More Books
Spank Us Again, Sam
Jere Haken
Copyright 2012 Jere Haken
When Nate takes his best friend to get his tongue pierced against his dom's wishes, he knows Donnie will be in deep trouble when Sam inevitably finds out. What he doesn't count on is his own bottom also suffering the consequences of their defiance. This story is for those who enjoy a good spanking!
This erotic short story focuses on the spanking aspect of a D/s relationship between two adult gay men. It features an ill-fated tongue ring, one sexy dom, a scary wooden hairbrush, and two sound spankings for two naughty boys. To be enjoyed by adults only!
***
"Tham tol me notthu, buh I don' care. I can get my tongue pierthed if I wan' to. Ith my tongue!"
"Is that so?"
"Yeth."
"Dude, you are gonna be in so much trouble."
I act concerned, but really, I love it when Donnie gets in trouble. When he gets in trouble, he gets spanked. And when he gets spanked, I have masturbation material for weeks.
"Don' care."
Oh, he cares. He just forgets that fact every single time until he's pushed Sam too far. When he's bawling with his pants around his ankles, he cares a lot.
"Stop talking now," the tattooed man says. "I'm about to start."
It's about time. Donnie's been sitting there with a bib around his neck and his tongue in the forceps for two or three minutes, jabbering on about being a grown man with rights. This experience just goes to show that nothing stops my best friend's mouth from running.
"Are you absolutely sure you don't want the topical analgesic?" the man asks.
"Yeth. Thtick me alreathy!"
The man--who's losing patience with my dear friend, it seems--grips the forceps tightly, wipes his tongue dry, and slides the bar through. Donnie's eyes water, and I wince. It looks painful. Once the balls are on, though, he's all smiles and checking himself out in the small mirror behind us.
The man is reminding him to take proper care of the piercing. I hope he's listening, but I have my doubts. He's already busy looking at the different studs he's going to get.
"Check this one out!" he says. "Vibrating! I better get this one for sure. Sam can't be too mad at me if I come home with a vibrating tongue ring."
He pokes his tongue out at me and waggles it suggestively. It looks strange with the piercing.
"Sorry," the tattooed man says, though he doesn't sound especially sorry. "You can't have that one for a few weeks."
"Why not?"
"Gotta heal up first."
"Aww, come on. I won't put it in until it's ready!"
"No can do," the man says. "I'm not selling you anything but the basic until you're fully healed. Come back in two weeks."
"Fine."
Donnie huffs and places the vibrating tongue ring back on its hook. He pulls out his wallet and pays the man, acting like it's money well-spent. I'm pretty sure he's just bought the mother of all spankings for himself.
We aren't even through the doors yet when he says to me,
"So, you'll help me keep this a secret until it's healed, right?"
Damn him, always dragging me into his messes.
***
Donnie and I have been best friends since we were little kids. We met when we were eight years old and he moved to town with his mom and stepdad. His very first day of school, he saved me from being socked by the second-grade bully. After that, we were inseparable.
He's always been kind of impulsive, and when we were growing up, his schemes got us into hot water more times than I can count. We were always in trouble for something. Usually, though, Donnie turned on the waterworks or talked us out of it. Not always, though. My parents' preferred method of punishment was grounding, but his chose more traditional methods. His stepfather was a big, scary dude--to us little kids, anyway--and when he pushed him too far, well... My friend spent a lot of nights sleeping on his stomach.
Donnie's stepdad kept him in line back then, but now it's Sam. I couldn't believe my ears when he first told me what he was into. Like I said, we'd been best friends forever, but I never would have pegged him for a kinkster. When he told me he was looking for a dom for regular discipline, I laughed. I thought he was joking. It hurt his feelings so bad that he didn't talk to me for two days. I had to do a little groveling, but eventually I got back into his good graces. Donnie never could stay mad long.
He asked me to help him in his search for a dom. I told him it was too weird, but that didn't stop him from sending me tons of online profiles to view. Eventually I agreed to help. I felt like I was his editor or something, throwing out the duds. And there were a lot of duds. Eventually, though, we'd found Sam.
Sam is sort of an enigma to me. He commands authority, but I can't quite figure out why. He's not only that way with Donnie, either. When Sam walks into a room, he is immediately in charge, and people seem to instinctively respond to and respect that. He's not a jerk or anything, and he's not loud or obnoxious. He's just... dominant.
He doesn't try to assert that dominance on people who don't want it. Donnie introduced him to me right away, but he was quick to tell him that I wasn't a submissive and wasn't looking for a disciplinarian. Sam had smiled and shook my hand, and since then all I can really think about is what it'd be like to witness that hard palm cracking down on my best friend's naughty little ass.
Donnie is braver than I am and always has been. He had the balls to tell me he was a submissive, but I'd never had the guts to tell him I was a spanko. I guess I didn't want to steal his thunder. I thought I would tell him eventually, but it seemed tacky to do it right after his big reveal. Then more and more time passed, and I still hadn't told him. When he began recounting his spankings to me, well, that didn't exactly seem like a good time to tell him, either.
I know I'll have to get around to admitting it someday, but for now, I'm just here for support.
We step through the door. Sam takes one look at Donnie and knows something is up.
"What'd you do?"
Donnie thinks he's a good liar, but he's not. He has a tell. His tell is his entire face. If he's even the slightest bit guilty of something, it shows.
Apparently he forgot that his partner could read him so easily. He looks stricken. I can see the wheels turning as he grasps for an answer. He doesn't want to lie to Sam, but he doesn't want to tell him the truth, either.
"Sorry I brought him back late, Sam," I interject. "It's my fault. I got to messing around at the arcade and lost track of time."
The arcade? I try not to wince. I haven't been to an arcade in years. Hell, I'm not even sure they still exist.
"The arcade, huh?" Sam asks. Oh no. He doesn't buy it. "What'd you play?"
"Just some Skee-ball," I say, trying to sound casual. "Like I said, sorry. It was my fault."
Donnie looks at me like I'm a true hero. When he smiles at me, I even sort of feel like one. Until Sam stands up, that is. Then I feel like I'm three inches tall and about to be in deep shit.
"You're lying," he says.
I lick my lips. It seems I learned my deception skills from Donnie.
"I... I mean, I guess we also stopped and had a couple drinks," I add.
Drinks. Of course! Why hadn't I said that earlier instead of that nonsense about the arcade? Drinks are much more plausible for two young guys our age.
"What'd you have?" Sam asks. "And how many?"
I'm tired of the question-and-answer session. Coming up with believable responses is hard work.
"What's with the third degree?" I reply. "We're both twenty-one."
Donnie's eyes widen. He seems to regret asking me to keep his secret.
Sam gives me a look. It's one of those piercing dom looks. I've seen him use it on my friend dozens of times, and it always works. It reduces him to a stammering little kid. Well, I'm not his sub, and he's not my dom. I'm not going to let it affect me. I stare back coolly.
"Get on
up to your room, Donnie."
I turn to go with him, but Sam puts his hand on my arm, and I stay. I watch longingly as Donnie disappears up the stairs. My heart races.
"Listen, Nate. I know I'm not the boss of you," he says. His hand is still on my arm, but I don't pull away. "But I am the boss of him, and I want to keep him safe. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me the truth about where he's been."
"I did." It comes out as a squeak. Squeaks are not very manly or convincing, I decide. I will try to avoid them in the future.
"Nate."
His voice holds that warning tone, the one he uses with Donnie that usually follows the piercing dom look and precedes a hard smack on the bottom. My free hand creeps protectively behind me. Sam smiles tightly.
"You're not mine to spank," he says, "or it would already be well underway."
I drop my gaze. I wish he would let go of my arm. He's making me nervous and excited all at once. I wish he would do it. I wish he would jerk me around and slap my ass, hard. Just once. Just so I'd know how it felt. I also pray he doesn't.
"Donnie is grounded until further notice," he says, dropping my arm. "You need to go on home now."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Besides, what would I say?
***
I'm so disappointed that I almost can't stand it, and I can't even figure out why. I lied to Sam. I even talked back to him. But I did it for Donnie. Donnie's my best friend. I'd do anything for him. That's what matters, right? So why do I feel so terrible?
It's only a matter of time--probably a short matter, if the past is any indication--before Sam finds out about the piercing. After all, I'm sure Donnie's tongue is swelling. He already sounded different when he spoke. Sam will question him, and he'll notice. Then what?
I already know the answer to that. I know the answer so well that it plays out in my mind like a movie. A special, private screening with an attentive audience of one.
First, he'll make him remove the tongue ring. He'll hold his hand out for it, and Donnie will drop it into his palm. Sam will turn it over and over in his hand, looking from it to Donnie. My friend will stare dejectedly at the floor. He won't want to make eye contact. He knows he disobeyed. He'll be fidgeting nervously and shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other. He'll be thinking about the impending spanking.
Sam will tell him to stand up straight, and then he'll force him to make eye contact, maybe by placing one finger on his chin and tilting it upward. Then the questions will start, the questions that really get to him. Questions like, "How could you betray my trust like that?" and "Do you think I don't have your best interests at heart?" Those kinds of questions kill Donnie. They affect him more sometimes than the actual punishment. A tear might even slide down his cheek as Sam scolds him.
By the time Sam gets done raking him over the coals, Donnie will be practically begging for a spanking. He needs it. He needs something to cleanse him of the guilt. He needs Sam to bare his bottom and take him over his knee. He needs to feel that sharp sting of correction in his behind. He hates the pain, but it makes him feel loved and cared for. He needs to be brought to tears. And he needs to be forgiven. Sam always forgives him after a spanking. He pets him and cuddles him and dries his tears. Sometimes, he even sits him in his lap until he's calmed down. Donnie's too big for that, but he doesn't feel like he is. He likes to snuggle in close to Sam's chest. He even likes it when his dom swats his bottom again just hard enough to remind him who's in charge.
That's how it'll happen, according to my imagination, anyway. I've never gotten to see one of Donnie's punishment sessions in action, but he's told me about them. It takes him a few days to get back to normal after a serious spanking, but when he does, he looks back on them almost fondly. It doesn't take much prompting for him to tell me the tale from start to finish. In fact, he almost always brings it up first. It's like he's proud.
I'm not proud of this, but I'm looking forward to hearing all about Sam's inevitable discovery of the tongue ring. I have a feeling my friend will get it good for that. Sam had expressly forbidden him from doing it, and he did it anyway. Defiance always gets him extra.
I'm in bed stroking myself to that very thought as the phone rings. It startles me. No one ever calls my apartment after eleven. I consider ignoring it--I'm busy--but due to the late hour, I know it must be important. Reluctantly, I let go of my hard-on and roll over to answer the call.
"Nate," Donnie says. I can tell he's upset. "I... Sam wants you to come back over. Can you?"
The words echo in my head. I don't immediately reply, and Donnie repeats my name uncertainly.
"I'm here," I say. "I can come over. I'll see you soon."
I want to ask him what it's about, but of course I know. What I don't know is what Sam wants with me.
Normally I wouldn't leave the house like this, but I don't want to keep my friend waiting. I throw on a t-shirt and flip flops and walk straight to Sam's house in my pajama bottoms.
I knock on the door when I get there, only once. I guess I'm sort of hoping no one will answer. Sam's heard me, though, and when he opens the door, his face is grim.
"Come in," he says. There's no warmth in the welcome.
My heart pounds hard in my chest when I see the tongue piercing all alone in the center of the living room coffee table and Donnie with his nose in the corner.
Sam folds his arms across his chest and looks at me. Donnie doesn't turn around, but I'm sure he knows I'm there.
"You lied to me," Sam says.
I swallow. It's one of those exaggerated gulps that always looks impossibly fake until you do it yourself.
"You knew he wasn't allowed to get that piercing," Sam continues. "Yet you took him there anyway. And then you helped him cover it up."
What does he want me to say? Donnie's a grown man. It's not like I can make his decisions for him. I'm not his dom. I'm just his best friend. That's what we do. Best friends aren't the rule police; they're accomplices. I don't say any of this to Sam, though. I just keep my eyes trained on that piercing and shrug.
"I don't like shrugging," Sam says.
I'm tempted to shrug again, but I catch myself in the nick of time. Instead, I clear my throat and apologize.
"Sorry."
My voice is hoarse. It sounds like I've been sleeping--or crying. I haven't, but Donnie has. He's recently done both. I can tell from the visible blush at the nape of his neck and the way his hair sticks up in all directions.
"Is... Is his tongue okay?" I ask sheepishly.
"It'll heal," Sam says, regarding me sternly.
"Good," I mumble.
"As I said earlier, I know I can't punish you. If it were up to me, you'd be one very sorry little boy with one very sore little bottom right now."
I get hard at the words. I hope he doesn't notice, but he probably does. My pajama pants are thin. They don't hide much.
"But I am going to punish Donnie, and I want you to watch."
My eyes widen. I look at him to see if he's serious, and he is. His tone is no less serious when he adds,
"And then I don't want you two seeing each other for a month. Is that clear?"
"A month?" I protest. "Why?"
Sam raises one eyebrow. I guess he's not used to being questioned like that. I drop my gaze back to the table.
"Because that's how long Donnie's grounded," he says. "He won't be going anywhere but to work and home. You can call each other if you want, but that's it. I don't want him at your place and I don't want you here."
The words sting. "I don't want you here" hurts more than I expected it to. I try not to show it, but the look on my face must give me away. Sam's voice softens.
"Hey," he says. "I didn't mean it like that. But when I tell Donnie not to do something, I'm serious about it. I thought you knew that, but apparently you didn't. I think the two of you could use a little time apart."
I nod, but the words are falling out of my mouth even as I do it.
"Can't
you just punish me, too?"
Donnie spins around in the corner to watch us, and Sam doesn't even make him turn back around.
"I... I mean, if you're gonna keep him from seeing me, then you sorta already are. Punishing me, I mean. So why not just do it right... Do me the way you do him. You know."
"Are you asking me to spank you?" Sam says.
Always so blunt.
I feel my face flush. The blush prickles my chest, my neck, and my ears. I know I've gone crimson like I always do when I'm embarrassed. I'm about as embarrassed now as I've ever been.
"Well, I just... A month is... is a long time," I stammer. "I mean, couldn't you just... If I agree, couldn't we... I'm really sorry."
Sam gives me an indulgent smile and I realize I'm hanging on to the seat of my pajama bottoms with both hands. I drop my arms self-consciously to my sides. I don't know what to do with my hands, so I grip my pajama legs instead and twist the material in my fingers.
"Donnie," Sam says without turning to face him.
"Yes, sir?"
Realizing he's been caught, Donnie spins around comically fast to face the corner.
"Do you object?"
"No, sir. No objections."
"Okay, Nate," Sam says. "If you really want me to do this, I will. But first, let me explain the rules to you. I always spank on the bare bottom, and I always make sure it hurts."
"Yes, sir," I whisper.
I haven't called anyone "sir" in years, but it feels right to use it now. If Sam notices how my voice hitches on the word, he doesn't mention it.
"I will take those pajama bottoms down and put you over my knee, and once I've done that, there's no going back. I'll spank you until I think you've had enough. If you put your hand back or try to stop me, you'll regret it. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you have any questions?"
"You really won't ground us? I mean him?" I blurt out.
Sam smiles. I know I sound like a little boy trying to cut a deal. That's exactly how I feel.
"No, I really won't ground you," he says. "A good spanking should be enough."
Bound and Bent: Ten Tales of Serving Him Page 18
