
hastily covered his groin with his hands. “It was a Highway man, a
villain, he took my clothes and my horse!”
“A
likely story!” scoffed the woman “There be no Highwaymen in these
parts since then hanged Sam Wiggins back in '52 ….. like you'll be
hanged soon enough you young Scallywag!”
“We'll
see what the constable has to say about this!” interjected the
farmer, who was of a more temperate nature than his hot blooded wife
“We'll take you into town, and let the law deal with this, now get
up!”
Redman
was about to object , but one look at the wild haired Valkyrie and
her deadly scythe made him think better of it “Please good Sir,
could I have the loan of a pair of breeches, to cover my modesty?”
“You'll
get no more from us!” replied the women “You'll ride into town
bare assed, like the Rapscallion you are!”
Redman
responded with characteristic haughty outrage “Do you know who I am
madam?!!!”
“Don't
take on airs laddie You are nowt but a lowlife scoundrel!” shouted
the farmer jabbing at the unhappy Redman with his fork.
Redman
dodged the weapon, and reluctant to suffer further injury decided to
control his tongue and comply with the farmers barked instructions.
Hopefully and officer of the law would be more easy to deal with that
this angry low class couple.
Poor
Reman's latest humiliation had only just begun, to his horror, the
farmer ordered him to lie face down over the back, of an old,
flea-bitten looking donkey, and then tied him in place, as the wife
stood nearby menacing him with her scythe.
As
Redman was still only wearing the farmer's shirt, he was naked from
the waist down (or in his current position, from the waist up).
Hence the position he was now in resulted in maximum exposure. With
his legs apart, his smooth, pink and hairless bare bottom uppermost
and his anus and ball-sack on full display, he presented quite a
striking spectacle.
It
was with the deeply furious and painfully embarrassed Redman in this
state, that the farmer led the across the fields into the local town,
while his wife followed on, intermittently tapping the donkey's
hindquarters and Redman's upraised bottom with a long riding whip.
Predictably she smacked the second harder, and more enthusiastically
than the first.
As
Redman's increasingly bad luck would have it, that day was Market day
in the small town of Tinker's Bottom, so the streets were crowded
with shoppers who would all be afforded an exquisite, and close up,
view of the unlucky young blade's nether regions.
There
was nothing Redman could do, but stare at the cobble stones below, or
back over his shoulder, his face now scarlet with embarrassment.
“What
have we here?” boomed a voice with a clear note of authority, as
a tall man in a local constable's uniform stepped out of the swiftly
crowd of amused onlookers.
“He
be a low misbegotten thief, who we caught stealing our Silas's Sunday
best !” replied the farmer's wife.
“I
am no thief Officer!” cried Redman, attempting to sound dignified
despite his position “I am the Honourable Redman Dane, the son of
Sir Humphrey Dane of Dane Mannor, and I have been sorely mistreated
by these Common peasants! …..OWWCH!” he cried out in pain as the
farmer's wife hit his bare rump with her whip.
“Don't
you be callin' us common you bog dwelling pinch purse!” snarled the
angry woman.
“And
also don't tell lies!” commanded the policeman “The very
suggestion that the son of a gentleman like Sir Humphrey Dane would
be running round the countryside with no breeches, and stealing from
good people, is an outrage!” he said “You better not make such
claims in front of the Magistrate, or it will go worse for you!”
“Magistrate?”
“Aye!
The Magistrate is holding court in the morning.... and you'll be in
front of him sonny Jim!” the constable paused “Except there's
nowhere to keep you overnight, the jail is fit for bursting!”
“Put
him in the stocks!” cried a helpful voice from the crowd
“Excellent
solution!” agreed the cunstable
“You
can't be serious my man...OUCH!” cried Redman in outage, and in
pain, as the farmer's wife gave him another whack.
Redman
was horrified at the prospect of being placed in stocks, but not as
horrified as he was when he actually saw the stocks themselves.
Over
the years the weight of the heavy panel through which an unfortunate
miscreant would place their head and hands, had proved too much for
the central column on which it sat. The column had collapsed, and
the panel had sunk to the ground.
As
a result, any individual placed in the stocks, was required to kneel,
with his face inches from the ground and his bottom raised high in
the air.
This
was an extremely undignified, exposed and humiliating position, and
especially so for Redman, who, you, gentle reader, will recall, was
still naked from the waist down.
Despite
Redman's protests, it was this revealing position he was manhandled
into by two burly village locals, before being locked firmly into
place.
Once
again Redman was in a highly exposed and embarrassing position from
which he could not escape. His mortification made all the worse by
the sound of tittering and guffawing he could hear from behind him,
as the growing crowd of villagers enjoyed the view.
And
it seemed he would have to endure this indignity for many hours, and
through the night.
Could
Redman's bad luck possibly get any worse?