Chapter 7 Teddy #2
My face flames. The word “boy” hits different after last night’s conversation with Skeet. Before I can process it, Kirill brings me over his lap, my stomach pressing against his strong thighs. One large hand rests on the small of my back, holding me in place.
I can feel my cock hardening already and I close my eyes to try and wish it away, but it does no good. If anything, I only get harder.
“This is for your own good,” Kirill murmurs, and then his other hand comes down firmly on my shorts-covered bottom.
The first spank lands with a sharp smack that echoes in the small room.
I gasp, more from surprise than pain. Kirill does not hold back—each swat is deliberate, measured, and surprisingly stingy even through the fabric.
Heat blooms across my cheeks as he continues, alternating sides, his voice steady the whole time.
“You will learn to speak to me with respect, Teddy,” Kirill says. “I make decisions for good reasons. You do not unload on me like a brat in public.”
“Argh. Whatever,” I say, evidently not ready to heed his words.
“As you wish,” Kirill continues. “Shorts and briefs down. We’ll soon see how long that attitude lasts.”
Kirill duly pulls my shorts and briefs down, exposing my cheeks. I feel a rush of humiliation, excitement, and a wild desire to kick my legs and make him work for it.
“You’re a terrible spanker!” I spit, kicking my legs and bouncing and wriggling as I lay across him, my cock now throbbing in a mix of arousal and shame. “Useless!”
“We shall see,” Kirill says, bringing down a crisp double spank on each cheek. “We shall see…”
Soon, I’m squealing in pain and my cheeks are throbbing as Kirill puts me firmly in my place. And by the end, my kicking and wriggling has stopped too. Kirill is in total control and each spank is sending me deeper into a state of total submission.
I squirm over his lap, a mix of embarrassment, sting, and that confusing warmth pooling low in my belly as my stiff dick strains against his rock-hard legs.
“Mmmph,” I spit, my face almost as red as my ass at this point. “Awww.”
The spanking is hard, authoritative, exactly like I imagined last night while giggling with Skeet.
My breath comes in little huffs, and I bite my lip to keep from making too much noise as my dick throbs and pulses. I’m as hard as can be and part of me panics that I might go over the edge and climax there and then.
Luckily, the spanking is just too hard and my body evidently focuses on that rather than the unreal arousal I’m experiencing.
By the time Kirill stops, my bottom feels hot and tender. Alexi helps me up gently, turning me to face him, my neatly trimmed pubic hair on display as I blush and flash my eyes to meet his gaze, my cock semi-hard and bobbing in front of me.
My tormentor’s eyes are dark but not angry—more like a Daddy who has delivered a necessary lesson and is now checking on his boy.
“Better?” Kirill asks, one eyebrow raised.
I nod, cheeks burning, unable to meet his gaze for too long. The irritation is gone, replaced by something fluttery and small. “Yes… Sir,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
A faint, approving smile touches Kirill’s lips. He stands, towering over me again, and brushes a strand of hair from my face.
“Good boy. Now go finish your workout,” Kirill commands. “And don’t worry, I’ll have a word with Bobby.”
He unlocks the door and leaves me standing there, bottom on fire, heart racing, and mind spinning with the realization that the fantasy I confessed to Skeet last night just became very, very real.
I press my hands to my warm cheeks and let out a shaky breath.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
* * *
I finish the rest of my workout on autopilot, my mind nowhere near the weights or the treadmill. Every time I shift or bend, the sting in my bottom reminds me exactly what just happened in that private locker room.
Kirill’s firm hand.
His calm, authoritative voice.
The way he called me a boy who needed correction. My cheeks burn hotter than my backside, and it has nothing to do with the sets I am pushing.
By the time I step outside the gym, the early morning air feels cool against my flushed skin.
I unlock my bike from the rack and swing my leg over the seat, ready to pedal the familiar route back to my apartment.
The second my bottom makes contact with the hard cycle seat, a sharp reminder zings through me.
I hiss and immediately lift myself up, hovering awkwardly above the saddle.
“Ouch… okay, nope,” I mutter under my breath, cheeks flaming even brighter.
My butt is still hot and tender from Kirill’s spanking. Every little bump in the road is going to be torture if I try to sit properly. I try shifting my weight forward onto the pedals, but it only makes the sting sharper.
There is no comfortable position so I end up half-standing on the pedals, wobbling slightly as I start to move.
As much as it stings, the sensation sends a completely different kind of heat rushing through me... I am incredibly aroused.
My mind keeps replaying the scene on loop: the way Kirill pulled me over his lap without hesitation, the measured strength in each swat, the low rumble of his voice telling me I needed to learn respect.
The memory makes my thighs clench around the bike frame and a fresh wave of arousal makes my cock stiffen once more. I just can’t stop thinking about how small and helpless I felt draped over his powerful thighs, and how safe I strangely felt at the same time.
“Oh Jeez,” I mutter, my dick stretching my briefs again as my mind appears unable to focus on anything by Kirill. “Wait, woah!”
My head spins so much that I almost do not see the pile of garbage bags waiting for collection at the edge of the street. At the last second I swerve hard, the front wheel grazing the curb. The bike wobbles dangerously and I let out a startled yelp, heart leaping into my throat.
“No!” I gasp, braking sharply and planting both feet on the ground before I actually crash. My pulse races, partly from the near-miss and mostly from the dizzying mix of embarrassment, lingering sting, and undeniable arousal still flooding my system.
I stand there for a moment on the sidewalk, breathing hard, one hand still gripping the handlebars. Then a big, unstoppable smile spreads across my face. I cannot help it. The whole situation feels absurd and thrilling at the same time…
My bottom is throbbing from a spanking delivered by the most intimidating man I have ever met, I nearly crashed my bike because I was too turned on to focus, and yet… I feel lighter. Giggly and all silly. I feel alive in a way I have not felt in a long time.
Shaking my head at myself, I climb off the bike completely and start pushing it the rest of the way home.
The walk gives my tender backside a much-needed break from the seat, and every step sends a little reminder of Kirill’s hand.
I keep smiling the whole way, cheeks pink, mind replaying his final words and that faint approving look in his eyes when I whispered “Yes, Sir.”
By the time I reach my apartment building, Brando is waiting for a snuggle and my day is about to explode with clients and classes again. But for these few quiet minutes on the sidewalk, I let myself enjoy the secret, buzzing warmth.
Kirill just spanked me in a gym locker room.
And instead of running away screaming, I am smiling like a Little who just discovered something wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
I push my bike into the lobby, still grinning, already wondering what will happen the next time I see him.
Because deep down, I know there will be a next time.
And the biggest part of me just cannot wait.