Sean loses it after five swats. He covers his face but it doesn’t stop the tears. He knows better than this! He’s so ashamed to be getting a spanking after seven months of not getting one. He used to get them every other day, and thought he’d finally proved to his Master he was a good, obedient boy who did not make mistakes. He feels so helpless, like he hasn’t made any progress at all, bent over his Master’s knee. His cock has long been locked up, so he’s frustrated and uncomfortable and everything just sucks. Each strike stings and makes him yowl. Soon he’s just bawling.
All Sean wants is to be a good boy, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is the disappointment on his Master’s face when he came home. Sean had gotten his chores done early, and so he decided to dust the bookcase and his Master’s CD and vinyl collection. It wasn’t something he’d been told to do, but it was noticeably dusty so he decided to do it anyway.
It was an open bookcase and there was a gap between the displayed goods and the wall. In the process of moving things around to dust in the gap, a record slipped out of its sleeve and crashed onto the wooden floor, snapping in half. In the haste to catch it, Sean dropped another and it chipped and cracked.
The first was a rare, limited edition copy highly sought after by collectors. The second Sean had damaged had been one of the records given to his Master by his deceased father. There was nothing Sean could do expect wait until his Master got home and explain his errors in a heavy, sad voice. Fibbing would only lead to worse punishment once it was discovered.
Oh, he knows better! He really does! He’d been given very clear instructions – he was free to clean anything in the house, but never his Master’s personal things without permission. He’s fucked up, and for it, he got the wooden spoon. Sobs wrack Sean’s body each time the implement strikes red flesh and his muscles tremble; his Master spanks him until his hand begins to hurt. He then lowers the spoon and massages the tender muscle with his other hand.
When he spoke, Sean could hear that the seething anger in his voice had dissipated. “I want you to know, boy, I did not enjoy having to do this. To say I am disappointed is an understatement, but it also reflects on myself. I got comfortable and you got sloppy. I do not like hearing you cry, boy, but you know I had to punish you. The records cannot be fixed, but they will be replaced. I’ll talk to Miguel about getting you some labor hours to work off the debt.”
Sean only gasps and hiccups. “I’m so so sorry Sir, I’m so sorry. Thank you Sir for allowing me to work it off. I feel so ugly for having failed you.”
“It is good to work out your weaknesses while still fresh out of training. You’re released, but I have instructions for you. First, go blow your nose, wash your face, and fetch me a clean pair of pants as you leaked all over these. I’m not mad at you for that, I expected it. Then, you’re going to drink a cup of water, then go to your cot with an icepack and think about how you can be a better houseboy. If you ever want to ascend into training to wear my collar, you will think very hard.”
Sean’s throat is tight and he can barely push any more words out. “Y- yes Sir. Exactly as you said Sir.” Sean sniffles, his face the color of a ripe tomato.
“That’s a good boy now.” He helps Sean to his feet, stabilizing him as he blood rushed downwards. In a moment of impulse, he gives Sean a brief hug. Sean returns it instantly and exhales a ragged sigh. “I’ll be better Sir.”
“I know. And that starts now. Go on. You’re dismissed.”
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Text is fictional. Source is the watermark.
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