"Okay," I say.
"Donnie, go get the hairbrush," he says.
I look up sharply. For some dumb reason, I hadn't considered the possibility that he might use more than his hand. I've never felt a hairbrush on my bottom, but I've read stories about them. I've heard they hurt. Bad.
Donnie returns with the brush. He hands it to Sam almost reverently, handle-first. I can't take my eyes off it. The back of it consists of a large wooden oval that looks like it was made specifically for spanking. Maybe it was.
"I'll punish Donnie first," Sam says. "So you can see what to expect. If you still want to go through with it after that, you'll put your nose in the corner. Understood?"
I nod, but he clearly wants more, so I add the "Yes, sir," which comes easier now.
"Good boy."
I feel my face go redder.
"Donnie, get ready."
I feel like I shouldn't be watching this, but no way in hell could I turn away. With an embarrassed glance in my direction, Donnie removes the only clothing he's wearing, his thin cotton boxer shorts. They fall to the floor. He picks them up and folds them, placing them over the arm of the couch, and then he stands with his hands clasped behind his back, ready for further instruction.
I've seen Donnie naked before, but it's been a long time. Unlike me, he isn't aroused. I suspect he truly doesn't enjoy the pain of being spanked.
I don't know if I do or not. This will be my first time.
"Come here."
I expected Sam to sit down, either on the couch or in a straight-backed, armless chair. That was what they were always doing in the stories I read online--every spanking household held an endless supply of straight-backed, conveniently armless chairs. Sam just stands in the middle of the room, however, and when Donnie finally makes his way to him, the older man bends him over, secures him around the waist with his left arm, and smacks him squarely on his naked butt with his right palm.
It isn't even the hairbrush yet, but Donnie yelps, and little oohs and ows escape his lips. His feet move. He's running in place. I watch, fascinated, as Sam's hand slaps down again and again. It doesn't take much to turn Donnie's cute little ass pink. I want to see that ass turn red. I want to see how he reacts to the hairbrush. And then, I want to rub his bottom better for him.
"Put your hands on the table, Donnie," Sam says as he stops the spanking. "And look at that tongue ring. I want you to ask yourself if it was really worth it."
Donnie whimpers. When he bends down, his ass points high into the air. Sam picks up the brush, and
CRACK!
I jump. I might even whimper myself. It's so much louder than I expected, and a bright red oval appears almost immediately on Donnie's left cheek. Sam quickly paints a matching one on the right side.
I try to keep count of the swats, but I can't. They come fast and hard, and it's so exciting to watch that the least of my worries is the fact that soon it'll be my ass on display. Donnie is howling now, and even sometimes openly swearing when the brush hits a particularly sensitive spot. I notice he doesn't like it on the tops of his thighs. He bends his knees whenever Sam aims a swat there, but that doesn't stop it from landing. Each firm SMACK, SMACK, SMACK makes contact exactly where Sam wants it to, and there is absolutely nothing Donnie can do about it.
I'm so turned on I'm afraid I might come right here and now. I wish I had finished the job earlier. I feel bad for enjoying my friend's pain, but only a little. After all, he did have it coming.
Sam speaks in a normal tone of voice, as if he weren't smack dab in the middle of beating my best friend's behind.
"I was going to let you get it done, Donnie," he says. "I had planned it as a surprise for your birthday. But now I'm just not sure."
"I'm sorry, Sam!" Donnie wails. "I'm sorry!"
"I know you're sorry, little man," Sam says kindly. "And you know I love you, no matter how disobedient you are."
"I know!"
Donnie is squealing and squirming, and all the while, the spanking continues. Sam's swing doesn't vary much. Each swat is delivered hard and methodically. Donnie's bottom long ago passed cherry red and is now approaching a deep, dark crimson. I wonder if he will bruise. I wonder if it bothers him.
"Ow! Sam!" he squeals after a particularly low smack sears his left thigh.
Donnie can't see what's about to happen, but I bet he can sense it. I bet he's been here before. Sam steps up beside him, extra close, and again secures him around the waist. Donnie moans. He knows what's coming, and he knows it's not going to be pleasant. I expect Sam to hold the hairbrush as high as he can and then slam it down with brutal force, but he doesn't. Instead, he flicks it down smartly, popping Donnie's pert little bottom at random. It's almost all wrist motion, and if Donnie's pleas and howls are any indication, it's painful. Sam can swing the brush quickly this way. He pauses, and I see my friend tense.
"Last ones, Donnie. You ready?"
"No!" he says pitifully.
It's so cute that I laugh. Sam gives me a sharp look.
"You won't think it's so funny here in about five minutes, young man," he scolds.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, red-faced. "I wasn't laughing at him."
"Well, you weren't laughing with me!" Donnie says.
It takes everything I have to maintain a straight face, but I manage it.
"Last ones," Sam repeats. "They're coming, ready or not."
Sam plants five super hard whacks one on top of the other, all on Donnie's right cheek. He gives the left cheek equal treatment. I think my friend has endured his punishment without crying, but when he stands and turns around, I see how wrong I am. Tears stream from his red eyes and roll down his face. He reaches up to swipe at them with the back of one hand. He glances at me and looks away. He's embarrassed. He covers his dick with his hand.
Before I even realize I've done it, I've stripped off all my clothes so that I'm as naked as my best friend. My hard-on has diminished somewhat. I step forward and give Donnie the biggest hug I've ever given anyone in my life. I hold onto him and rub his back and am pleased when he melts into me. Some of his tears drip from his chin onto my shoulder as he continues to sob.
"I'm sorry, Donnie," I say. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble."
"You didn't," he chokes out. "It's my fault. It's always my fault."
He laughs. So do I. I snake my hand down and give his bottom a tentative rub. It's hot--literally hot--to the touch. His skin feels rough and almost leathery. I wonder if mine will, too.
"Hey now," Sam chides, smacking my hand away from Donnie's ass. "None of that. If you're still willing to accept your punishment, Nate, you know what to do."
Reluctantly, I pull away. I know it's Sam's job, but I can't resist the urge to dry his tears. He gives me a weak smile. Sam pulls him away from me and into his own arms. I feel like I'm intruding again. I take the few steps to Donnie's vacated corner and plant my nose in it. I listen as Donnie apologizes profusely to his dom. Sam shushes him, reassuring him that everything is all right. Tells him he's a good boy and that he loves him, that he will always love him. He's so tender with him that it makes me ache. I've never had anyone speak that lovingly to me.
"All right, Nate," Sam says.
I turn to face him and find I can't. I focus on my toes, which I wiggle just to have something to do. From the corner of my eye, I see Donnie grin at me. He's enjoying my discomfort.
So am I.
I reach in front of me to cover my growing erection, but Sam tsks at me for it and I take my hand away.
"Donnie, stand in the corner, please," Sam directs, "but you may watch."
"Yes, sir!" he says.
I move to bend forward over the coffee table, eager to get my boner out of sight, but Sam stops me.
"I'm going to do something different with you," he says.
That makes me nervous. And even more aroused.
"Have you ever been spanked before?" he asks.
"No," I mumble.
"Never?" he
says. "Not even when you were a kid?"
"No, sir," I say.
"Interesting."
I blush. He's studying my throbbing cock like he's never seen one before. I long to cover myself, but I don't dare.
"Every boy needs to experience a sound over-the-knee spanking at least once in his life," Sam says. "Don't you think?"
Yes. Oh God, yes.
"I guess so," I mumble. "If that's what you want, I mean."
"It is indeed what I want," he says, taking me by the hand and leading me to the couch.
It's not an armless, straight-backed chair, but it'll do.
Sam sits down on the middle cushion. He pulls me to his side. I stand awkwardly by, keenly aware of how close my penis is to his face. He doesn't seem to mind, though. He doesn't seem to even notice. I guess his thoughts are focused elsewhere.
"Over my knee," he says.
My cock throbs at the words. I lean forward, uncertain exactly how to accomplish this feat. My legs are long and trail out behind me as I fall gently forward. Sam guides me along, placing me exactly where he wants me. My cock dangles between his thighs. I rest my torso on the cushion. I have a great view of Donnie, who's standing in the corner gleefully ogling me, all traces of his own distress long vanished.
He's hard now, too, and he's not even attempting to hide it. I bury my face in my folded arms.
"You were a naughty boy, weren't you, Nate?" Sam asks.
"Yes, sir," I murmur into the couch.
"Tell me what you did wrong."
I had expected a hard spanking right away, not an interrogation. I can't seem to think straight.
"I... um... I..."
I don't find the words quickly enough to suit him, and Sam's palm slaps down crisply on the under curve of my right cheek. I yelp. Donnie laughs, but he doesn't get scolded for it.
"I helped Donnie do something he wasn't supposed to," I say emphatically.
Sam's hand slaps me again, harder, on the left cheek this time.
"Ow!"
"Try again, young man," he says. "And without the attitude this time."
"I helped Donnie do something he wasn't supposed to," I quickly repeat, leaving off the sarcastic emphasis this time. "I knew you told him not to get his tongue pierced, but I took him to get it done anyway."
"And did you know he would get in trouble?" Sam asks.
"Yes."
"So why did you help him disobey me?" Sam asks, rubbing my bottom with an agonizing softness that puts me on edge. "Hmm?"
"I... Maybe I don't exactly hate it when he gets in trouble," I admit.
I glance up to see if Donnie is angered by this confession, but he's only looking at me thoughtfully as both of his hands absently tend to his punished bottom.
"You don't?" Sam murmurs. He's still rubbing me, and I can tell he's enjoying it. "And why is that?"
"I... I think it's kind of hot," I say. "I mean, I guess."
"Is it?"
Sam pats me on the bottom, his hand bouncing off my cheeks again and again with teasing gentleness.
Screw this. I'm going for broke.
"I'm a spanko," I say. "I like to be spanked."
"Is that so?" he says. "I thought you said you'd never been spanked?"
"I... Well, I mean... I guess I mean I think I would like to be spanked," I amend stupidly.
"Ah," Sam says, still laying on those maddeningly light taps. "And here I thought I was spanking you for punishment. If you like it, I'm not sure I should do it. Perhaps the grounding should stand..."
He's teasing me. It's working. I'm desperate, and I'm willing to say anything to get him to punish me properly.
"No, sir," I say. "I need it. I want you to spank me. Please spank me!"
In the corner, Donnie laughs again, but we both ignore him.
"I don't know..." Sam says, adding the occasional hard swat to the steady rise and fall his hand is smacking onto my bottom.
"Please spank my bottom!" I beg desperately. "I was... I am a bad boy. I lied to you, and I smarted off to you, and I helped Donnie cover up his... his disobedience. I deserve a spanking."
"You do," Sam agrees. "And a hard one at that."
"Yes, sir," I say quickly. "Please."
He takes his hand away, and I moan. I arch my back and thrust my hips out, inviting his hand to meet my ass. My stiff cock brushes against his denim-covered thigh in the process. Sam feels it and readjusts me so that it again rests between his knees.
"This will be a punishment," he says sternly. "If at any point you feel in danger of coming, you let me know, and I'll put a stop to it."
Those words alone threaten to send me over the edge. I suspect he knows it too, the sadistic bastard.
"Tell me one more time what you need," he says softly.
"I need a spanking," I say. "Please spank me, Sam."
I'm afraid he'll demand further convincing, but I needn't have worried. His palm strikes fast and hot, and before long I am yelping and squirming in earnest. Each time my legs scissor kick and a foot comes off the floor, Sam spanks my thighs until I am once again where he wants me. I can't believe how much it burns. His hand must have been perfectly contoured to fit my bottom. Again and again he brings it down, smacking into me the delicious fiery sting that I've always dreamed about. I hope he'll never, ever stop.
And then he does.
And he picks up the hairbrush.
I groan.
"Forgot about this, didn't you?" He chuckles, stroking my tender flesh with the cool wooden implement. "Well, I don't imagine it'll be quite so easy to forget about once you've been properly introduced."
I'm on edge, wound so tightly that the first tap of the brush makes me cry out. I laugh nervously; he was only taking aim.
"Relax," Sam murmurs, giving my bottom a vigorous, affectionate rub with his hand.
Easy for him to say.
He takes his hand away, and again I tense. This time, I have reason to squeal. The hairbrush smacks down with a sharp ferocity that bites into my flesh. The swat is loud and the sting so fierce and concentrated that I don't know how I'll possibly be able to take another. But I do. And another, and another. The wooden brush has no give as Sam relentlessly smacks my naked butt. I twist and writhe, but it doesn't ease the wicked, steady burn. He grips me tightly around the waist and spanks me over and over on the sensitive areas where leg meets thigh.
I think I'm going to cry.
I try to fight off the tears. I literally begged for this, and I don't want to spoil that by acting like the world's biggest wimp. Sure, Donnie cried, too, but at least he lasted a long time before he did it.
Sam is saying something. I should listen. It might be more questions. I have to really focus to understand the words.
"...be a good boy?" he says.
"Yes!" I whine. "I'll be a good boy!"
The spanking stops, and that's when he really has my attention. I can sense his arm poised high in the air. He isn't finished. I know he isn't finished. I'm anxiously awaiting the next hard lick.
"Don't you ever lie to me again, young man," he says.
His quiet, gentle voice is enough to send electricity through my entire body. When the brush strikes my right sit spot, I see how much Sam has been holding back. It burns. Oh, God, does it burn. I howl. Tears well up in my eyes and immediately spill over. I can't hold them back. I feel another tremendous swat, this time on my left cheek, and then it's over.
Sam is petting me. All I can do is lie across his knee and cry. I can't move and I can't think. There is nothing else in the world but his warm hand soothing my punished bottom.
Then there is. Then there's the smack.
"Ow!" I yell, my head jerking up quickly. "Donnie!"
He smirks at me and raises his hand again.
"Don't. Asshole," I grumble, sliding backwards off of Sam's lap.
I wince as my bottom makes contact with the floor. Donnie reaches down to help me up, and the next thing I know, I'm crying all over him, too. H
e wipes my tears away with his thumbs.
"Let me see," he says.
I look at Sam, who appears to be watching us carefully.
"It's all right," he says.
I spin around so Donnie can get a good look at my butt. I try to look, too. He smacks me again, more gently this time. It tingles, but it doesn't really hurt. I know I will have a deep muscle soreness in the morning, but I'm surprised at how fast the surface sting has disappeared. If I have any doubt that I've been thoroughly spanked, the throb I feel in my cheeks with each heartbeat erases it.
"Donnie, bring me the trash can," Sam says as he gets to his feet.
Donnie groans.
I glance down at the tongue ring. I'd completely forgotten the reason behind my first spanking.
"Here," Donnie grumbles when he returns with the small wastebasket from the guest room.
"Thank you," Sam says curtly. He takes the wastebasket from him and holds it out.
Donnie reluctantly tosses his prized tongue ring into the trash. He doesn't look particularly happy about it, but he knows better than to complain.
"It's late," Sam says, looking to me.
"Oh. Yes, sir," I say, fumbling around with my pajama bottoms, which I've somehow managed to get twisted around my ankles. "I'm going."
"No..." he says slowly. "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
Donnie flashes me a huge smile.
"He can sleep with me," he says.
The idea startles me at first. I find though that being worn out has... well, worn me out, and I am very sleepy.
"I'll get him a toothbrush!" Donnie says excitedly.
He rushes from the room, still naked, leaving me with Sam. I'm no longer hard, but I'm embarrassed. I drag my pajamas up and over my legs and tighten the drawstring.
"You took that very well," he says.
I blush and brush off the compliment.
"I mean it," he says, patting me on the shoulder. "Next time, though, I won't be taking it so easy on you."
"Next time?" I ask, my eyes wide.
He just smiles. So do I.
Donnie eventually returns with my toothbrush. He slips his boxers back on, hopping dramatically as the material touches his sore bottom. I roll my eyes.
"Faker," I say.
"Nuh uh!" he protests.
Bound and Bent: Ten Tales of Serving Him Page 19
