Author's Note: This is a quick one for all our Australian readers
(G'day sports!). I always loved those nature and survival programs
from the bush. There may appear to be some passing resemblance to
persons living and quite well-known here - I'm afraid this is completely
deliberate . . .
"G'day, bush fans! Today I'm going to be telling you about the marvellous bush tucker you can find out here in the Outback, a wilderness that can be seriously unpleasant for those who don't know a little about the surprising local wildlife and . . . Oi! Mate!! Do you bleedin' mind?"
"Cut! Sorry, Les, we'll have to go again," said Jim, the director.
Les Hidings was looking furiously at the young man sitting to Jim's left, who had just dropped a whole folder of papers mid-speech and was sheepishly picking them all up while trying to avoid the exasperated mutterings of the small crew. It was the fourth take of this opening shot that morning. At this rate they wouldn't be finishing the shoot today they still had two more locations to set up, and the company was extremely reluctant to pay overtime, even on Les's highly successful TV nature serial.
"Gee, I'm really sorry, Les, guys . . . "
The boy was sandy-haired, slender, about 17 and rapidly turning a shade redder than Ayers Rock in the sunset. He was Jim's nephew, helping out as runner and general assistant while the usual bloke was having a well-earned break. Les the star could be notoriously demanding, and the dogsbody job of keeping him happy was not an easy one, as Billy was rapidly finding out. He'd directly or indirectly been responsible for each retake already today, and the atmosphere was turning decidedly thundery around him.
The sound man and camera operator looked at each other with resignation and started to reset for the next take, while Les stormed over to Billy and his uncle where they sat next to the second jeep.
"Mate, this is not on. I'm trying to make a TV programme here, not wet-nurse some kid who can't sit still through his bloody work experience. We need this opening wrapped, and he's cost us all morning already."
"I'm very sorry, Les, I'm sure it was an accident." Jim tried to placate him, while glancing angrily at his nephew beside him. Billy was shrinking into the canvas chair, wishing he was anywhere but here, trapped between the fast mounting wrath of his uncle and the furious stare of the burly bush expert. The holiday job that had seemed such a great opportunity at the time, working for his uncle looking after the needs of his TV idol Les Hidings, was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
He'd been unable to do anything right all morning. He'd mislaid the scripts folder just as Les called for it, and failed to remember to put two sugars in the star's coffee. As the short-tempered man simmered and scowled, his uncle had taken him to one side and reminded him firmly not to mess up any more. Then they began filming the day's scenes, or trying to. First there had been the loud sweet wrapper Billy had started to unwrap at the end of Les's first speech, right next to the microphone. That was almost forgivable for anyone who'd never worked in TV before - just very thoughtless. They'd sent him on an errand during the next take, but he arrived back talking on the team mobile 'phone with an urgent message for Jim, without checking whether they were shooting or not. The message was quite important though, so he'd been reprimanded again and allowed to get the crew coffee while they restarted. Coming back, and holding a tray of mugs, he'd managed to trip over a spare camera battery - unfortunately they hadn't realised just how much coffee had spilt over the camera until they tried to start take three. There hadn't seemed any danger of him messing up by making him sit down quietly with the script sheets though . . .
"Nah, it's not good enough, Jim," Les fumed. "We're on a schedule and a budget here and this useless kid of yours is screwing both up. You promised me a good replacement for Matt while he was away, and this isn't it!"
"Look, Les," Jim soothed, "let's take five while I have a good chat with Billy here and make him understand what's needed. We'll soon make the time up. We just need to calm down and . . . "
"It's not a good talking-to he needs," Les interrupted. "My boys knew when to be quiet and keep out of the way, and do what they were told too, or God help them! I know how to make lads like him understand - he's not too old to learn that lesson the old-fashioned way."
Billy squirmed uncomfortably. He knew exactly what Les was suggesting.
It wasn't that he was an unusually bad boy, but he'd just always seemed to attract trouble that invariably he ended up getting the blame for. Whenever Billy tried to explain the events, standing nervously in his room while his Dad waited patiently holding his favourite worn slipper, he'd usually found that they never seemed quite as innocent in the re-telling as he remembered, and so it was always only fair that he should have to drop his shorts and underpants and bend over the end of his bed for a punishment. Of course, as he got older and the escapades grew more inventive (the next-door neighbour's cat still avoided him whenever he was in the yard) he'd found that the slipper was retired in favour of his father's thick brown leather belt, an heirloom from his grandfather that his Dad assured him he and Billy's uncle had been no strangers to feeling curling viciously around their own bare buttocks in their youth. This historical perspective was little comfort to Billy though, who often found himself face-down and clutching his mattress, his bare feet spread wide on the rough carpet, writhing and moaning as the supple old strap snapped and cracked, covering his out-thrust teenage bottom all over with scarlet, fiery kisses.
And his uncle was almost as used as his father to dealing with him in loco parentis, during their many family camping trips together before he became too busy as the regular director for Les and his TV show, if anything even more enthusiastic than his Dad in the application of a well-earned thrashing. This grim thought suddenly rushed uppermost in Billy's mind as he wilted in the glare of the two older men. He hoped that his uncle was not going to be encouraged by the angry Les to teach him any sort of lesson in front of the camera crew, although he was in little doubt, from some painful experiences far more public than he'd have liked, that the presence of the three other men wouldn't stop Jim if he decided that was just what Billy needed.
"Please, Jim - I'm very sorry Les. It was careless of me. It won't happen again I swear it," he pleaded urgently.
"Nah, mate," Jim finally said, to Billy's obvious relief. "He's not been an angel today, but we need to get this opening in the can. If Shane and Don are ready we'll do a final take and shift to the next site before lunch. Now you !" He jabbed an accusing finger at Billy. "You get in the jeep, sit still and don't make a sound, or I might just change my mind. You've been a darned nuisance all morning and Les is right, you're asking for a leathering, so don't give me any more excuses to give you one, 'cos you know I will !"
Billy got up gratefully and scampered to the jeep. He could hear Jim giving Les some directions as he took his mark again, and then he was inside the jeep with the door shut, safe from the anger of his uncle. He was sure he'd seen Les leering ominously at the seat of his tight khaki shorts as he passed him - he wished now that he'd not tried to emulate the star in his choice of bonzer bush gear, as the shorts had been a good fit when he'd been just 16 . . .
And they were even tighter right now, as Billy thought guiltily about the stocky TV star and the thrashing he'd threatened, and that he'd only narrowly avoided. He had discovered long ago that the after-effect of all that painful endurance, as he nursed his throbbing and welted cheeks after the harsh caresses of his father's belt, was an equally strong reaction in his groin, the pleasure of dealing with which took the edge off the pain and transmuted it into a glowing, blissful warmth. Until he sat down, however! But the promise of that glow and the thought of receiving it from the strong hands of his idol was starting a chain reaction that he didn't want to slow down. Out of sight, safe in the jeep, he closed his eyes and began to rub the bulge in his tight shorts slowly, thinking of being one of Les's lucky sons, while outside the strict father began his speech for the fifth time that day.
"G'day, bush fans! Today I'm going to be telling you about the marvellous bush tucker you . . . "
"AAAARGH!!"
The boy's scream was swiftly followed by the sound of the jeep door slamming. It was also followed by the angry shouts of the team as they rushed to see why they'd been interrupted again.
"It's huge! It just came out from under the steering wheel and dropped on my leg! Oh my God it nearly bit me!!" Billy blubbered.
Les and Jim peered into the jeep at the very large long-legged spider crouching menacingly on the seat. It certainly looked like the stuff of very bad arachnophobic dreams indeed. Then Les laughed, loudly, and opened the jeep door, scooping up the hairy monster in a swift motion.
"Well, this beastie wouldn't have bitten you, Billy boy! It's a Huntsman, that likes to crawl into dry corners and hide inside - it must have got into the jeep overnight. It's quite harmless - see!" And with that he thrust the huge wriggling thing right into Billy's face, making him step back in shock. Despite Les's obvious assurance, he was still afraid of the thing. "I thought you watched my programs, lad - you know there aren't any poisonous ones round here, not this size." And then he remembered, as they all did, that the habits of this particular harmless spider were the subject of Les's last programme and that he'd been discussing it the day before with his uncle as they prepared for the day's filming.
Jim glowered at the still-shaking Billy. "That's another take you've cost us. Do you think you can manage to stay out of trouble for just five more minutes before you cost the company a whole morning's worth of filming?" He was not impressed with the way Billy was behaving, and making him look like a fool in front of his colleagues for offering him the opportunity to help out.
Les was still chuckling, however, as he put the big spider down by a nearby bush and watched it scuttle into the shade. "No harm done, Jim, he's had a bit of a fright, that's all." He went back to his mark for another take, his anger almost forgotten.
Billy was grateful to the star for standing up for him. His stupid mistake was all due to him being distracted by his illicit thoughts of the strong bushman and the results they'd had, which had quite disappeared in his fright. He walked over to the jeep again and watched the crew begin take six, as his uncle flashed him an icy warning glance that chilled him to the marrow even in the bright morning sunlight. He leant against the jeep bonnet as Les started again.
"G'day, bush fans! Today . . . "
He got no further, because with a yell Billy fell off the bonnet. The jeep had rolled out from under him and was making slowly for the yabby creek Les was going to be fishing in later that afternoon, picking up speed down the gentle slope. Billy could only look on, sprawled in the dirt and horrified, as Les whirled round and saw the escaping jeep. He dashed after it and wrenched open the door, throwing himself inside to lean across the seat and pull up the handbrake. With a scraping of tyres and a cloud of dust the jeep jerked to a halt a few metres from the steepest part of the creek bank. Les hauled himself into the driver's seat to coax the diesel into life and bring it back to where the crew stood, frozen and open-mouthed.
Jim sprang into life. "You little runt!" he yelled. "You nearly wrecked the friggin' jeep!" Within a second he had a grip on Billy's collar and was hauling him off the ground and onto his feet. "You're going to get such a hiding, you'll think your bloody arse is on fire!"
Billy suddenly realised what they'd all worked out - in his frenzy to get away from the spider earlier, he'd knocked the hand-brake off. Now he knew he was in for it, and no escape. Les had parked the jeep and Jim threw Billy roughly over the bonnet, while he started to snivel.
"Oh, please Jim. I didn't know I'd knocked the brake. Please Les - I didn't do any damage - you caught the jeep. Pleeaase!"
But Jim was rummaging in the back for some rope - a long hank was lifted out and soon began to be knotted around the teenager's wrists as he pleaded. His uncle was too angry to listen to his cries, shouting "Shut up! I'm going to give you the thrashing of your life, you terror!"
Les and the sound engineer looked on amused, while the cameraman surreptitiously swivelled the video camera round on the tripod, quickly checked the focus and flicked the record switch. This was one out-take he couldn't afford to miss! His editor had a friend who'd pay top Aussie dollar for this bit of tape!
Jim had now pulled Billy's bound wrists right over the bonnet, tying the rope to the wheel on the other side. He was stretched uncomfortably across the warm metal, and very aware that the tight shorts were showing off his bare thighs and firm young bottom very prettily, and that the four older men were enjoying the view of him struggling there, helpless. Despite his fear, Billy suddenly felt a powerful throb from his groin, and the member trapped there leaped again when he felt a pair of hands reach around to the flies on the shorts, undo them and wrench them down to his ankles.
"Jim, pleeaase, no! Not that! Noooooo!" he wailed, desperately.
"You're going to be whipped good and proper, mate - on your bare arse!" was his only reply, and the thin underpants swiftly followed the shorts over his feet and off, leaving the proud buttocks exposed to his angry uncle and his friends. Red-faced in adolescent shame, his uncontrollable arousal was betrayed by the stiffening teenage _c_o_c_k_ clearly visible between his parted thighs.
"Ah, Christ!" then exclaimed Jim in annoyance. "I've got no belt on to give the tyke a thrashing!"
Billy's relief was short-lived.
"Nah worries, sport," said Les, "I see just the thing - great stuff, it's really strong and very flexible. Used it all the time on my boys. Should work a treat on this young'un!" He walked over to a nearby clump of trees and selected a long thin branch. With a very large knife he cut the branch and removed all the twigs sprouting from it, carefully paring off the bark. The switch he gave Jim was 3 feet long, smooth and narrow and it swooshed alarmingly as he tested it through the air.
Jim bent the switch and watched it spring back straight, full of green sap. "Very nice, Les, but I can wait a bit for my turn. Why don't you demonstrate first for us? I'm sure we'd all like the expert here to teach us a bit of bush lore today, wouldn't we Billy?!" He smirked and passed the wicked looking rod back to Les, who smiled and walked up to the jeep, and the wriggling, whimpering Billy. Standing close, he tapped the switch smartly on the fleshiest part of the youngster's cheeks, and despite himself Billy couldn't help jumping.
Then Billy surrendered to the urging from his groin, and pushed his bottom out for the first stinging blow of his punishment, from the man he worshipped - after all, he knew he'd earned it.
"It'd be a pleasure, mate!" said Les, very appreciatively.
He was certainly an expert, thought Billy through the agony, his bare legs dancing and jerking as the switch began to bite deeply time after time into his tender flesh. His arousal was quickly forgotten in the rain of incandescent blows covering every inch and scouring every crevice of his reddening rear, and he soon realised that his father's heavy belt was no match for Les's skill with the whippy bush rod. The minutes turned into an overwhelming eternity of torment, then there was a hushed pause, interrupted only by Billy's gasping, ragged breath. In shock, he realised they were casually discussing the results of Les's handiwork.
"What d'you reckon, Shane?"
"Streuth, it's a beaut, mate! Reminds me of that time Donny sat on the boulder up in Great Sandy and it nearly took the skin off his arse, it was so hot."
"Yeah, they must have heard him yell right to the Bungles! Man, he was scorched!" laughed Jim.
The cameraman was only too happy to join in the mirth at his expense. He was thinking of the profits from the extra tape he was getting of another blistered arse, that was now stretched across the jeep right in front of him, twitching and clenching in an effort to relieve the unbearable stinging.
Then, to Billy's horror he heard Jim say: "All right Les, let's have a go. I think I can get the hang of it."
His uncle was a very fast learner, and he kept his promise. When he'd finished the whole of Billy's rear end, from his thighs upwards, felt as if he'd just sat in a pool of burning kerosene. He was sobbing quietly as they left him there, still tied over the bonnet, to finish the shot he'd interrupted so many times that morning.
As the rest of the crew packed up their gear and prepared to move downhill to the next location, Les came back behind the jeep and untied Billy, sitting down on the ground and spreading the exhausted boy face-down across his lap. Rather than giving him the extra spanking Billy feared he was going to get, the bushman began rubbing some soothing leaves he'd brought all over the boy's welted cheeks, with some enthusiasm Billy noticed. The gentle massage of the rough hands soon made the fire still burning there far more bearable, and eventually it subsided into a glow, and then the realisation that he was bottom-up over the TV star's knee suddenly triggered the memory of his earlier wish to be in just this position. He quite perked up, and so, he couldn't help feeling, had Les. As an answering hardness pressed against Billy's stomach, the strong probing fingers now ran deliberately right down Billy's sensitised bum-crack to the base of his balls, causing an unmistakable gasp of pleasure from the youth.
With a gentle pat, Les encouraged him to stand up. He retrieved Billy's underpants and shorts from where his uncle had thrown them, and handed them back, and then chuckled at the sight of Billy trying to hide his newly-hard _c_o_c_k_, bobbing gleefully while he gingerly pulled up the pants, the thin fabric stretching tightly over his sore and swollen backside.
"You won't be wanting to wear those shorts of yours for a while, sonny, as they won't fit you now with that sore arse. And don't worry about that." He pointed to the lad's erection as he hurriedly tried to stuff it into the underpants. "Go find somewhere quiet while we pack up here. Thing about the bush is, there's no-one here to see but yer mates!" He grinned and Billy couldn't help smiling back, a little bashfully.
Then Les picked up the discarded bush switch and placed it carefully in the back of the jeep.
"I think I'll keep this handy - looks like we'll be needing it again before the end of the shoot!"
He tousled Billy's hair and grinned again, winking, before striding off to help the others load up the first jeep.
Perhaps the Outback wasn't so unpleasant after all, thought Billy, as he made quickly for the little clump of trees near the creek. At least, when you had a mate like Les, who knew everything about the surprising local wildlife and flora, and was kind and gentle but strong and . . .
It was going to be an interesting holiday.
Copyright © 2001 ianboy