Oh man. This is a monster of a oneshot. Not because of length, but content. ;) Giftfic for the girlfriend. C:
I'm only gonna warn you once: this is very sexual and contains many different forms of sex. Proceed with caution. Hahaha
Disclaimer: I do not own Kick-Ass or any of the characters. I also make no money writing this.
He knew it was wrong, looking across the dinner table into his father's eyes, knowing later that night, he would be left unsatisfied with thoughts of his father, a bottle of lotion, and a box of Kleenex. He felt dirty imagining his dad's hands slide down his chest, stomach, lower… But he couldn't stop. It was something he craved, something he kept secret from everyone, even Dave.
Dave: his boyfriend, his secret lover, his Kick-Ass. Little did the other boy know that behind every kiss, every fuck, every "I love you," was a thought of Chris' father. Yes, he knew it was despicable, but Christopher D'Amico could not resist the power and strength that his father, Frank D'Amico, possessed.
With these thoughts in his head, Chris lay in his bed, calming his breathing after a particularly rough bout of masturbation. He felt ashamed. No teenage boy should want their father to bend them over the nearest bed, desk, couch, car… anything to ravage and fuck them senseless. But here he was, semen pooling in his pubes, coating his hand, and dripping off his thighs. His ears rang with the silence of the night and the sounds of his mother moaning away. Wait… his mother moaning?
Chris sat up quickly, not caring if his sheets were soaked with semen, and groped around his bedside table for his remote. Unfortunately, he grabbed it with the jizz covered hand, but brushed that though aside for later (or never.) He fumbled with the remote, but managed to turn the TV on and switch to "HDMI1." His father's ass came into view, the muscles clenching tightly every time he pounded into Chris' mother.
Chris blushed deeply, blood already flowing to his cock as he watched the sweat on his father's toned back shine in the dim lamplight, and his father's balls lightly bounce off his mother's ass. His hand traveled down his torso, through his pubes to his cock. Small fingers wrapped around it and he started caressing himself. Suddenly, it was his father touching him, finger-fucking him, fondling his sac. It was his father who stroked his prostate as he rode out his orgasm. But as quick as it started, it ended and it was Chris' hand on his cock; his own fingers coated in lube, freshly pulled out of his ass; his own mess to clean up. Tears sprang to his eyes as he reached for the tissues. He was a wreck, so much so that he didn't see his father's angry face in the camera right before the video feed cut out.
The breakfast table the next morning was unusually quiet. Usually, his father spoke about work, or how much Chris disappointed him. Or his mother would talk about alcohol or scold Chris for something he didn't really care about. But today, the air was thick, and his father stared at him. He was nervous to even breathe under that scrutinizing gaze. His mother drank more than normal (which seemed impossible to Chris.) So, breakfast was eaten in silence until his father cleared his throat.
"Christopher," he said, his voice rattling the boy's bones, "Come see me in my office after you're done." With that, he left the other members of the family to finish up the meal. Needless to say, Chris was nervous. The only time he was called into the office was when he was in trouble. He ate the rest of his eggs slowly, almost painfully slow, before walking down the long hallway to his father's office.
The door was silent when he poked his head in. The blinds were drawn and his father faced away from him in his office chair. He knew he was definitely in trouble.
"Sit, Christopher," his father ordered. The boy did as he was told, his heart leaping into his throat. His father didn't turn around for what felt like forever, and when he did, Chris' stomach dropped. There, in the lap that he desperately wanted to be in, was a teddy bear; the same teddy bear that held the webcam that he'd been watching his father with for weeks now. He bit his lip nervously, glancing from the bear to his father. "Do you know what this is?" his father asked, an eyebrow arching as if challenging his son to lie.
"I-I don't know Dad. Isn't that one of those bears you use to watch your men?" Chris tried to keep his voice level, but it was a tad too high for his liking. A smirk rose on his father's face.
"All of those are in use, and I just so happened to find this one in my room." The smirk twisted into a wicked smile. "Would you know anything about that?" Chris shook his head, not trusting his voice anymore.
"Oh really? I think differently," flowed out of his father's mouth angrily, before he pushed a button on the remote control on his desk. A TV on the wall blared to life, and an image of Chris appeared on the screen, blurred in pause. "Shall we?" The video played. Christopher watched himself in dread. He watched himself stroke his cock and pump his fingers inside of himself as he watched his father fuck. The playback stopped once the video version of Chris came, and the boy looked at his father, who was eerily calm.
"Why, Christopher?" his dad asked, setting the bear on the desk. Chris felt accused under the stare of the plastic, lifeless eyes of the bear. He shrugged.
"It was just a coincidence. I left the bear in there on accident when Mom asked me to get her coat. I accidently hit the remote while I was jerkin' it and you were fucking Mom at the time. No big deal, Dad," Chris said calmly, surprising himself. He looked away from his father, but he felt the man's stare nonetheless.
"Okay, Chris, makes sense. Leave my office," his father said blankly, holding his poker face like a pro. Chris knew this wasn't over, but he obeyed his father's orders.
The rest of the day went by smoothly with no word from his father. Chris spent much of the day in his room, attempting to work out and flexing in front of the mirror. After losing confidence in his "growing" muscles, he sat down to a few hours of good ol' video games.
Just as his character was about to level up after beating a particularly difficult opponent in the Capital Wasteland, one of the maids informed him that dinner was ready. Chris reluctantly saved his game and turned the console off before heading downstairs to the dining room.
Dinner was about the same as breakfast: awkward and quiet, but Chris didn't think much of it. He avoided his father's eyes as much as possible. He still felt them watching him intently. Maybe his father hadn't believed him? Chris thought that the bear wasn't a big deal, but his father was often irrational, blowing small situations out of proportion. The solution was already done. The bear was removed. It's over right?
The boy wasn't convinced that it was over. He'd gotten in trouble before and his father was fine by dinner time. Why was it different this time?
"Christopher." His father pulled the boy out of his thoughts. The boy looked up, unfortunately straight into his father's eyes. There was something there. Was it anger? Christopher couldn't tell. He'd never seen his father like this. "Meet me in my office again, after you're done, please." With that, his father left the room.
Christopher didn't bother finishing his meal this time. His appetite was lost to the pit of worry in his abdomen. After a few minutes of pushing his food around and smashing peas into oblivion, he got up from the table and walked slowly, oh so slowly, to his father's office.
The door was cracked, which was unusual for his father. Privacy was one of the biggest things his father valued. Maybe that's why he was so mad? Reluctantly, the boy pushed the door open, revealing a dark room, the only light above his father's desk shrouded the rest of the room in shadows. The pit in Chris' stomach grew and sank deeper into his body. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and made his way into the room.
"Dad?" he called out, glancing nervously into the dark areas of the room. It was eerily silent. The normal hum of electronics and blowing of the air conditioner were gone, leaving no sound but the footsteps Chris took deeper into the room. Another hard swallow and he stopped. "D-Dad?" Again, no answer. "Well, since you're not here, I'll just come back later…" He slowly started turning around, stopping when the door slammed shut. His heart jumped into his throat and his head snapped toward the sound.
There, in the darkness, was the shadow of his father, one hand on the door, head cocked towards the boy.
"Why don't you take a seat instead?" The shadow said, its voice low and seemingly void of any emotion. Instead of replying, the boy obeyed the command, hurriedly sitting in the chair in front of the desk. He was practically shaking, his body betraying him as he tried to steel himself for his father.
"Do you know why you're here now, Christopher?" His father's voice seemed to echo around the room, and Christopher shook his head. His father didn't seem satisfied with this answer, a scowl on his face as he stepped into the light. "Oh I think you do. Now sit." The look on his father's face was enough to make him do anything the man wanted.
He seated himself in the chair across from his father's at his desk. His father was now behind him, silent, but the boy knew he was drawing closer. He felt the atmosphere shift with every step, and he was quaking in his boots. He knew he was going to be yelled at, or worse: he was going to be beaten.
"Now," this came from right next his ear, "I'm going to ask you again. Do you know why you're here?" Christopher was silent, his breath caught in his throat from the closeness of his father and the terror that filled his body. He shook his head again. A low chuckle came from the man. "Wrong answer."
Suddenly, the chair was spun around and his father's big hands were on his wrists, pinning them to the arms of the chair. His father's face was directly in front of his, closer than it had ever been, and if Christopher wasn't scared to death, he'd be fighting back an erection.
"You know why you're here, and you're going to be punished until you tell me why. I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me," his father hissed, barely loud enough for the boy to hear. The boy gulped and thought about the consequences. On one hand, he could tell his father the truth about the bear and be ridiculed and possibly kicked out of the house. On the other, he could continue the lie, be punished and keeping living here to admire his father from afar.
"I-I really don't know, Dad," he said nervously, making up his mind. A sharp sting spread across his face as his father's hand slapped it. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he lifted his now free hand to his cheek. He held the tears in. His father was a firm believer than men do not cry, and Chris didn't want to make the punishment any worse. Despite his effort to hold them in, a few tears leaked when his father back handed him.
"You sure?" his father said darkly. Christopher nodded. A low growl from his father and Christ was let go. "Stand up." His father's back was turned to him now. Christopher obeyed his order. "Take your clothes off." This order confused the boy.
"W-what?" he said and his father looked over his shoulder, shooting the boy a glare.
"Did I stutter?" his father said darkly. Christopher gulped. His father started walking to the office door.
"But… why?" His father didn't answer until he was at the door.
"Because I said so." With that, he slipped out of the room. Chris was confused. Why would his father make him take off his clothes? He sighed and knew that he was to follow his father's orders, or be in more pain. He reluctantly stripped down to his boxers, sure that his father didn't want him completely naked, and shivered as the AC kicked on. His skin flared with goosebumbs and he rubbed his arms in an attempt to keep them warm.
A few minutes later, the door opened again, and his father waltzed inside, holding a big box. He heard the man snort and chuckle a bit.
"Christopher, when I said take off your clothes, I meant all of them." When he said this, Christopher heard no humor in his voice that the chuckle had indicated. "Now get to it," his father added. The boy looked down at his boxers, the only thing keeping at least part of him warm. His father was behind him again, putting the box on the desk. He slowly slipped the boxers off, quickly moving a hand over his penis and one over his butt, attempting to gain some privacy.
He heard his father sigh and the boy started turning around slowly, but his father told him to stay facing away from him and to put his hands at his sides. The boy obeyed, shivering now from the air. It didn't take long for his father to unpack the box and come around to the front of him. The boy reflexively put his hand over his junk, but moved them away when his father glared at him. He could feel his father's gaze move down his body, and now he tried to hold back the blood that was rushing to his groin. He'd wanted his father to look at him like this for so long. Had he been able to see his father like this, he'd probably cum right then and there.
"Put this on," his father ordered, before thrusting something into his arms and walking to his desk chair. The boy looked at the leather clothing that his father had given him. He recognized the black leather and feathered top from a night watching the bear-cam when his parents were feeling kinky. He struggled to put the outfit on, but managed to finally squeeze it on. Much to his dismay, his father hadn't given him bottoms, so his privates were still exposed to speculating eyes.
"Very good. Now, come over here," his father commanded.
"Dad, is this really-"
"In here, I am not 'Dad,' to you. I am not 'Frank' to you. From now on, you will call me 'sir'. Do you understand?" Christ faltered when he was cut off. "Well?" his father asked.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes sir," Christopher answered quietly.
"Now, get your ass over here," his father said impatiently.
"Yes sir," the boy said as he turned around. When he did, he saw a plethora of sexual toys on the table: vibrators, dildos, butt plugs… everything. He also saw the straps secured to the desk, for his hands and legs to be held down with. He gulped. He knew this was his punishment as soon as he was handed the outfit. But… was this really a punishment? This was something that he wanted…
He stopped gawking at the items on the desk and slowly made his way over to his father. His father patted his leg for Christopher and the boy started to sit down, but his father stopped.
"No, bend over them," he said with a smirk. The boy knew what was coming. He bent down slowly over his father's legs, losing his balance and put all of his weight on the legs when his father pushed him down. "Now Christopher, are you going to confess now?" The boy shook his head, mentally preparing himself for the punishment. A hand came down hard on his left butt cheek and Chris barely managed to hold in his cry of pain. A harder smack came to the same cheek, and this time, he did groan out in pain. His father repeated the process to his right butt cheek, and then he alternated between the both of them until Christopher was fighting the urge to cry. Despite the pain, Chris could feel the blood rushing to his groin.
The smacking continued until the boy's ass was bright red and already bruising.
"Do you know why now?" Frank asked, expecting Chris to give in after the brutal spanking session. To his surprise, his son shook his head quickly. He grimaced. "Get up," he growled out. Christopher obeyed, hissing as he stood up, trying to hide his growing erection. If his father saw it, he didn't pay it any mind. His father stood next to him and pushed Chris down to his knees.
"Ya know, Christopher, spanking you actually made me… kind of excited," he smirked and moved his hands to the button of his pants, but stopped. "Why don't you do this part?"
Christopher looked at him with wide eyes, mumbled a "yes sir," and moved his hands to his father's slacks. His hands were shaking in anticipation. He was about to see the one thing that he'd always wanted in person, right in front of him. He unbuttoned the slacks, before pausing over the zipper just a moment, and then pulled it down too. The pants slid down the slightest bit off of his father's hips, and Chris helped them until they were pooled at his father's feet.
Christopher could clearly see the outline of his father's cock through the boxer briefs that clung to the man's legs. He licked his lips, looking up at his father, silently asking permission to remove his underwear. His father nodded at him. The boy slowly reached up and grasped the waist of the clothing. He pulled the thin fabric down, slowly revealing more skin, pubes, and what he'd been waiting for: his father's cock. He couldn't help but stare when the underwear joined the pants. His mouth was slightly agape, much to his disliking. He wasn't sure if his father would be okay with him enjoying the sight of his manhood. He looked down, trying not to look back.
"It's okay, you can look," Frank said, smiling slightly. Christopher felt his face grow redder and he looked at his father's face. As soon as he did, the man's face turned into a devious grin. "Or, you can taste it," he growled and grasped his son's hair. Christopher cried out, and his father took the opportunity to shove his cock into the open mouth, pushing into the boy's throat, battling with the boy's gag reflex. When he was all the way in, he let go of his son's hair, instead firmly grasping the back of his head, holding him in place. He felt his son relax.
Christopher almost came on the spot. His father was inside him. It might not have been his ass, but his father was inside him. His father was inside him. Despite that, his airway was blocked and he was starting to feel light-headed. He tried to pull away a little bit, but his father's hand prevented that. He looked up at his father, pleading to him with his eyes. The man stared emotionlessly into his eyes. The boy started to panic, pushing on the man's hips, but his father was too strong.
"Stop moving," his father commanded. Christopher did his best to not, but he couldn't last any longer. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, surrounded by warm darkness. Finally, finally, after what felt like eternity, his father released him. Christopher pulled back immediately and gasped in a much needed breath. He panted a few times before his father shoved himself back into his mouth. This time, he didn't stay still. He thrust into the boy's mouth, and Christopher forced himself to relax his throat.
His father was fucking him. The moan Chris let out at the thought unleashed a series of them, every time his father thrust deep into his throat. They were joined by groans from his father. Christopher couldn't take it anymore. He reached down and touched himself. He stroked himself to the time of his father's thrusts, but his arm was soon kicked away and his father glared at him.
"Don't you dare pleasure yourself. You're being punished you little shit," he growled before smacking the side of his son's head. Christopher whimpered as his father grasped the sides of his head and slammed it down on his cock. His father's grunts grew louder and the boy felt his hips quiver under his hands. His father suddenly pulled out and pumped himself in front of Chris' face. Hot jizz flew onto the boy's face, coating almost the entire area. Christopher scooped it off his face and greedily licked it up. He finally got to taste his father's seed. It was better than he ever imagined. He didn't have long before his father gave him his next instruction.
"On the desk. Hand and knees." Christopher quickly followed his orders, climbing up on the desk on his hands and knees. His father roughly shoved him down further, until his face was pressed into the wood. The man took his arms and shackled them down beside him, before moving on to his feet. The boy had a hard time moving from that position… not that he wanted to.
He could feel his father's eyes on him. Everything was out in the open, exposed. He felt so vulnerable. Silence filled the room. To Chris, it was deafening. The sounds that broke the silence were a loud smack and a scream that ripped out of Christopher's throat. There was an unimaginable sting aching from his thighs, and his father appeared in his peripheral vision. In the man's hand was a wooden riding crop. He saw his father bring it up and cried out only slightly quieter when it was brought the back of his thighs. He cried out more and more in pain with each blow, until he was finally sobbing, not even trying to do it quietly. It was then that his father decided to stop.
His father said nothing about his tears and Chris quelled them, willing himself to stop shaking. The pain turned into a burn as he calmed his breathing. His father still said nothing. All Christopher could hear was ringing in his ears. He didn't hear Frank laugh to himself. But he certainly felt the hand that touched his ass cheeks, moving to his crack and down to his sac. He felt the hand fondle his balls, gently rubbing them, before moving to his cock.
Oh gods, his father was touching him. His eyes rolled back as his father's hand pulled on his cock, squeezing occasionally. He tried thrusting into the hand, but a smack to his ass stopped him. The hand didn't stop and he was close. So close. The heat built in his stomach and he whimpered. He was about to cum. His father was about to make him cum. But before he could, he felt a plastic ring slip around his cock and his father stopped. He almost cried from the pressure built inside of him. He knew it wasn't going to be released any time soon.
He heard the smirk in his father's voice as he said, "Can't have you cumming too quickly. After all, this is punishment." He hadn't asked Chris why he was here. Chris knew that he had no more chances to get out of this. And he was so happy. He wouldn't trade this for anything in the whole world.
His father didn't touch him again for a while. Instead, Frank stood in front of him, stroking himself for his son to watch. The boy wanted so much to be able to touch his father again, to pleasure him. He was irritated that he wasn't able to move his arms to touch himself. This sight of his father was what he imagined when he tried to sleep at night. It haunted him. Now, here it was in reality and he couldn't do anything.
His father stroked himself, moving closer to his son over time until he was right in front of his face. He watched his son stick his tongue out desperately, trying to do anything to touch him, taste him. "You're a dirty little slut, aren't you boy?" he said, grinning as his son looked up at him with pleading eyes.
"Yes sir," he said wantonly. His father grinned wider and moved even closer. Christopher was so close. His tongue was so close. His father stopped right before he was able to reach it. The hands pumped his cock faster, bringing the man to orgasm quickly, and he released onto his son's face again. The boy hungrily licked up what he could, and relished in the scent of his father's seed that coated his face.
His father wasted no time leaving his side. He could hear rustling and a cap opening and closing. He was anxious for his father's next course of action. It was silent again. Christopher hated the silence. He wanted action. Action, he got.
His father's slick finger slid into his ass. He wasn't expecting it and he couldn't hold back the groan that ripped from his throat. The finger slid in all the way before it was removed.
"You like that, Christopher?" His father asked teasingly.
"Y-yes sir," the boy whimpered out. The tip of his father's finger returned for a second before it was removed. Next, half the finger entered, but was removed. Then, he felt two fingers enter him, stretching him a little. He adjusted quickly and moaned when the fingers started pumping in and out. His own fingers and even Dave's cock could not compare to how amazing his father's fingers felt.
"So boy, how far do you think you can stretch?" His father asked coyly.
"I don't know…" Christopher managed to say.
"Excuse me?" His father said sternly and started removing his fingers.
"I don't… I don't know, sir!" Christopher yelled out quickly before the fingers were all the way removed.
"That's better," Frank said, continuing his previous ministrations. "I think we should find out," he said before shoving another finger into his son. The boy cried out in pain, but again, got used to it rather quickly, and was reduced to a pile of moaning mush. The third finger was soon removed and replaced by another finger. The boy assumed that his father was now using both hands and a fourth finger was added.
Tears sprung to Christopher's eyes, and his father actually stopped to allow him to adjust. Once the boy was relaxed, his father started pumping again slowly. He soon stopped, pressing his fingers as deep as they could go.
"Ready to stretch?" he asked.
"W-what?" the boy asked back. He was ignored and felt his father pulling his hands apart, opening the boy's ass. He held it open for a few seconds before allowing it to relax. He started again, trying to pull it further each time. Soon Chris loved the feel of his father spreading him, examining him. He heard and felt his father spit into the hole between his fingers and whimpered when they were pulled out.
They were replaced with his father's tongue. Christopher cursed the gods above for the cock ring that adorned his penis. He wanted so badly to cum, but this was not enough to make him to with the ring on. His father was tasting him, slickening him, invading the most private of places with his tongue. He loved it. His father stopped all too soon.
"I've always wondered what that felt like," he said before releasing Christopher's arms. His father bent down in front of him. "Lick," he instructed. The boy did as he was told, grasping the man's hips and burying his face between his father's cheeks. His tongue flicked out and licked the puckered hole hungrily. He heard his father gasp, and he could only guess that the gasp was out of surprise. After all, this was the first time his father had experienced this. He pulled the firm butt cheeks further apart, gaining better access to his father asshole. He cherished this experience. He tasted all of his father, more than he ever thought he would. He shut his eyes and got lost in the licking.
He decided to be brave and pushed his tongue against the hole. It tightened against the intrusion, and he pushed harder. He was able to break through the tight ring. Frank moaned a little, and the boy felt the muscle relax around his tongue. He moved his face back, and forward again, tonguing his father's asshole. He could tell his father was touching himself, and soon, the man tensed, squeezing the boy's tongue, before moving away. He wiped his hand off through Christopher's hair.
"Back to how you were," his father stated and the boy lowered his face onto the now cold desk. His arms were restrained yet again, not that he minded. Again, silence. Christopher was getting tired of this silence that followed every act. It was suffocating. He was growing impatient. Just when he felt like he couldn't take the lack of attention, he felt something against his asshole. It was cold and slippery. Plastic. He felt it push against him, pushing his muscle apart, intruding. The boy groaned at the size of the toy. It was slightly bigger than his father's fingers. It grew bigger the deeper it went, but he was able to adjust surprisingly quickly. The stretching his father had done before really helped. Soon, the toy was deep inside of him.
"You like big things inside of you, son?" his father laughed out. Christopher only nodded. His voice didn't seem to want to work. He was mentally at his wit's end. He just wanted to cum. He could feel his balls turning blue. Not literally, of course. Still, he wanted to get off, but he was at the mercy of his father… and his punishment.
Frank had given him plenty of time to adjust to the toy. He still didn't move it. Christopher knew he was doing this to tease him, holding the toy so far inside of him. He felt pressure release, and the toy started slipping out. The hand was back, holding it in place.
"Hold it there, Christopher," his father commanded and removed his hand. He felt the toy start to slip out again, and he clenched as tight as he possibly could. The toy stopped moving for a moment, but the boy knew he couldn't hold it long. His muscles simply weren't strong enough. He unclenched and felt the toy move again. He clenched for as long as possible, but let go even sooner. The toy slid at least half way out before his father removed it. "Good enough," the man said. Chris sighed in relief.
But there it was again: the silence. This time, Chris broke it with a loud groan.
"What was that for?" His father asked.
"Nothing," the boy said sharply. A smack came to his ass, and he hissed.
"Wrong. I asked you a question. You will answer truthfully, or I'll leave you here by yourself with a vibrator up your ass." Christopher shuddered at the thought.
"I just… I don't like the pause between all of the punishments, sir. It's too stifling, sir," the boy said, relaxing a little.
"Well in that case…" his father trailed off, and Christopher suddenly felt the desk shift slightly as his father climbed onto it. The boy couldn't hold back a loud cry of pleasure as his father slid into him in one swift move. This was it. Everything he'd been waiting for was finally happening. His cock ached painfully, ready to release at any moment. His father had always stopped everything before he was able to finish.
But now, the feeling of his father moving inside him, massaging his walls, fucking him… it was almost too much. He was so close. He didn't want to ruin this moment he'd wanted for so long by ejaculating too early, so he held off for as long as he could. His voice echoed through the huge office, cried of pleasure, turned to screams of ecstasy when his father brushed against his prostate.
His father thrust again and again at just the right angle, and Christopher was practically blabbering like an idiot. The ring felt so tight on his cock and suddenly, the tightness was gone. The heat in his stomach was growing very rapidly now and he couldn't hold back any longer. He tried to grasp at anything he could reach. He ended up scratching his legs, the burning lost in the waves of pleasure that rippled through his being. The heat was too much. He lost it. Streams of semen shot from his cock, relief filling his body. His own jizz ended up hitting his chest and the lower half of his face, but he didn't care.
He was writhing beneath his father, who was still thrusting into him. His father gripped his hips rougher than before, and thrust himself harder and faster than he had before. Feral groans and grunts joined Christopher's moans that echoed in the room. Suddenly, his father stopped, quivering. Chris felt the man's cock pulse inside of him, his seed filling him. For a man that had already cum twice, he still came quite a lot.
The man took a moment to rest before pulling out of his son. He sat back on his feet and caught his breath. Then, he got down and pulled his pants back on, untied his son, and told him to get dressed.
The boy, still in a euphoric state, climbed down from the desk. His hips and knees ached something fierce, his leg was bleeding from the scratches, and cum was leaking out of his abused asshole. He was blissfully happy.
"Get dressed," his father commanded. The boy did as he was told, slowly pulling on his clothing that had been shed what felt like hours before. "Now, can you tell me what you did in order to be punished?"
Christopher thought about it and decided that he still didn't know.
"No sir," the boy said tiredly.
"Well then," his father sat in his desk chair before continuing, "I'll see you in my office again in two nights. You need to recover at least a little. This will continue until you can tell me why you are being punished. Understand?"
The boy tried so hard to hide his glee, but smiled a bit any way.
"Yes sir," he said and limped his way out of his father's office.
There you have it! please review!