Chapter 4. Liam
I think he’ll get fucking pissed at me for calling him Daddy, but his expression actually gets more feral, as if he really likes that.
Fuck, it does something to me as well.
“Okay. You'll get ten with the belt. Bend over the bed.”
I stare at him. For a second, I’m convinced he really is joking. But his face is all serious, and everybody else is acting like this isn't insane as fuck.
"So, just to be clear, you want to… what? Beat me as a punishment for bringing weed into the room?"
He shrugs. “Not exactly beat you. Spank you. And that’s right.” The words are somehow more disorienting the second time. He says that as if there’s any difference at all.
I try to laugh it off. It comes out nervous as fuck. “Spank me? Like, with a belt? Are you fucking for real? What kind of kinky freak show is this?” I ask again.
Ethan sighs, not irritated, just profoundly done with my shit. “If you prefer to go to the hole, let me call Griff.”
“No! Jesus, no, fucking chill for fucking once,” I say, too quickly. I don't know what the hole is exactly, but it doesn't sound good. I can only imagine what solitary confinement is like, and I don’t think I’d survive. I think I’d literally die in the first hour.
He shifts his weight, arms crossed like a dad, and I realize he’s waiting for me to actually say yes, that I want him to do that, like this is enough consent for his conscience, and that my time is running out.
“Hurry up, I don’t have all day."
"But why do you gotta hit me? Just toss the weed or give it back," I say, kind of pathetically desperate. And I notice I’m getting pathetically hard.
"To teach you not to mess with me. You're gonna toe the line, because if you don’t, I get the heat. Haven’t you got that yet?
I'm your leader here. That means I'm responsible for you, and this is how we handle things here. I’m your fucking owner here. You’re mine.
So, I'm gonna teach you not to screw with me, and to think twice, if not out of common sense, then out of fear of pain. "
OWNER? Fucking owner? He has no clue who he’s dealing with. I’m into this shit.
"Is this normal around here?" I ask Jack, expecting him to jump in and defend me, say I shouldn't let Ethan lay a hand on me, or at least help me get out of this.
Instead, he just tucks his arms behind his head and says, "Yeah, everyone gets a leader when they arrive, and it's pretty normal to get trashed by them. It's just how things are here." His tone is way too casual for what he's saying, like this is just part of the weather.
"But do you even have permission to hit me? Spank me, or whatever the hell you call it," I say, clinging to the ridiculous hope that there are still rules somewhere. I thought he was all about following the rules.
Ethan rolls his shoulders, stretching out the tension, and probably preparing to destroy my ass.
"Let’s just say it’s an unwritten rule of the academy," he says, and there's a glint in his eye.
Pleasure. That fucker gets off on this. “No one's gonna care unless you end up in the ER. Or unless you rat, which I would not recommend if you plan to stay alive.”
He makes a point of unbuckling his belt slowly, and now my heart is going one million miles an hour. Fucking shit hell. "You're stalling," he says. "Ten, and then it's over. I can make it twenty if you don't fucking hurry."
I do the mental math on my options, and they all suck. If I refuse, I'm the snitch, the baby, the one who couldn't handle it. If I comply, I give up my last scrap of pride, and in front of an audience.
And some sick part of me doesn’t even want to refuse it.
"And what if I tell Griff you spanked me?" I say, starting to think he is dead serious, that he really is gonna do it.
And the worst, most terrible part is that my fucking cock loves that thought.
"Then, I’ll get it rough, but after that, I’ll make your life hell," he says, casually. "I’ve been patient enough. Last time I ask, are you gonna get in position, or do I need to put you there?"
"Fucking hell, alright then," I say, still thinking this is some sick joke. “Don’t blame me if I actually like this.”
God.
I stand up slowly, feeling like everything is in slow motion, and realize I am slightly shaking. I pull down my sweatpants, just leaving me in my white boxer briefs, part of the uniform. Then he keeps looking, and I realize he wants those down.
"Fucking pervert," I mutter, and pull my briefs down to my knees, exposing my extremely hard dick.
That fucking traitor is leaking already.
I see Jack take a good look at it, raising his eyebrows at me and giving a cheeky grin.
Harry's eyes flick down too, then quickly away, but not quickly enough.
You bet I'm proud of my size, but I can't believe I'm hard during all this. Well, I actually can believe it. Ethan, on the other hand, doesn’t even glance down, and I can’t believe this jerk really just wants to hit me, spank me, or whatever, and that’s it. I bend over the bed.
"Look, I'm not happy about doing this, rookie," Ethan says.
All I can hear is his deep, commanding voice, and fuck, it is a good voice, and I imagine all the guys checking out my pale butt.
Good thing I'm into showing off. "If you'd shown even a hint of remorse about bringing in the weed, I wouldn't need to do this," he continues to lecture.
So, he is actually going to do it all: the beating, the scolding, the whole nine yards.
"But I can't risk you ruining my reputation by thinking you can fuck around," he keeps going, and the first hit comes before I am ready.
I feel the air move a split second before it lands.
CRACK. F-f-f-uuuuuuuuuuck. I don't expect it to hurt this much.
It is like a line of fire zapping to the back of my brain, and I jump up, yelping, and a stupid, horrible, deafening long moan escapes me, my cock throbbing.
What the fuck?!
"Fucking hell," I curse under my breath, my eyes watering.
"If you'd even come up with some excuse, like 'I forgot it was there, I just hid it so the guards wouldn't see, and I was gonna throw it away' or something..."
The second lash lands before I can even unclench my teeth from the first. It’s lower this time, right across where my thigh meets my ass, and the sting is so sharp it knocks the air out of me. I clench my fists in the blanket and bite down on the urge to scream.
I wonder for a second if the staff outside the room can hear this, if they’re listening in. I want to scream just to see if some guard would come running, whether to my rescue, or to trash Ethan instead, or to start watching and enjoy it too.
And the worst part is that I’m actually liking that shit.
I like the pain. I love the humiliation.
I mean, I absolutely hate it, but I also obviously like it.
I don’t want him to stop. I’m pretty confident if I started screaming, he would stop, but I don’t know why, I definitely don’t want him to.
I want to take it. I fucking want to cum just thinking about it.
My cock thinks it’s in a theme park. It’s hard as a fucking rock, twitching and leaking against the scratchy gray sheet.
Maybe I'm a kinky fucker too. Every rational part of me should be repulsed, but I’m not.
I start to dry hump the sheets, my hips moving on their own, grinding against the scratchy fabric with every lash, and the pain makes it so unbearably delicious I have to bite my tongue.
I know the guys can see me doing it. I don't care. I can't stop.
Ethan, though, is all business, which makes it worse.
He doesn't gloat, doesn't crack a smile, acts like this is just a job he has to get done.
But I don't buy it. Nobody swings a belt like that without feeling something.
His breathing is too controlled, too deliberate, like he's keeping himself in check.
He says he's not enjoying this, but his body tells a different story, and I'm too good at reading people to miss it.
It's so annoying. If he's going to do this to me, at least have the decency to admit he likes it.
CRACK. It hurts so bad I can only think about getting up and running away. But my fucking body doesn’t care about logic.
"Hmmmmpffff…"
"If you had just apologized and not acted so cocky with your bad boy vibe, I might have even forgiven you," he says, and another lash hits my ass.
Why am I going to cum at any moment?
That would be so embarrassing it'd kill me. I'd die on the spot.
Ethan keeps going. His voice drops, and that makes my pulse spike.
"This bad boy attitude? Ends now." CRACK.
"I'll spank you as many times as it takes.
Every single time you need it. Every fucking day if I have to.
" CRACK. "I won't let you waste yourself.
Not when you're mine to correct." CRACK.
"You understand me?" CRACK. “This troublemaker attitude is going to get you exactly what you deserve.” CRACK.
I bite the pillow to keep from outright screaming.
I can taste the tears. Everything’s weirdly dissociative, as if I’m watching this happen to someone else.
I hug the pillow tighter, and my arms are trembling almost as much as my legs.
I tell myself that I won’t cry, but who am I fucking kidding?
I am going to cry. There’s no denying it.
I glance over to Jack, but my vision is a blur from the tears.
At least, the guys aren’t laughing. If they were, I’d lose it completely.
Ethan’s breathing is steady, like this is a workout for him, and I realize the only thing I really hear in the whole room is my own gasps and the dry thud of the belt meeting my poor ass.
The next words out of Ethan’s mouth are even worse than the spanking. “Breathe. You’re doing good, rookie,” he says, and my brain stops fucking working.
I just die. I’m dead right there on the spot, bury me.