Author's note: A longer chapter, and the one I have been really looking forward to. Those of you who read any of my other fics will know exactly why, hehe;)
You know that feeling when nothing, and I mean NOTHING seems to be working out for you? Now multiply it by a hundred and then you might get a glimpse of the frustration that had been squeezing Stiles from every fucking direction.
As if making (yet again) a fool of himself in front of Derek wasn't enough, the whole universe decided to conspire against him. His beloved jeep finally gave up on him. Now. At 1 AM. In the middle of nowhere. He knew that ignoring that engine light will eventually backfire, and it did. And of course his phone was dead as well. And then to top it all off, his wallet was missing. Or rather Stiles knew exactly where it was. On the table right next to the plate with those delicious meatballs. A fitting punishment for running away like a coward.
With no phone, no car, and no wallet his options were rather limited. The most tempting one was to scream in frustration or walk a few blocks back to jump off the Brooklyn bridge. Stiles gave himself two points for dramatism and then toned it down to punching the steering wheel a few times. The next option was to sleep in the car… and freeze to death. Or walk home and freeze to death on the way. It was 'only' 30 blocks or so. Should be there in about an hour. And hopefully, nobody will mug him on the way. Not that there was anything to rob him of. Though maybe his stalker will finally man up and kidnap him properly. At least it would save him the pain of getting home by foot. Another point for dramatism.
Stiles had been walking for 10 minutes or so when the rain started. Because… of course it did. It wouldn't be Stiles if something else wouldn't fuck up to make him even more miserable. Not that it was possible to feel any worse anymore. Stiles just laughed helplessly. He was such a dumbass, really. He had no one else to blame but himself. He knew his car needed service. He knew his phone was dying. He knew he should have taken a jacket. He ignored all that and now he was paying for his own stupidity. Served him right.
What was the point of going to the office, if he didn't manage to do any work anyway? He should have just gone straight home. He hated to admit it, but Derek was right. There was a difference between putting in an extra effort to fix his own fuckup and pushing his body to the limit because of some stupid paperwork that was thrown at him by his opportunistic colleagues. Good job playing the martyr for your own benefit… except there was no benefit and the martyrdom was clearly not his forte.
He was so busy wallowing in self-loathing, that he didn't even notice the car stopping right next to him. A split second of gut-wrenching fear was replaced with an overwhelming relief when he saw Derek behind the wheel.
"Derek, thank God!" Without being prompted, he opened the passenger door and jumped inside the inviting warmth of the car. Whatever ill feelings he harbored towards Derek a few hours ago, right now he was easily his favorite person on Earth.
"What the hell happened? Are you ok?" Derek looked all over him, eyes scanning for any signs of trauma.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Stiles waved his hand nonsensically, "My car just died."
Derek frowned like that explanation didn't make sense to him.
"And my phone died as well, and I lost my wallet," Stiles explained, his voice turning sheepish towards the end.
Derek's worried face turned into one of displeasure as he took Stiles's wallet out of his pocket and handed it to him. "You left it on the table." He put on the heating and directed the fans towards Stiles to warm him up, and while the gesture showed his consideration, his clipped tone gave away his ire. "I called you, but it went straight to the voicemail. I went to your office, but you weren't there, so I figured you must have gone home. Then I saw your jeep and you weren't in it. I thought…" he shook his head, jaw clenched, muscles tensing, "I thought that that asshole got to you. If I wouldn't have found you at home, I would have called the cops."
Stiles should have probably felt bad for worrying Derek this much, but hearing him admit it was actually rather satisfying. "Well, nothing quite as exciting," he said, giving him a tired smile. "I was just really really unlucky."
"You mean really really reckless," Derek snapped, his expression full on disapproval.
"What was I supposed to do?!"
"How about keeping track of your belongings? Or keeping your phone charged and functional? Jesus Stiles, you have a stalker and you prance around alone at night! What were you thinking?!"
"Well, I didn't exactly expect my car to die in the middle of nowhere!"
"Bullshit! You told me the engine light was on like a month ago. So that tells me you still haven't gotten it fixed. That's not you being unlucky, that's you being reckless and irresponsible!"
All that was true. But Stiles was not gonna just sit there and let Derek read him a riot act. "And whose fault do you think this is?!" he snapped back, his own temper flaring.
"Excuse me?"
"You know what? Fuck you, Derek! Fuck you and your high horse! I have been bending over backwards to get you your fucking rooftop pool, but do I get any thanks? Noooo. It would obviously kill you to give any kind of acknowledgment. But when it comes to chewing me out over a bit of miscommunication, God forbid you would hold yourself back!"
Derek was clearly taken aback by Stiles's sudden outburst. "Look, I'm sorry if I was harsh with you over the lobby-"
"If? IF?!"
"Fine, I'm sorry that I was harsh, but you weren't exactly a picture of politeness either."
"Gee, I wonder why! I was summoned like a fucking pizza delivery, without as much as hello, just to be yelled at in front of the very workers that I'm supposed to be managing! I mean, we wouldn't want my job to be too easy, right?!"
Stiles purposely omitted the fact that it ended up working in his favor because that was not the point he was trying to make. He expected Derek to go on the defense, but the Dom just pressed his lips together, letting him rant away.
"What? Nothing to say?" Stiles egged him on. "You were so eloquent before. Had so much on your mind about me being reckless and irresponsible." He spat the words out, hoping to get a rise out of him, and felt even more frustrated when his jab was met with silence.
"You think that after treating me like dirt and then jerking me around you have any right to tell me off for forgetting my wallet? Or for not having my phone charged? Fucking bite me! It's none of your fucking business!" He cast Derek a furious look, waiting for some kind of reaction, but Derek still remained infuriatingly quiet, so Stiles went on. "Just because you keep showing up to catch me at my worst, doesn't give you any right to give me shit for it! You must have developed some kind of a hero complex, but here's the news for you - you're not a fucking hero and I'm not your fucking damsel in distress!"
"Oh you got that right," Derek finally growled back. "You are not a damsel in distress, you are a brat in a fit of temper. But it ends now!"
"Well then stop the fucking car and let me out!"
"No," Derek replied firmly. "You've done enough self-sabotaging for one night. We will be at your place in ten minutes or so. Till then you will shut your mouth and try to get your emotions under control!" Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Derek beat him to it. "That was not a request, Stiles!"
The stern tone coupled with the warning edge finally forced Stiles to shut up. He crossed his arms on the chest and stared out of the window sulkily. It felt good to get it all out of his system, but at the same time, Stiles was not used to losing his temper like this. The sheer amount of f-bombs he spilled in a couple of minutes was probably more than what he normally used in a week. In fact, his behavior dangerously resembled that of Jackson, and any other time he would have been mortified by that comparison. Right now he just didn't have it in him to care.
No one said a word for the rest of the ride. Derek parked the car at Stiles's apartment building and turned off the engine. The tense silence that followed was nothing short of suffocating and yet it lingered for a few endless seconds. Then Derek let out a heavy sigh and finally looked at him. Stiles felt his gaze burning into him but refused to return it, staring intently at his lap.
"You're upset and I understand that I'm at least partially to blame for that, and I'm sorry for my part, I really am. It was never my intention to treat you like 'dirt' or 'jerk you around', as you put it. Frankly, I was just trying to get us back to where we were before that stupid lobby went haywire, but you were so intent on staying mad at me, taking anything I tried as a personal attack..." Derek let out another frustrated puff, running his hand through his hair the way he often did when he was disconcerted. "But being upset is not an excuse for going off the rails the way you did. You can't jeopardize your own safety just because you are having a bad day, Stiles."
He waited for Stiles to say something but now it was Stiles's turn to play mute. When a few seconds passed and Stiles still didn't say anything, Derek unclasped his own seatbelt and opened the door.
That got Stiles out of his silent musings. "What are you doing?" he asked, his breath catching in his throat with unease.
"Let's go."
"Why?"
Derek paused and looked at him. "You are all wound up, angry and frustrated. I'm gonna help you let it go."
"Doing what exactly?" Stiles asked, already knowing the answer.
"You know very well what I'm going to do. You have been asking for it the whole ride. You did something stupid and reckless, and it's eating away at you. You need someone to take you to task and that's what I'm going to do. You might not sit comfortably tomorrow, but you will sleep like a baby tonight."
Stiles' stomach did a somersault. Derek's agenda appealed to him in so many ways, played into all of his masturbation fantasies... But at the same time, the presumptuous attitude that Derek had any right to "take him to task" was grating on him.
"Let's go."
"No."
Derek raised an eyebrow as if he didn't expect any backtalk on the matter. "If you need some extra incentive to do as you are told, I can certainly start already here."
Stiles's temper resurfaced. "Who do you think you are! In case you missed the memo, I'm not your sub, Derek. You have no business telling me what to do nor punishing me! What makes you think I'll ever agree to-"
"Be quiet before you dig yourself deeper," Derek cut him off sharply. "You already have quite a whooping incoming, which I know you will consent to because you have been provoking me the whole way home acting like a total brat. I have spent enough time with you to know what a polite disagreement with you looks like and this was not it. This was you spiraling out of control, begging to be put in place. Well, congratulations - you have been heard loud and clear. Now you have two options. You safeword right now, tell me I misread the situation, then say something about a shitty day and a lack of sleep to give an excuse for your behavior, possibly apologize and thank me for giving you a lift and I'll respect your wishes, leave, and we won't speak of this again."
Even laid out like that Stiles knew he was in no state to go with the first option. Being a rational adult just didn't seem like a possibility right now.
"Or you agree that you acted extremely irresponsibly and you need me to take charge and I will."
You already did, Stiles thought grimly. You always do when I need you to. He bit his lip and rubbed his neck in pretend indecision. As if there was anything to decide really... Stiles knew what he wanted the moment he started pushing Derek, and apparently, Derek was just as aware of it.
"I won't sleep with you," Stiles finally said, setting out some ground rules.
The Dom chuckled. "Of course not, champ. You are in big trouble, there won't be any pleasure for you tonight."
"No, you know what I mean."
"Yes I do," Derek replied, his face getting serious again. "Just discipline… and aftercare."
"Ok."
A shadow of a smile passed Derek's lips before they pressed back into a tight line. "Let's go."
Stiles didn't waste any time getting out of the car. Derek immediately grabbed him by the elbow, firmly leading him to his own apartment. Stiles was actually glad for the physical evidence that he was not in control anymore. It was kinda freeing.
Derek led him straight to the bathroom, acting as if he was at home, with an air of confidence and aplomb. If he was at all nervous, Stiles couldn't tell. Though he certainly was.
"Do you need a shower before we start?"
"I.. yeah."
"You have 5 minutes." Derek turned to leave, but then stopped and went back. He opened several cupboards looking for something and then smirked, taking out a large oval bath brush. It was a notoriously mean implement, the one Stiles purchased with this particular use in mind. He had never been spanked with a bath brush before, except for trying it out a few times on himself, but that wasn't the same of course.
Derek walked out without another word, leaving Stiles with a swarm of butterflies in his belly in anticipation of what's to come.
"Four minutes left," Derek called, spurring him into action.
It was the fastest shower Stiles ever took. Not as much because he was looking forward to having his ass handed to him (ok, maybe a bit), but rather because he wasn't eager to give Derek any more ammunition to add to it. He put on his sleep t-shirt and cotton pajama pants and hurried back to the living room. However, even though he didn't dawdle, the Dom still looked pissed for some reason.
"Why is your window opened?" he froze Stiles with a question, his expression highly unamused.
"Uhm… I forgot to close it, I guess?"
"You are getting extra with my belt for that." Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Derek cut him off, "It's right at the fire escape. Literally anyone could get in. You can't just forget basic security measures, especially now that someone is stalking you!"
Stiles had nothing to say to that. He knew that Derek was right. He bit his bottom lip and dropped his gaze.
"Alright. Let's get on with this," Derek said, sitting down on the bed and beckoning him with his hand.
Stiles marveled at the sight in front of him. A hot guy in a vest from a three-piece suit with his sleeves rolled up, revealing the drool-worthy muscular forearms, was sitting on his bed and patting his thigh in an invitation for upcoming discipline. If they were in the club reenacting this scenario, Stiles wouldn't hesitate a second. But this was different. Not a club. Not a made-up disobedience. Real punishment for real behavior. Stiles's legs refused to obey, feet rooted to the ground, eyes glued to the bath brush lying next to the Dom.
"Come here, champ, it's time for your spanking," Derek prompted him, softening his voice a bit.
The choice of words, while definitely more embarrassing, worked better on calming Stiles's nerves. He slowly approached and stood in front of Derek, unsure what he was supposed to do next. Was he supposed to lay over the edge of the bed? Or Derek's lap? Lower his pajama pants himself? Wait for Derek to do it?
The safest course with most Doms was to simply wait for directions. The fact that Stiles was overthinking it like this, showed just how nervous he really was.
"Normally I don't give warm-ups for punishment, but since I haven't played with you before, you will get one. I'm sure you have a stash of implements somewhere in your closet, but I think this will do nicely for today." Derek patted the bath brush. "Have you used it before?"
"Not really. I mean, I know it hurts," Stiles muttered and then decided to tackle a quiet, "Sir."
"Good." Derek didn't smile, but Stiles could tell the proper title pleased him. "Over my lap."
He guided Stiles over his left knee, resting his body on the bed and leaving his feet on the ground, ready to be scissored in by Derek's legs if needed. Then he pulled Stiles' torso closer to him, keeping his hand there to secure him in place.
Stiles has had his fair share of OTK spankings. It was by far his favorite position, providing the right combination of (dis)comfort, intimacy, and embarrassment.
Down boy. Stiles's cock spurred to life as soon as Derek put him in position. He knew that this was strictly disciplinary, and yet he couldn't help it. The idea simply excited him too much. And Derek's fingers sneaking under the waistband of his pajama pants didn't help it either.
The cool air caressed his backside, as his face heated up with an added humiliation. No matter how many times he had his ass bared for a spanking, it never got any less embarrassing (or any less hot). It was a weird mix of shame and arousal that discipline always inspired in him. The conflicting feeling of "want-not want". Technically, he wasn't supposed to want it, cause the discipline was meant to be a deterrent. But what do you do, when the idea of a punishment itself excited you? And I don't mean just a measured amount of pain that brought on a nice and floaty state of subspace, but a real kill-me-now-make-it-stop pain that wrecked you and left you sobbing and begging for forgiveness. Not that Stiles had much experience with the latter.
Thankfully it was not something he had to explain to Derek. And not just because they have casually discussed it many times in the club, but because Derek liked punishing his subs past the "enjoyment" level just as well, like a true sadist he was.
Stiles knew Derek had to be aware of his erection by now, but the Dom mercifully didn't comment on it. Stiles made it clear that he was not interested in anything sexual (what a lying liar who lies he was) and Derek was respecting that. Though Stiles had no doubt that he won't maintain his erection for long, because Derek had a mean arm and could dole out quite an ass-beating, way beyond Stiles's pain tolerance. He wasn't afraid that Derek would go overboard though. If there was one thing Stiles had no doubt about, it was that Derek was very experienced and knew what he was doing.
Trust was paramount for any type of BDSM relationship, and right now there wasn't a single person out there who Stiles trusted with this more than he did Derek.
The first smack echoed in the quiet of the room. Stiles drew in a breath, relishing the initial burn and the delicious lingering sting it left. Before he could start craving another, there was a second and third and fourth, falling down in a mid-paced rhythm, not too mild and not overly brutal. Just hard enough to remind him that Derek was not fooling around and that this was not going to be a "fun" spanking.
Though Stiles loved it all the same.
Ever since Derek bent him over for a couple of well-placed swats five years ago, Stiles's fascination with spanking only grew. Of course, since then he explored and learned to enjoy various other BDSM practices such as bondage, anal play, edging and could even be persuaded for some mild cbt and nipple torture, but impact play and spanking in particular, remained his absolute favorite.
Stiles never played up his reactions, knowing how fake and annoying it always looked on others, but neither did he make a point of restraining himself. The soft whimpers that started escaping his lips after a minute or so could just as easily have been moans of pleasure. That's not to say that a hand spanking in general couldn't be sufficiently severe to bring him to heel. But that was not the intensity that Derek had chosen. He called it a warm-up and a warm-up it was, and the only thing that could make it more perfect would be if Derek interspersed the spanks with some rubbing and kneading. That way Stiles could literally stay bent over his knee purring in pleasure for hours.
As if reading his thoughts Derek took a pause in slapping and let his hand brush over his warm cheeks, soothing the sting away. "You're enjoying this a bit too much, don't you?" There was no admonishment in his voice, Stiles would even say there was an amused edge to it.
"I can't help it," he replied, smiling into the bedsheets. His nerves calmed down pretty much as soon as Derek started spanking him. It was familiar and therefore comforting. There wasn't much he could do to fuck this up.
"Well, I can." Derek grabbed the bath brush and tapped it against his butt. "The fun part is over."
Stiles braced himself for the impact but was still caught off guard by the intense burn of a thousand bees stinging his flesh. The bath brush far exceeded his expectations and not in a good way. One swat was enough for Stiles to decide that he was most definitely NOT a fan. Before he could properly process his hate for the implement, the brush fell down again, and again, taking his breath away.
"Shit!" he yelped, legs straining from the pain, hands digging into the comforter, but it didn't make Derek slow down. "Ow! Wait, wait, WAIT! Derek, please!" Stiles panted, unable to cope with such a brutal onslaught.
Derek put the brush aside and rubbed the sore spots while his other hand brushed through his hair to calm him down. "What is it?" he asked casually as if they were having a tea party and not an intense spanking session.
Stiles almost laughed. What do you think? It fucking hurts! But he was already subdued enough not to openly mouth off as he did in the car. "It's way worse than I expected."
"Well, you are being punished."
"I know... just… not so hard?"
Derek chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Oh no, champ, it's gonna be hard and it's gonna get worse yet. You have quite a list of misdeeds. Now, why don't you tell me what those are."
Stiles drew a blank. The brush was patting his butt again and as if that on its own wasn't enough to unnerve him, he wasn't sure what exactly Derek wanted to hear. "I.. uh.. fucked up your lobby?"
"Is that a question?"
"No. I was negligent in my responsibilities, Sir." Now that sounded like something he supposed Derek wanted to hear.
"Alright…? And you feel like it's something you should be punished for?"
Shit, this was like pulling teeth. Couldn't Derek just lay it out for him, the way he did in the car? "I guess?"
"Up to me, then. And I say no. Mistakes happen and you already managed to fix yours. And since I apparently don't say it enough, I am quite pleased with your work. I wasn't lying when I spoke to your boss today. You are sharp, capable, and very well organized. You are also very good at predicting and preventing troubles even before they arise. That's something I find particularly valuable as it saves both time and money and not many people I've worked with are as good at it as you are. And now I also know that even if something does go wrong I can rely on you to fix it."
Shit. Derek might have as well chopped some onions, cause his words hit Stiles harder than the bath brush did. Stiles wasn't sure when was the last time he felt so validated. Especially since Derek wasn't known for showering people with praise. Unfortunately, before Stiles could fully enjoy this rare moment of recognition, Derek brought them back to the topic at hand.
"However, there were other less commendable actions you've taken lately that you absolutely deserve to be disciplined for. Let's start with your car."
Ah, right. "I ignored the engine light."
"Yes. And I suppose I don't have to explain to you just how stupid and reckless that was." Derek tapped the brush against his butt, his voice turning stern again. "Frankly you should be happy that leaving you stranded in the middle of the night was all that happened. You could have gotten into a traffic accident. Seriously, Stiles, for all your troubleshooting abilities you seem to have a surprisingly lax approach when it comes to your own safety."
With that, Derek swung the brush hard against his bottom. This time Stiles was better prepared, gritting his teeth to keep himself from crying out. But of course, it didn't stop at a single swat and more of them followed in an uncompromising steady rhythm. It hurt so bad, Stiles had a hard time keeping still and before long he was crawling away from Derek's lap. The Dom only chuckled as he pulled him back, got a firmer grip around his torso, and scissored his legs with his own. Being trapped only added to Stiles's growing misery. He let himself yelp and squirm, but neither helped against the burning inferno that Derek kindled on his poor ass.
Just as Stiles's hand started twitching to cover himself, Derek put the brush aside again and rubbed his sore cheeks. "Alright. What else are you guilty of?"
Stiles didn't want to say anything, because as soon as he gave Derek another reason to keep punishing him, the gentle hand would move away and the bath-brush-out-of-hell would be back.
"Stiles?" Derek prompted him and then when Stiles still remained quiet, he stiffened and his voice got laced with a hint of concern, "Are you alright?"
It was the first time that night that Stiles heard Derek's confidence waver, and he couldn't help but find it endearing. A proof that even such a formidable Dom as Derek could be unsure and worried that he did something wrong. Of course Stiles was experienced enough to communicate or safeword if things were getting too much for him, and Derek knew that. But apparently, Stiles's sudden silence unnerved him enough to check in with him.
"I'm fine," Stiles reassured him quickly, "I just… don't want you to stop petting me yet."
He could practically hear Derek's smile, even though he didn't turn around to see it.
"You are coloring quite nicely," Derek commented, pressing his finger into a particularly sore spot. Stiles had no doubt that there would be more than one bruise adorning his butt by the time Derek was finished with him. "I have to say I really like your bath brush."
"The feeling is not mutual," Stiles deadpanned, making Derek chuckle again.
"No, I dare say it's not. But we are not done yet, champ. And you have stalled long enough. So tell me what's next on your list of transgressions."
"You are the one who keeps claiming I have one so you tell me," Stiles grumbled, his mouth running away with him before his brain fully caught up.
Without another word, Derek grabbed the brush and attacked Stiles's sit spots and thighs.
"Noo! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm Sorry! PLEASE!" Stiles whimpered, his hand shooting back to protect his butt, but not quite reaching his thighs.
"I'm clearly not doing my job well enough if you still find the need to mouth off at me," Derek said calmly, tapping the brush against his thighs.
"No, you do! You do! I just wasn't thinking. Please, no more!"
"Take your hand away and keep it there. I don't want to break your fingers."
Stiles immediately obeyed, knowing that it was a no-no for any type of impact play, and for heavy implements in particular. "Sorry."
Derek didn't acknowledge the apology this time and Stiles felt his displeasure with every bone in his body. He hated it even more than that stupid bath brush. Ok, maybe not more, but at least just as much.
"Well? What else are you being punished for, Stiles? And I suggest you think well before your mouth writes any more checks your butt can't cash."
Stiles grimaced, feeling like he must have heard that quote or some variation of it before, but couldn't remember where, so instead, he focused on giving Derek the answer he was looking for. "I knew my phone was dying and I still didn't take the time to charge it before going to the party."
"Now that is just common sense, Stiles," Derek said admonishingly.
"I know." Frankly, none of this would have happened, if he just had his phone working.
Derek didn't say anything else on the matter and let the brush do the rest of the talking. Stiles tried to take his punishment, he really did, but his butt was already scorched, and each consecutive swat was harder and harder to deal with. Having nowhere to run, his hand shot back again.
"Stiles!"
Stiles quickly pulled his hand back and hid it under his torso, hoping it would help him control it better, but Derek had a different idea.
"Give me your hand."
"Nooo," Stiles whined, clutching it tighter.
"I'm not gonna ask you again."
Tentatively Stiles gave Derek his hand.
"Palm up and keep it open."
Shit. Now Stiles knew exactly what Derek wanted to do. The Dom held him by the wrist and rapped the brush down against his palm. Stiles yelped and jerked his hand, but Derek held it firmly in place.
"One more. Open up."
"Oww!" It wasn't even half as bad as what his ass had taken and yet Stiles felt close to tears as he nursed his punished palm.
"If you can't control it, I can cuff you, or just hold it down for you, but you need to speak up."
Stiles didn't say anything, feeling very sorry for himself and pouting quietly into the bedsheets.
"A verbal answer, please."
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy."
And just like that, two simple words made all the difference. Stiles never craved them as much as some other subs he knew, but they sure worked their magic in moments of distress. It didn't make the dreaded brush hurt any less, but it made the punishment not as unbearable as when it was coupled with Derek's disapproval.
The paddling resumed and the building pain and the overall exhaustion gave way to emotional vulnerability. The tears were getting closer and closer with every punishing swat and Stiles didn't attempt to stop them.
"Pleeeease," he whined as his hand jerked to interfere again but stopped just in time.
"It's alright, give it to me," Derek said gently, obviously seeing Stiles's mounting distress. When Stiles subjected his arm to be pinned on the small of his back, Derek surprised him by holding him by the hand rather than by his wrist. The latter would have asserted Derek's dominance over him, the former was an intimate gesture that said they were together in this. After that, the tears were flowing freely and the swats lost in intensity.
"Alright. What else did you do deserving of punishment?" Derek asked, giving his sore cheeks a good rub.
"I lost my wallet," Stiles said, his voice thick with tears.
Derek rapped the brush down three more times. "What else?"
By now Stiles was fully aware that the 'list' was not about what Derek wanted to hear, but what Stiles wanted to confess, so that he could forgive himself and let it go. He swallowed a few tears and took a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking. "I've been needlessly overworking myself. I should have gone home after the party as you wanted me to."
"That's right, champ, your health always comes first. Especially," *SWAT*, "when you work," *SWAT*, "for such a demanding dick," *SWAT*, "like me." *SWAT*
Oww. Stiles certainly felt those, more tears sprinkling from his eyes.
"Alright, anything else?"
"I didn't take my jacket." Even to his own ears, it sounded ridiculous, but he did regret it and Derek asked so…
Two more halfhearted swats landed. "Anything else?"
Stiles bit his lip. There was one more thing that bothered him but he was reluctant to admit it… "I was rude to you."
That gave Derek a pause.
"You feel bad about that, huh?"
"Yes," Stiles confirmed without hesitation.
Derek put away the brush and started spanking him with his hand again. Not hard by any means, but after the lengthy dose of the bath brush, it didn't take much to reduce Stiles into full-fledged sobbing.
"That's a good boy, let it all out," Derek murmured, his gentle voice contrasting with the continuous pain his hand kept doling out.
"I'm sorry," Stiles sniffled, overwhelmed by all the emotions that were spilling out of him now that he finally gave in.
"It's alright, I'm sure I deserved that."
Stiles shook his head. "Even if you did, I don't lose it like that. That's something Jackson would do," he spat the fellow sub's name with a veil of poorly concealed contempt, as his breath hitched on a sob, "That's not me."
Derek laughed and gave up on spanking him altogether, just rubbing comforting circles on his back as he cried.
It didn't take long for Stiles to regain his composure. He felt spent and exhausted, but also light and oddly satisfied. He didn't remember the last time he had a good cry. Certainly not while lying over somebody's knee. Counter to popular belief it was actually not all that easy to cry over a spanking, no matter how painful it was. And for grown men in particular. In fact, Stiles only knew one sub who easily gave in to tears when punished. The rest of them just teared up here and there.
"Thanks," he said, hoping Derek won't make him elaborate and just take his gratitude as is. He wasn't in the habit of thanking for the punishment, but that was partly because his scenes were never about real transgressions. Even when he was still in college and used a bad grade as an excuse for a Dom to whoop his butt, he didn't really feel like it was needed or warranted. It was hot, so Stiles pretended to be oh so guilty for his bad grade. But this was different. After three nights at work and everything fucking up on him, he was stressed, angry, and frustrated and Derek helped him unwind in a way Stiles always craved.
"Sorry champ, but we are not done yet."
"What?" Stiles looked at him surprised.
"I believe I promised you extra for leaving your window open. And unfortunately for you, I keep my promises." Derek moved Stiles from his lap and got up unbuckling his belt.
Stiles watched the gesture that any other time he would find immensely erotic, but right now only added to his misery. "Nooo," he whined, hiding his face in his hands when he saw Derek double it over.
"Oh my. If you looked any more pitiful, I'd adopt you."
That prompted a burst of reluctant laughter from Stiles. "That's not funny!" he complained sulkily.
"Come on, it is a bit funny," Derek teased, running his hand over Stiles's battered cheeks. "Ten more. Then it's over and you can tell me all about how mean I was to you."
Stiles hmphed into the bedsheets and braced himself for additional punishment, which in his opinion was entirely unnecessary. But he was not gonna make a fuss over a few smacks with that flimsy belt Derek wore… Ouch!
Ok, the belt was not flimsy after all. Stiles powered through all 10 strikes, his eyes watering again by the end, while Derek softened each blow with a quiet encouragement like "Good boy" or "That's it, only X more."
When it was finally over, Derek put away the belt and crouched down to admire his work. "You took that so well," he praised, examining Stiles's butt. "Wanna see the end result?"
"I hate you," Stiles grumbled halfheartedly, but the sentiment only made Derek laugh.
"Come, I wanna see your face when you see the work of art I created on your backside." Derek helped him up and held him when Stiles's legs suddenly turned to noodles. "Easy, champ."
Stiles found that over the course of the evening he grew to like Derek's pet name for him. Before, Derek always used it in a sort of mocking way, but now it had an affectionate undertone in it.
The state of his ass was nothing short of shocking. It was deep crimson with a multitude of purple brush marks that splotched together into two big dark bruises stretching from the fleshiest part of his butt down to his sit spots. Stiles didn't remember his ass ever glowing with this many colors. He never thought he would be able to take such a thrashing either, and he felt kinda proud of himself.
"Holy shit! I'm throwing away that fucking brush."
"Don't you dare, that's my new favorite implement!"
"Sadist."
"Guilty as charged," Derek grinned at him. "Let's go back and I'll rub some soothing cream on that naughty butt of yours."
Despite his exhaustion, Stiles's cock still twitched at those words, while his face colored as it always did when hearing the trigger word. Derek led him back to bed and then went to fetch the necessary aftercare.
Stiles lay on his stomach drooling into the pillow as Derek carefully massaged the Arnica and then a soothing aloe vera cream onto his battered cheeks. Stiles might have moaned a few times. The pleasure was not really sexual in nature, he just loved the aftercare part of a spanking. Maybe even more than the spanking itself, or at least just as much. But even though Derek's skillful fingers felt absolutely wonderful on his sore skin and Stiles would like this part to last forever, his eyes started dropping as the overall exhaustion was finally catching up with him.
"I have to say, I'm quite impressed with the beating you took," Derek noted, as his hands deviated from tending to Stiles's backside to petting his head the way Stiles liked. "I didn't expect you would take this much."
"You act as if you were an innocent bystander in all this," Stiles snorted into the pillow.
Derek chuckled. "Believe it or not, I was playing off of you. If you were to break down on me already during the warm-up, that would have been all you got."
"Great. So the fact that I will never sit down again is all on me."
"That's exactly right, champ."
The last thing Stiles remembered before the sleep took over was Derek's breath tickling his ear as his lips pressed against the top of Stiles's head.
TBC
This was probably the most self-indulgent chapter I have ever written;)) I know that it's not for everyone, but it's 'my thing', and there will be more of the same (or similar) going forward. But of course, there is still a story to tell, so it won't become a spankfest=)