Spain POV
Though I admit, in my head it's wrong, I can't seem to find it in my right mind to stop.
Just the way he wiggles about, with his face scrunched up and his rapid breathing. There's nothing in this world to make me stop.
Twisting that strange curl in between my fingers, it's that easy. I don't need to touch any more than that, so it isn't really wrong, right?
All it takes is a few minutes of playful tugging before it secretes onto the sheets.
Ejaculation? No, he is still much to young for that. But a boy of 11 who still wets the bed ought to be punished for his mistakes. How else will he learn?
"Roma, wake up. You wet the bed again."
He wakes up almost frantically and flushes red from the embarrassment. Such a darling little boy, trying to hide beneath the soaked sheets in shame.
"N-no I didn't! Jerk bastard!" And so bad at lying, it's almost painful to watch.
But of course only I could find such an attribute endearing. So young. So innocent. Such a temper. And so very mine.
"Roma, you need to learn to not wet the bed. I'm tired of always washing the sheets. Come on, I have to punish you again."
He gives such a cute pout before he crawls out of bed and removes his soaked bloomers slowly.
So teasingly slow, he does this. "Come here."
He walks over to me so hesitantly with a clear look of fear. So cute that face is.
He bends over in front of me, leaning against my lap as I prepare with slightly pity.
"How many times is it this month, Roma?"
"E-eight," he replies shyly. Oh the things he does to me.
I rub the soft skin before raising my hand, watching him flinch before I even move.
I bring my hand down, feeling slight pleasure from the sound that comes from the contact. "Count them out loud, Roma."
"O-one."
I raise my hand and bring it down again, watching his face contort into one of pain.
"T-two."
By the time we get to seven, his bottom is red as well as his face as he chokes back his tears.
I bring it up one last time and come down, a little softer this time. The sound of my hand hitting his smooth, delicate skin is so satisfying.
It's not the slapping sound I crave to hear, but it will do for now.
"E-eight." His red face shows clear pain as I lift him up and sit him on my lap.
"There. there. No tears, Roma. You have to learn," I lecture as I place soft kisses on his forehead.
He only sniffles and nods. "Very good Roma. Now let's clean up the bed and go back to sleep."
He stands, clear discomfort as he changes into another pair of bloomers as I change the sheets. He curls up beside me, holding my hand tightly as he drifts asleep.
His olive colored skin looks amazing from the soft, bleeding moonlight that sneaks through the cracks in my curtain.
Such a darling little boy, and he's all for me.
