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Like a Gift	By : Larrkin2 Category: +S to Z > Samurai Champloo Views: 3161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Like a Gift
- 1
Disclaimer: No copyright
infringement is intended. I don't own these characters nor am I
making any money writing this story.

This story can be considered an AU
to laurbryannan's Homecoming arc, taking place after Homecoming 4.
It is a sequal to 'A Special Gift of Attention.'

Like
a Gift

by Larrkin

It began after the
birthday spanking I gave him. Mugen responded to that in ways that I
know shocked him. Fuu and I had enjoyed the whole thing as well, so
it had been a surprising affair for all three of us, Fuu as a fervent
spectator, me as an enthusiastic administrator and Mugen as a most
unwilling-turned-eager recipient. We had been shocked by the
intensity of the passion it kindled, especially Mugen, who fell into
a submissive role during his spanking that, as he later put it, ‘blew
me away!’

Yes, oh, yes. I, too,
had been most heartily blown away. And Fuu became as thrilled as she
always does when life hands her something new and unexpected to play
with. When we finally wore ourselves out, she had been the first to
voice her approval of the entire matter.

“That was
fun!” she had said, a damp heap of satisfied femininity,
sluggish and stretched out on the sheets. “Can we do that
again sometime, Jin?”

“Do what?”
Mugen had managed to mutter, his voice thick and slurring with
contentment. “We did lots of different fun stuff. What
exactly d’ya want to do again?”

“Have wild sex
after Jin spanks you,” she boldly responded. I winced.
This little one completely loses her discretion when bathed in
afterglow.

“Oh, right!”
Mugen exclaimed with a predictable burst of indignation “Yeah,
great! Let’s just do that. Only this time YOU get to go over
his fuckin’ knee and have your ass walloped until it’s on
fire!”

Fuu squeaked, then
giggled, saying, “Noooo, no,no,noooo! Watching you kicking
and gasping and squirming over Jin’s knee, and your ‘pretty
little bottom’ getting redder and redder as he spanks you and
spanks you – that’s what made the sex afterwards
especially fun!”

“Fuu,” I
interjected in a governing tone. “Enough.” Too
late, I feared. Mugen was already ignited.

“Oh,
izzat so? Well, I think --”

Yes, indeed, too late.
They were off and running, smacking each other back and forth
verbally with whom should go over my knee and who should get to feel
the effects of my spanking and why the other one was the finest and
most logical candidate. I listened, fascinated by the power of what
I had done to Mugen. That relatively simple act, undertaken in fun,
had hurled the three of us into an unexpected sensual frenzy and was
now the topic of a much-heated argument. I agreed with Fuu. We must
do that again!

And that was when it
began. I started noticing something curious in Mugen’s
glances, a silent invitation of sorts, usually issued after some
spectacular and needlessly stupid display of dangerous misbehavior, a
challenge for me to do something. I swear he began to silently
bellow: “Well? Come on, what’ya gonna do about it,
huh? Spank me?”

I swear I was not
mistaken. I was not seeing something that wasn’t there. I
questioned myself, though. I dismissed the notion again and again.
This was, after all, Mugen. But then I would see that antagonistic
glance fired my way once more and once more I would sense that need
within him to rile me up.

I wondered if he knew
what he was asking for. Mugen was easily tempted and he often
reached for something before considering what it might be like to
truly have that something. This was a perfect example. I had given
Mugen a birthday spanking, a playful spanking, although I had,
admittedly, indulged us both with a little added thrill by making my
spanks count. I had wanted him to feel sore the next day – a
little reminder stamped on his insolent ass – Jin was here. A
little satisfying feel of attention paid.

If my suspicions were
correct, though, if Mugen was craving another spanking and seeking it
with his misbehavior, I had to wonder if he knew what he was
inviting. A disciplinary spanking would be an entirely different
experience than his playful birthday spanking had been. His birthday
spanking stung, and Mugen’s eyes had been glassy when I hauled
him up from my lap, but if I ever administered a disciplinary
spanking he would not be able to hold back his tears. I would expect
to see them. I would demand them. He would shed them despite any
defiance and despite his best efforts to remain untouched.

For a disciplinary
spanking was undertaken with entirely different intent. It was not
the least bit playful. It was meant to make a sincere point, to
answer a sincere need. If Mugen decided that he needed that, I would
provide it without hesitation. But it would bring him to a level of
submissiveness that I doubted he had ever known. Would he seek such
a thing from me? I had to wonder. It seemed unlikely.

In the end, all I had
to go by was my own instincts. That was all I ever had to go by.
The times when I had faltered most seriously were the times when I
failed to listen to those instincts – the silent whispers of my
heart. Mugen himself had confirmed the value of those silent
whispers once, confessing his raw feelings to me in his vulnerable
post-lovemaking moments:

“You know
me,” he had murmured. “Dunno how you do that.
You know shit about me before I do.”

I had smiled and run my
tongue around the rim of his ear, whispering, “I speak
fluent Mugen. Do you object?”

“Nnnnooooo
. . . I . . . well, I mean, it kinda . . . mmmmm . . . it-it kinda
pisses me off sometimes, but the rest of the time I really . . . I
kinda, well . . . like it.”

As did I, for even now
Mugen was something of a mystery. He was predictable in many ways
and yet he could shock me with some odd twist of behavior I never saw
coming, such as these furtive, deep glances and his new dangerous
conduct.

That additional danger
was the dark side of Mugen’s new behavior. The three of us
already walked a hazardous path. It was pure folly to court
unnecessary peril. Even so, Mugen had ever been a catalyst for
danger, his explosive nature attracting more attention than I
preferred. Of late, however, his actions had become increasingly
reckless. Several times I had been forced to intercede in some patch
of trouble he had stirred up, usually over some ridiculous matter
directly involving Mugen’s undiplomatic personality.

When we were first
together, growing accustomed to one another, Mugen used to round on
me when I would step in and assist him. I knew him to be more than
capable, as he had proven when pitted against me, but some inner
imperative made me step forth and offer aid even when it was not
needed. So I had learned to back off and let him fight his own
battles . . . most of the time. The rest of the time I stepped in.

Now, however, he seemed
to be flaunting his recklessness, daring me to, first of all,
intercede, and secondly, deal with his mischief in a disciplinary
manner. Perhaps his judgement was failing or his arrogance
expanding. It was hard to imagine the first and sadly easy to
imagine the second.

But now, considering
this lunacy started immediately following his birthday spanking,
there appeared to be a third variable – a new and unexpected
one that seemed too impossible to be true. But I was not so arrogant
as to assume that I understood all the workings of Mugen’s
quite changeable nature.

So I had started
keeping a more watchful eye, and I had stayed alert to every silent
whisper of my heart, seeking an answer. I waited and I studied him
and I pondered what I knew of life and what I knew of Mugen –
that is, what I knew of him thus far. Over and over I kept coming up
with the same answer – the one I thought impossible, the one he
seemed so anxious to earn for himself. And just when I began to
think that the impossible was not so impossible after all, Mugen
helped decide the matter for me with one great flamboyant shove.
Typical of him.

I had seen my ferocious
partner fight and win battles with several attackers at one time.
The two of us had been the only ones left standing after many
encounters in which we were sorely outnumbered. But I had never,
ever seen Mugen, drunk, standing alone in a tavern of men, blustering
and swaggering and spouting his special brand of vulgar boorishness
upon them all. And few spouted vulgar boorishness as insultingly as
did my Mugen.

Fortunately, he had
chosen his venue well. This tavern was the closest to our home, in
the business district we frequented, so folks knew us there. A
friend, Suri, witnessing Mugen’s actions, came running to fetch
me, bringing me racing to where Mugen was seriously attempting to
commit suicide by mouthiness.

Had it been any other
crowd of men, or any other tavern, he likely would have achieved his
goal. Fortunately, again, he had chosen to discharge his insolence
over a crowd who were a bit older and less excitable and who
recognized an irresponsible youth deep in his cups. Their tolerance
made more sense when I noticed Soong-san sitting at a table in the
back with his cronies, all of them clearly fascinated by Mugen’s
antics. Glancing around, I quickly recognized many others in Soong’s
posse, including his elite personal bodyguard. They were holding
Mugen off, trying to reason with him, when I arrived.

Soong-san’s
largest and most intimidating protector nodded at me and asked Suri,
“This is the partner you spoke of?” Suri nodded, and the
man turned to me with a frown of exasperation. “Soong-san
charged us to keep him from attracting the wrong kind of attention
before you arrived. He’s had a few too many. Take the boy
home before he ends up getting hurt.”

Mugen, of course,
erupted.

By the time the dust in
the tavern cleared several breathless men were rising from wherever
they had landed, each now sporting new cuts and bruises. One man
spat out a tooth. Others were panting and rubbing the places where
Mugen had connected all of them shooting ferocious looks our way.

Soong-san looked
splendidly entertained. He lifted his glass in salute and I nodded
back and picked up my now unconscious partner. Mugen was no doubt
too drunk to realize that I was the one who eventually knocked him
senseless, and I doubted he would even recall that little fact later,
not that I cared. I was too furious with him to feel guilty about
landing the blow that took him out.

Fuu had already been
asleep when Suri came running to find me, and she was sleeping still
when I brought ‘the boy’ home slung over my shoulder.
She slept soundly through almost anything. I dumped Mugen on the
sheets, covered him and stretched out beside him, trying to subdue my
fury. It was a long night.

In the morning Fuu
merely sighed and rolled her eyes at the familiar sight of Mugen
sleeping off another one. He did not rouse while we breakfasted and
readied ourselves for work. Fuu kissed my cheek and allowed that she
was glad she wasn’t going to be around when he came to, then
she scooted out. I followed soon after.

Soong-ojiisan is wise
and clever and observant. We had been working for only half an hour
before he stopped his narrative and asked what was troubling me. I
did not bother with pretense. I told him what had happened the night
before, and when he kept gazing at me expectantly I found myself
telling him everything else, from the birthday spanking to Mugen’s
subsequent few weeks of escalating bizarre behavior to my suspicions
about what he might be seeking from me. I felt my face warming when
I reached the end of my tale and confessed my conclusions, though it
seemed fairly obvious – Mugen was trying to get me to spank him
again.

“But that cannot
be,” I said quietly, shaking my head. “That simply
cannot be possible.”

“Why not?”

I shot him a look.
Ojiisan watched me, rapt and intense. “Why can it not be
possible that this is what Mugen seeks from you?”

“It is most
unlike him. He . . . .” And yet, as I sat struggling to
explain why this could not be I realized that anything was possible
when it came to Mugen.

“He is testing
you of course. Why are you hesitating to answer him?”

A shiver slid up my
spine, that inner whisper saying, ‘Yes, why?’ But
I continued to study this wise old man, suddenly feeling rather
stupid and completely without a response.

Casting me a long gaze,
Soong-ojiisan said, “I once knew one like your Mugen. He and I
were close as I sense the two of you are close. You and I are both
men of the world, Jin, with a particular level of sophistication.
You know the closeness of which I speak. This took place in my
youthful days, when I was a soldier. My partner and I were in the
same regiment. Of course, I did not choose to mention our
relationship in my memoirs. This part of my past is a private
memory.

“My beloved began
to conduct himself as your Mugen is now. He became wild and
needlessly combative, dangerously careless. It seemed that he was
seeking from me what I think we both sense Mugen is seeking from you.
He clearly wanted my attention, and he was asking to be shown that
attention in a certain manner.”

Ojiisan paused and
gazed off for a moment, going somewhere else, seeing another time,
another place and a certain person. I waited silently, then he
continued in a faraway tone: “I believe there was within him a
profound hunger, a desire to be shown his worth so that he would know
that I cared about his well-being, even unto the point of
disciplining him for reckless misbehavior. But, like you, I could
scarce believe that this was indeed what he wanted. He was an adult.
We were lovers, equals. How could he want such a thing from me? It
simply could not be possible.”

I heard my words echo
in his. And again he went silent. I sat quietly, hesitating to ask
my next burning question, but eager to know. Finally I said, “So
did you . . . did you discipline him in this manner?”

A shadow of sorrow
passed over his eyes. “I never got the chance to do so. I
hesitated, as you are hesitating now. He was killed in a tavern
fight.”

My heart lurched. A
hot blast shot through me and my stomach clenched and I felt my face
drain of color. “Oh,” I finally managed to murmur. “I
am sorry, Ojiisan.”

“Do not be sorry,
Jin,” he told me, a deep, lingering hurt filling his gaze.
“Learn. Do not make my mistake. If you do, you could spend a
lifetime as I have done, carrying a painful shard of regret deep
within you. I was uncertain, as you are now, and I was too late. I
could do nothing to change the past. But you . . . .” He
studied me intensely, a sheen of tears glistening in his eyes.
“Trust your instincts, young one. Go home. Now. And do for
Mugen what you long to do. You and I both know that he longs for it
as well.”

I made it home fast.
I actually ran the last few blocks, suddenly desperate to see him
safe there on our bed, tangled in the sheets. And there he was,
sleeping and rumpled and smelly with drink and sweat and dirt and the
scent of a very messy Mugen. I stood for a moment, just drinking in
the sight of him, reassuring myself as to his presence. He looked
endearingly helpless, so little boy-like when sleeping that it was
hard to imagine the dreadful brat he could be when awake.

I gazed at my brat,
ojiisan’s tale flowing over me once more, the plaintive tone of
his voice, the obvious pain in his soul, the sorrow he still carried
in eyes even all these years later. One thought haunted me, killing
any last shred of doubt: I could have lost Mugen last night. If
that crowd of men been hostile . . . if he had chosen to play out his
tantrum in some other tavern . . . a tavern too far away for me to
reach in time . . . .

I yanked the sheets
from him and barked, “Wake up!”

He jerked and snuffled
and reached for the sheets again. “Uuuuuh.”

“Time to rise,
Mugen,” I ordered.

“Fuggoff.”

Summoning patience, I
quieted my fury, which would serve us both ill, and I reached down
and yanked my foul-smelling partner from the futon and stood him
before me.

Immediately he squared
off, struggling and sputtering more insulting slurs. But Mugen was
well off his game. He was clearly suffering from a painful head and
a roiling stomach and he had little reserves with which to fight me.
Good. Fine. Just the way I wanted him.

“Look at me,
Mugen,” I said in a stern tone, and when he predictably tried
to struggle anew I gave him a shake that made him pale and appear
immediately sick. I dragged him outside to let him empty his
stomach. Little demon tried to keep me in his aim, but he was too
sluggish and I was too fast. I did, however, give him something for
his efforts.

I spun him around and
swatted his backside so powerfully he froze, seconds from vomiting,
and turned a suddenly alert stare upon me. “Do not dare sully
me with the leavings of last night’s tantrum, little boy,”
I said; then I forced him over and let him have at it.

Oh, he understood me.
A sudden spark lit up his glassy eyes as I bent him over, and within
that glance I found my answer. My doubts fled.

I would never question
what Mugen wanted or needed from me, once I had discovered what that
want or need was. There was no ‘rightness’ or
‘wrongness’ to a person’s deepest most secretive
desires. There was only the need, and there was, hopefully, an
answer to that need. I had every intention of seeing Mugen’s
need fully answered, now and for as many times as he desired. Ah,
bless that silent whisper of my heart! And blessed ojiisan!

Mugen’s struggles
all but ceased as I put him through the next half-hour of necessary
deeds. I dressed him and marched him to the bathhouse, for I would
deal with him no further until he was clean. Luckily the bath house
was nearly empty at mid-morning, so he could get away with his
childish sulkiness sans interested onlookers and I could seriously
threaten to come in the water and bathe him myself did he not do a
proper job, making the threat as many times as he needed me to, and
that was often.

I found his behavior
riveting. He backed down time and time again, each time confirming
my decision. He did, however, for lack of a better word, ‘fuss.’
Understandable. He would not be Mugen without putting up some kind
of fight, even a half-hearted one. I withstood his petulance to a
certain degree, but when he would became more difficult than I chose
to endure I would grab his upper arms or place my hand under his jaw
and force him to look at me, telling him to, “Stop that at
once.” And he would do so. His eyes filled with momentary
rebellion, but it was outvoted by an underlying raw hunger that was
almost embarrassing to look at.

His
level of trust astonished me. It was plain to me that Mugen indeed
wanted this badly. And it was just as plain that he had no idea what
was going on inside him. He frequently shot me a look that said, ‘I
hope you know what you’re doing, Jin, because I’m totally
lost.’

But it was all right
that he was lost, for I was not. For the first time since all this
began I was no longer questioning myself or the silent whisper of my
heart. So when Mugen gave me that bewildered look, I answered him
with my own silent reply, ‘I know exactly what I am doing,
little boy. I am not lost. I know the way home.’

*********

I was going nuts. For
weeks I’d been going slowly nuts. Ever since that fucking
birthday spanking my world had been spinning in confusing circles.
And it really sucked.

Seemed like I was
pissed a lot and I didn’t know why. But I was spoiling for a
fight at every turn. My gang of Mugen wannabes watching me warily,
like at any second I was gonna turn on them and lop off a head just
for kicks or something. I noticed and I didn’t give a fuck
what they thought, ‘cept it was kinda fun scaring the shit outa
them with nothin’ but my mood.

Lucky for me I was a
popular mercenary by now. I took every job I smelled out that
involved a lotta loud messy violence. I had a knack for loud and
messy. Suited my purpose, so I did whatever was needed and I did it
damned well. Still, this pain-in-the-ass fire burned inside me. I
couldn’t shake it or get away from it or beat it into
submission and I sure as hell it couldn’t figure out what the
fuck was going on.

And I kept remembering
what that spanking was like. I remembered every detail and feeling .
. . Jin’s hard thighs under my belly, his arm over my lower
back, his hand curled ‘round my hip, hugging me close to him,
and that big palm of his spanking me again and again and again. And
I remembered my hot burning ass and how hard I got, and I’d get
hard all over again just thinking about Jin swatting me over and over
and . . . .

I was going fucking
nuts.

Jin, meanwhile, kept
watching me like I was something crawling on the floor that needed to
be squished. I felt his eyes on me when he thought I wasn’t
looking. But, hell, he had to know by now that I was always aware of
where his eyes were, ‘specially when they were on me. I
wondered what the fuck he was staring at, but damned if I’d
give him the satisfaction of knowing that I cared. And I sure as
hell wasn’t about to tell him what the problem was.

Like I knew? Even if
I’d wanted to tell Jin what was going on, I couldn’t.
Maybe if he got a clue about what was up with Mugen he’d be big
enough to share it with me.

Meanwhile I just kept
watching myself being a total asshole. At the prison they’d
labeled me as having ‘hostile tendencies,’ which I always
thought was cool, but lately it was like a cork had popped and all
this moody stuff came rushing out.

Then the really bad
stuff started. I started getting that eerie, panicky feeling I get
when I’m scared about losing something or someone. I hate that
fucking feeling! It’s why I never liked getting attached to
anything or anyone for too long, before Jin, that is. Sooner or
later they’re gonna be history and I don’t want to lose a
piece of my heart the way I do when that happens.

So that eerie panic
started haunting me, and, fuck, then I was reeeally on edge. That’s
the worst feeling – like something has you by the balls and it
might start squeezing any second. When it’s happened in the
past I do whatever I have to get away from it. Usually I’ve
pushed and pushed and pushed until something gives and I force the
loss and I’m free again. Makes all the difference if I’m
the one forcing that loss. It becomes my doing then, my choice. I
control it. So pushing and pushing usually worked.

But this time . . .
this time Jin was the loss, and losing Jin . . . I couldn’t
even think about it.

So whatever was eating
at me just kept eating at me and I went on feeling restless and mad.
My twosome suffered, Fuu getting more and more snippy with me and
steering clear and Jin hiding inside that cool warrior’s
tolerance I’ve never been able to breech. Pissed me off he
could go there and leave me out here all growling and lost. Made me
want to either kick his ass or fuck him into next week, anything to
drag him out into the open.

That was the worse
thing, of course, because my inner war even crept into bed with us.
Fuu was easy. She reached a place of such built up piss-offedness
with me that she stopped wanting to fool around. Fine. Let her play
with herself. Or let her snuggly up with Jin after I left for the
night. I knew they were doing that. No skin off my nose.

Because Jin and me, we
still fucked. ‘Course we fucked. But we just fucked. It was
a function, and it served its purpose. We both got off. No biggie.
Actually, it was totally horrible in a way I couldn’t begin to
describe, cold and empty and horrible. We both knew it, but since
fixing it meant I’d have to start talking, and since I couldn’t
seem to do that, it just kept bein’ what it was and what it was
sucked.

So my eerie panic grew
and my mood got worse.

Finally a few nights
back, Fuu – shy, sweet, well-bred little kitten she is –
looks at me when I was being my usual snarly self over dinner, and
she hurls her spoon down and says in her shy, sweet, well-bred
kitten-ish purr, “Just what the bloody fucking hell is going
on with you, Mugen?! You’ve been a fucking pain in the fucking
ass for fucking ever now!”

Jin’s eyebrows
rose and he turned a slow look on her steaming self. “Fuu-chan,”
he murmurs with pure Jin calmness, “such vulgar language is
unnecessary.”

“I don’t
fucking care!” she squawked on. “I’m
fucking tired of his fucking grumpiness! Aren’t you? It’s
going on all the fucking time! And I’ve had enough of it!”

This was great. I
watched with interest.

“I understand
your frustration,” Jin replied, totally dignified. “But
such profanity will not alter Mugen’s attitude. And I find it
objectionable. So please govern your tongue, little miss. Your
mouth is much too pretty to house such obscenity.”

Of course she quieted.
‘Little miss’ even flashed him a shy, cutesy grin. Oh,
for the luvva - yeah, yeah, yeah. Totally Jin tactics. Then he
shoots me this scowl that sent a chill through me. I nearly threw my
bowl of soup at him. He saw me thinking it over and, of course, he
saw me grab my bowl.

So he gave his head
this slight shake. “No,” he said that whispery
voice of his that sent shivers through me. “Do not dare.”

Ohhh, ho, hooo how I
longed to dare! Just why the fuck I didn’t dare I have no
idea. Instead I jumped up and stormed out, slamming the door on my
way. And when I returned yesterday morning, a few hours before dawn,
and collapsed beside him, exhausted and filthy from a rough night,
something I knew Jin would hate, he pulled me close and spooned up
behind me anyway. I swear, I got teary, damn him.

When I got up later,
something finally snapped. Fuu and Jin were at work and I found some
food set out, and there, at my place round the table, was this pretty
red flower, one of the ones from Fuu’s little garden out back.
Shit, I dunno what happened, but seeing that flower waiting there for
me when I’d been such a prick for weeks now, I dunno, my tether
just fucking snapped.

I stormed out and
blasted over to the closest tavern, the one in our nearby merchant
district, and I began to drink. And I drank and I drank and I drank
and I drank some more and soon stuff began to a blur real nicely.
Time started doing that weird shifting thing off and on . . . a
familiar face drifted in now and then, coming and going, in and out .
. . and I kept drinking. Soon early evening shadows drifted through
the open door and the light went all hazy. ‘Dusk’ Fuu
called it. And Jin, ‘course he had a prettier name for it:

“Twilight. The
time when the veil between the worlds trembles and benevolent spirits
slip through to guide our paths into the night.”

He was full of pretty
bullshit like that.

A few of my compadres
came looking for me after dark, not that I cared, but it led to more
drinking and soon we had a lil’ contest going – who knew
the most vulgar, bawdy songs? I was winning nicely when, for some
reason, our singing stirred up a few objections from the other
patrons. Perfect. Time to kick some ass just for the fun of it!

But a few really big
guys, acting like total daddies, decided to step in and tell me to
behave myself and that I’d had enough and I should call it a
night, all stuff you tell an obnoxious drunk, which I was – no
question. But I still wasn’t about to be daddied by these
guys. I decided to show them who they were dealing with.

Things really became a
blur then. But I remember standing there insulting the daddies,
their ancestors and basically everything and anything about them,
finishing up by inviting all comers – I’d take everyone
on!

Suddenly Jin was in the
doorway, watching me. Holy shit but the man was fucking beautiful!
He was also fucking furious in that cold Jin way. And then –
and this I remember perfectly – the biggest daddy said,
“Soong-san charged us to keep him from attracting the wrong
kind of attention before you arrived. He’s had a few too many.
Take the boy home before he ends up getting hurt.”

The boy? Well,
what else could I do? I launched myself at biggest daddy and then a
terrific fight took place. It was great until some bastard managed
to sneak up on me and knock me out.

Next thing I knew I was
being ordered awake by a pushy, stern and totally bossy Jin. It was
mid-morning; I was home; my head pounded; my stomach rolled and I
wanted to die. I therefore politely declined Jin’s invitation
to rise.

Yanking a person from
his bed when he obviously has the mother of all hangovers is harsh,
but shaking him is just plain evil. Jin did both, then he hauled me
outside to let me puke, and when I went for some payback by trying to
paint him with the contents of my stomach he turned me around and
swatted me so hard I swear my ass saw stars.

Ohmyfuckinggod. I
almost forgot to hurl. Almost. I swear I would’ve gotten hard
if I wasn’t so busy puking.

Jin then put me through
the waking-up routine from Hell. He dragged me to the bathhouse,
spewing more bossiness, then marched my newly clean self home and sat
me down in front of a bowl full of some blechy-looking morning gruel.
“Eat that, little boy,” he’d said to my
defiant frown.

‘Little boy?’
What the fuck was this ‘little boy’ stuff? And what the
fuck was with the rest of his authoritative crap? I went back and
forth between getting really turned on and really pissed. Some of
both won out, but the really turned on part bothered me. Meanwhile,
Jin’s bossiness kept hitting new heights:

“No,
you shall not throw it at me.” “ Stop glaring at it.
Eat it.” “I am going to count to three --”

“God
dammit! Don’t you dare fucking count!”

“Eat
it.”

“It
looks blechy.”

“One.”

“Jin!”

“Two.
Thr – good. Very good.”

“Not
good. It’s gross.”

“Eat it.”

I think I was too blown
away to do anything but what he told me to. Not only was I going
along with it, but . . . well, I was even kinda, kinda okay
with it. Prolly my weakened state softening my brain. But this
pushy, stern and totally bossy Jin was hot. God I wished I could
deny that! But I, kinda, kinda liked his pushiness. At least
I thought I liked it. I wasn’t sure. I either wanted to fuck
his brains out or punch his teeth in.

I couldn’t figure
anything out, so I just switched over to instinct and floated. He
was right, of course, bastard. Eating his swill actually made my
touchy belly feel much better. Trust the son of a bitch to know his
stuff.

To be honest, I was
feeling better and more like my old self and more, well . . . okay
than I had in weeks, ever since that birthday spanking screwed with
my head. Damned if I’d ever let him do that to me again!

Come to think of it,
though, all morning he’d been talking the way he had when he
was spanking me, using that same ‘little boy speak’ that
slithered under my skin and made me squirm, but felt really good in
some warm and gushy way that made me wanna gag. In fact . . . it
suddenly hit me that hearing him talk like that had helped calm me,
making me feel better than I had in weeks . . . .

Aw, shit no. No, no,
noooo! Nope. No, goddammit! I wasn’t buying it.

Tough shit, though,
because I knew in the deepest part of me, that part where lying to
myself wasn’t an option, that it was true all right. Hell,
yeah it was true. I craved those words and what he was saying. I
liked it. I fucking liked it.

No. No, I fucking
hated it! I had to hate it! But . . . nononooo . . . I-I liked it.
I did.

So now my stomach was
full and I felt clean and better and my head wasn’t pounding
anymore, thanks to the bitter concoction he’d forced down my
throat after I’d puked my guts up. I sat waiting to see what
Jin had planned next. He looked relaxed. That should have been a
warning. But I really didn’t see it coming.

He lunged, dragged me
to the futon, tossed me over his lap and locked me down so tightly
there was no breaking free. Took him, I swear, seconds. I was
dizzy, he moved so fast. So now I was turned over his left knee, his
right leg clamped over my thighs, my ass at the perfect tipped-up
position and my chest resting on the bedding, my face in the sheets,
just like before, with one big difference.

This time Jin stretched
out over my back, pinning me, one arm pressing my shoulders down and
his other big hand holding my wrists at the small of my back so
tightly it hurt. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! Totally new set of
rules here! I’d stayed over Jin’s knee during my
birthday spanking because I wanted to. It had been my choice. My
consent. This time –

I tried to struggle.
No movement. Pissed, I used all my strength, trying to buck him off,
wriggle free. I couldn’t move. Not one bit. Couldn’t
kick, couldn’t move, nuthin’! Shit, shit, shit! My
stomach tightened.

“Jin! Lemme up
you sonnofabitch!”

Like I expected him to
say, ‘Oh, right, Mugen, sorry. My mistake,’ and
let me up? He didn’t. Instead he said exactly nothin’
and his silence was hugely loud and had a menacing feel to it. I
felt myself breathing heavy, scared breathing, attack-mode breathing.

But . . . but, no . . .
no. Calm down, Mugen. This was Jin, my Jin. I wasn’t
scared of my Jin. I was feeling pretty fuckin’ scared about
what he was about to do, though. Because this wasn’t gonna be
no fun lil’ birthday spanking. Jin was making that real clear
before he even started. So I was suddenly, seriously fuckin’
scared for my vulnerable ass, which he had somehow managed to strip
bare while locking me down. The cool air on my backside made my skin
prickle and flinch and I felt so damn naked and exposed, just like
before. But, shit! This wasn’t just like before! Oh god ,oh
god, oh god! I heard myself babbling:

“C’mon,
Jin, lemme up, okay? I get it. I fucked up. I was stupid. You
want me to say I’m sorry? Okay, okay, I’m sorry! All
right?”

“Such sincerity,
Mugen. I am overwhelmed.”

“Right, okay,
well, well look, I really am sorry. I was an asshole, okay? I was.
I admit it. Okay, Jin?”

“Yes.”

“So lemme up.
We’ll talk about it.”

“No. We’ll
talk, yes, but you shall stay right where you are.”

I panicked and jerked
and bucked some more, tried to that is. Couldn’t move a
muscle. I gasped into the sheets. Don’t panic, Mugen! Don’t,
don’t don’t. And, of course, I did.

“Gerrof me you
bastard!”

Silence. I called him
a string of filthy names. More blaring Jin silence. So I lay there,
huffing, wondering what to do now. I felt totally helpless. Jin’s
warm weight covered me, pressing down on my back, his hair tickled my
neck, and his breathing, steady and calm and quiet warmed my skin.
Kinda nice, despite my position . . . .

But, what the fuck?
Why wasn’t he spanking me? Not that I was exactly eager to
feel what that was gonna feel like, but at least it would’ve
moved things along. Waiting like this was a bitch. Was he just
gonna hold me down like this? What the hell was he doing? Couldn’t
hurt to ask.

“Jin, what the
hell are you doing?”

The man actually
chuckled! “I should think my intent would be fairly obvious.”

“Y-You’re
gonna . . . .” I swallowed hard. “You’re gonna sp
--”

“Oh, yes. I am
indeed going to spank you, little boy.”

I growled, tried to
squirm again, failed again and felt a flash of panic again. “Y-You
can’t!”

“‘Can’t’?”

“You can’t
just do that!”

“It seems I am.”

“Whyyyyyyy?”
Uh-oh. Stupid, Mugen. Dumb, dumb question.

“Why?”

It was that icy Jin
tone that sends shivers up my spine, and I was in a very bad position
to be feeling that. “I-I mean, I know why . . . I mean I think
I know why --”

“You think
you know why?”

“Okay, okay! I
sorta do know why.”

“Sor --”

“You’re mad
at me for what happened in the tavern!” I hurried on, eager to
halt his parroting of every incredibly wrong thing coming out of my
mouth.

“No.”

What? I sensed a trap.
“Sure you are.”

“No.”

I thought about this.
Nope. Made no sense. “You’re not mad at me because of
the tavern?”

“I am not angry
with you at all, Mugen.”

Okay, now he was just
jerking me around, the son of a bitch. I got mad! I tried
again to buck, failed, then growled and spat out, “You are,
too, you motherfucking liar!” I yelled, hoping to stir him up.

He just sighed and said
in a scolding tone, “It would be wise of you to consider your
position before using such foul language. Now settle down.”

“Oh,
right! Settle down. Sure. Why not?” I sneered. “Like
I can settle down when you’ve got me pinned like this?”

“It does present
a challenge. But you had best try. I plan to keep you where you are
until you stop fussing.”

Fussing. Where did he
get this bunch of kid words? Shit but they made me squirm. I let go
a growling-snarling sound and again tried to wrench around and again
couldn’t. It was stupid of me to keep trying. I knew that.
But I had try, and every time I did I came smack up against my
helplessness. It didn’t help none, him talking that ‘little
boy speak’ at me. I decided to answer him in a grown-up
manner:

“I don’t
wanna settle down!”

“Then we shall be
here for a long time.”

This was familiar
territory for us – a battle of wills. Fine. He wouldn’t
win.

So we waited and waited
and waited and waited. Finally, hours later . . . it had to be hours
later . . . he said, “Mugen, aren’t you curious as to why
I’m not spanking you?”

“’Course!”
I shot back, steaming by now. “But I already asked you --”

“No, you did not.
You asked me what I was doing.”

Oh. Hmm. “Okay,
so why aren’t you spanking me yet?” And shit, did that
ever sound idiotic coming outa my mouth!

“I cannot spank
you until you settle down, truly settle down, not just in word, but
in deed.”

“Well, well.
What a vicious circle,” I snapped. “Sounds like we have
a standoff, partner. What else is new?”

He sniffed a little
chuckle, “You certainly are insolent, given your position.”

“Yeah, well. I
never know what’s good for me.”

“Well spoken.”
I could just see him nod. “Mugen, you gave your
consent for your birthday spanking, remember? I need your consent
now as well, little boy, and not just a passing consent in order to
get the deed over and done with. I require your full and
wholehearted consent.”

I listened, drop-jawed.
“You mean I’m supposed to – to ask for it?”

“No. I don’t
expect that of you. But you need to agree.”

I couldn’t
believe this! “Anything else, sir? I mean, should I go down
on my knees and beg you to – OW!” He’d shot up
swatted my ass hard, then clamped down on me again before I taken my
next breath. Sneaky bastard.

“Don’t you
see, Mugen?” he said in a quiet voice. “You must grant
your consent. I cannot force this upon you. And I wouldn’t
want to.”

He was right. If he
wasn’t holding me down, I’d be able to break free. He’d
never be able to hold me securely and spank me at the same time.
‘Course he needed my consent.

Shit! Shit! Shit!
This was so fucked! I didn’t want to have to ask for a
spanking. The idea of having to ask – no way! I wanted to be
forced! I didn’t want to have to agree to this. I didn’t
want this to be my decision. I wanted Jin to hold me down and make
me take a spanking!

“Mugen.”

Okay. That was it.
Now I really had gone nuts. What the hell was I thinking? I wanted
him to force me? Like I was a little kid who couldn’t get
away? That’s what I wanted?

“Mugen.”

Yep, that was what I
wanted. I wanted Jin to force me . . . . Oh god. That couldn’t
be. That just couldn’t be. I couldn’t want that! What
kind of sicko was I? I just lay there, huffing, hating this whole
thing, hating that I had to be the one who – “OW!”

“Mugen.”

He’d done it
again! Another attack wallop, sneaky bastard. “What?!”
I bellowed.

“I am waiting.”

“Oh, ‘scuse
me for keeping you, sir. But this isn’t all that easy --”

“Yes it is. It
is very simple, little one.”

“Don’t call
me thaaaaaat!”

“Shhh, settle
down. Your decision is, indeed, quite simple,” he went on.
“You either agree to this, or you do not.”

Simple. Right. I
blinked and gasped. I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t
want to be here. And I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Shhh, there,
there,” he purred on. “Mugen, hush now. Don’t be
afraid. You do not need to know anything or understand anything.
All you have to do is consent. And if you cannot do that, I shall
release you, and you can go and do as you will.”

Release me? My throat
went tight and sore. I felt something hot and burning behind my
eyes. Fuck, those were tears! But, oh god, oh god. I couldn’t
help it. Release me? Last time I’d felt this shitty emptiness
was right before my birthday spanking when he’d offered the
same thing – he’d let me go if I really didn’t want
to let him to spank me. It stung bad then, but it hurt worse hearing
him say it now. Didn’t he . . . care?

I suddenly went all
cold and lonely inside. I remembered the feeling. It was how I
always felt before linking up with Jin and that cute little bitch of
a female. I hadn’t felt this for a long time, but it was a
feeling you never forgot. I think I was pretty close to hurling that
swill he made me eat.

And suddenly I-I couldn’t
stop shaking. I buried my hot face in the sheets, trying to breathe,
trying to calm down. Scared. I was fucking scared. And of course I
knew how to answer him. There was only one answer. Some things were
worse than a sore ass and a little loss of dignity. A whole lot
worse.

“Jin,” I
muttered, my throat so tight it hurt, “please don’t . . .
don’t release me.” It was all I could croak.

“Shhhh,” he
whispered into my ear. “No, little boy, I shall not. You
answered me very well. Perfectly. And I hear you. I speak fluent
Mugen, remember? And I am proud of you.”

A huge wave of relief
hit me so fast I heard myself gulp back what sounded like a whimper.
He kissed my ear and sat up and started moving me around. He let my
wrists go and he lifted my legs up over his lap so I was stretched
out flat, then he pulled me closer, dragging my clothes off below the
waist, and all the while he kept murmuring these little ‘shhh’-
like sounds that slithered under my skin right alongside that little
boy speak. It should’ve made me cringe. But, damn how I was
lovin’ it! “Hush now.” “No more fussing.”
“Leave this to me.” “It’s no longer in your
hands.” “No more worries, little boy.” “I
am proud of you.”

How could just hearing
Jin say he was proud of me melt me into a puddle? I was even getting
used to him calling me ‘little boy,’ though it fucked
with my dignity. I had a feeling my dignity was about to take a
helluva blow anyway. I was still kinda scared, but this was totally
different than it had been two seconds earlier. I was scared for my
ass now. I had the feeling Jin was about to spank the shit outa me.

But that ‘getting
spanked scared’ wasn’t nothin’ compared to the
scared of being turned from his lap, set loose, alone. That was the
most horrible scared there could be. Instead, Jin was turning me
inside out again with his words, calling me ‘good boy’
and making me think I’d seriously popped my cork for loving
that so. And he was preparing me, giving my ass a few little pats
like he was getting it ready to be walloped, I suppose. My stomach
fluttered, and I couldn’t help tensing all over. Shit, shit,
shit! Another Jin spanking!

But that was okay. It
really was okay. Bring it on. And it didn’t even matter
anymore that I had no fucking idea what the hell was making me act
like such an asshole. It seemed damned plain that Jin understood it
all just fine. And he was sure gonna explain stuff to me, all over
my ‘pretty little bottom.’

I braced myself. I
felt him raise his hand. I squeezed the sheets into my fists. And
then Jin’s first swat fell.

Holy shit! OW! I
didn’t yell it. I almost did. I wanted to. I even thought
that maybe I’d let that ‘ow’ slip. I didn’t,
though. Score one for Mugen.

But then Jin’s
next spank fell, and the next, and the next and the next. Each one
stung like hell and then another just like it would fall, and another
and another. My ass heated up fast and started to burn, each spank
falling on an already fiery spot. And before long there were no
non-fiery spots! I must’ve been out of my mind sayin’
yes to this!

This was bad. This was
very, very bad! Jin kept spanking and spanking, silently swatting,
and I lay there, gasping into the sheets, a million thoughts zinging
through my head – it couldn’t hurt this much. It
couldn’t! Was I such a softie that I couldn’t take a
little spanking? Maybe since I had a small ass, not much there, not
a nice, pillowy little bubble butt like Fu – ow ow oww!

Okay, don’t
panic, Mugen, don’t panic, don’t, do not panic! Don’t
think about it! Think about something else . . . uhhh . . . wonder
what kind of day Fuu was having. Wonder what was for supper. Wonder
what this spanking fiend was doing home in the middle of the day.
Wonder –

“Mugen,”
the spanking fiend said, all casual and easy-like. “Your first
lesson in spanking decorum: Wandering off in your thoughts is not
permitted. Your attention is required at all times, here, with me.
When I sense you are trying to escape by thinking yourself elsewhere,
as you are now, we shall have a little talk. We have much ground to
cover, little one. And your pretty bottom is becoming and red and
warm, perfect for a nice civil conversation. Your behavior has been
exemplary thus far, but I fear that will not last much longer, so
this is a fine time to begin addressing our issues. And I am proud
of you. Good boy.”

Fucking fiend.

***********

Mugen really did have a
lot of stamina, and I was indeed quite proud of him. We had gone
over several key points of good spanking decorum when he finally lost
all control, cursed me out and threw his hand back, palm up over his
bottom in a desperate attempt to stop the next spank from descending.

“STOPPIT!”
he wailed.

I did, just long enough
to grab his wrist and secure it at the small of his back before
continuing. He didn’t challenge me further when I picked up
where I had left off, other than to wail a hearty: “AAAHHHHHHH!”

“Enough of that
impertinence,” I said. “It is not for you to decide when
your spanking is over, little boy.”

Aside from some hearty
kicking and wriggling about, he had, until now, been fairly
well-behaved. I had spanked him silently for a while, letting him
imagine what he looked like stretched over my lap, his bare bottom
under my hand, letting him feel his spanking with no distractions
before we got down to business. Of course, regardless of how
willingly he had accepted this, Mugen was still his stubborn bratty
self. Oh, he was resisting me. He was gasping and writhing and
huffing short explosions of breath and tensing his legs, then kicking
them straight, and yet, no tears. He had released only one genuine
whimper, right at the time of his agreement.

So he was far from
surrender, despite his clearly sore bottom. But he was so close, so
very close to tears. I could feel it. The issues we had to go over
would surely help him let go. So his timing was good. I was ready
to attack the heart of the matter, and this would be especially
difficult for Mugen. Good time to begin some honest protestations.

Mugen’s instincts
were well-honed. He lived on them, wasting little time on deep
introspection. So he had been at a loss to how to understand what
had been happening to him since his birthday spanking. No matter. I
did understand it. To my slight shame, I found his lack of
self-awareness endearing. I was embarrassed to feel so delighted in
being able to offer him something he had been unable to achieve on
his own. It somehow felt unseemly. Nevertheless, enjoy it I did.

My own disbelief in
what I had been seeing had caused Mugen several weeks of confusion.
I regretted that, for I would not willingly have caused him pain.
But that time had served a useful purpose for him. It had made Mugen
eager for . . . something. What, he did not know. An answer.
Why am I behaving like a lunatic, Jin? Ah, but he could break my
heart.

So, his two weeks of
confusion had made him desperate and a desperate little boy listens
better than does a belligerent little boy. He was, however, still
amusingly mouthy.

“Ar-Are you going
to s-spank me for the rest of my f-fuckin’ l-life?”

“Most
likely, as it seems to be doing nothing to curb your attitude.”

“Jin!
P-Pleease!”

“You would like
to talk, yes?”

“A’course,
goddammmit!”

I ‘tsked.’
“Such incredible impudence. Is it wise to use such language
when you are over my knee, your pretty bottom on fire, little brat?”

“D-Don’t
call me thaaaaaat!”

“I think I
shall.”

“Nooooooooo!”

“It fits you.”

He kicked ferociously
for a full minute. I wondered where he was getting his energy. But,
of course, it was pure stubbornness driving him, for he had to be
growing weary. I spanked him silently a little longer, then said,
“Would you like to ask something of me?”

“Uh huhhhhh!
Pl-Pleease!”

“Go on.”

“Can we t-talk?”

“Of course. What
shall we talk about?”

“Jin!”

“Perhaps we
should discuss your excessive bratiness, ever since your birthday, or
perhaps I should say, ever since you birthday spanking.” He
buried his face in the crook of his elbow and moaned long and low.

“Jin, I dunno why
. . . d-dunno why . . . been such a prick!”

I chuckled at his
language. So naturally crude, my boy. “You have indeed been a
prick, sir, and when Fuu comes home tonight, you shall apologize to
her for what you have been putting her through.” I gave him an
especially hard whack, making him arch and yelp. “Is that
understood?”

“Uh huh! Y-Yeah!
‘Pol’gize! Yeah, J-Jin! G-Good idea!”

“I am so glad you
agree,” I said, slowing my spanks a little. The tremor in his
voice was watery and weak – he was so very close to tears now.
Time to make my points.

“Mugen, do you
recall the time we saw those boys climbing on the rooftops?”

He thought for a
moment, probably confused as to what I was doing, but he warmed my
heart by trustingly nodding and muttering, “Uh-huuuh.”

“They were
quickly spotted, of course, and they drew a crowd, their families
below were frantic, remember?”

“Uh-huhhhh.”

“Their fathers
went up to bring them down.”

He nodded. “B-Bad,
bad, n-naughty little boys!”

I grinned. “Naughty
little boys indeed! And I vow they were soon red bottomed naughty
little boys,” I said. I paused before delivering my next
spank. He grunted and jerked and waited respectfully – ahh,
very good. “A question, sir – Why did those boys choose
to climb the rooftops in their own neighborhood where they would be
quickly seen? Why not run off to some quiet part of town where they
could climb all the rooftops they desired without the threat of being
caught?”

I paused again, resting
my palm on his hot bottom. Meanwhile, Mugen seemed to be holding his
breath, shocky with sudden comprehension. My boy was quick. He
would indeed know where I was going. But he needed to go there
himself. I would not do this for him. I would only guide him so
far. He needed to make that last leap. I waited.

“T-They din’t
care ‘bout climbing – they was t-trying to get
at-attention.”

“Very good,
little boy!”

A pause, then:
“Jiiiinn?”

“Yes?”

“I-I-I wanted a
d-drink fast! W-Wanted a close by t-tavern! C-Close to our house!”

“Of course you
did, little boy. And what else did you want?”

He choked out a
sputtery-coughing sound, the sound of someone trying to hold back an
inner flood. I had compassion for his struggle, but Mugen was indeed
going to release that flood. He trusted me with his tears. He had
done so before. So there was naught to fear and he knew that. My
poor lover was simply fighting some dark inner force that wouldn’t
allow him to admit the truth.

But I would have none
of that. No dark inner force would keep Mugen from me, locked in
with his loneliness and his confusion, his guilt and his fears. We
had the big truths to face now, so, willing him to withstand a bit
more, I started spanking again. After a break, even a short one, it
would feel fairly horrible. Mugen cried out and arched up with a
wail.

“Answer me,
little boy. I am going nowhere and neither are you. So ‘tis
best you --”

“I-I wanted to
get your ‘ten-tention!” he shot back.

Ah! Breakthrough
number one. “Well you certainly did get my attention, my boy,”
I said, spanking steadily despite his frantic little gasps and yelps.
“You had been trying to get my attention for some time, hadn’t
you?”

I was sure Mugen hadn’t
yet considered that as a reason behind his bizarre behavior. But he
thought about it now, out loud. I listened, fascinated.

“NO! No, I-I
weren’t trying to g-get your atten . . . well . . . w-well,
may-maybe I-I . . . o-okay, mayb-be I w-was . . . a little b-bit . .
. just a little . . .okay, I g-guess I was. Yeah, I-I was, okay?”

His upset now shifted
from confusion to embarrassment and he let fly another round of
‘sorries.’ Time for some comfort: “Mugen,”
I said in a quiet voice. “There is nothing ‘wrong’
with wanting my attention. I am happy to give it to you, for you are
deserving of it, little boy.”

He gasped, tensing, so
close to tears. Of course he could say nothing to this, though, so I
pushed on.

“But you do not
need to risk your foolish neck in order to gain my attention. You
attract enough trouble without going to extremes, my boy. You know
full well the difference between the kind of danger that is an
unavoidable part of your life, and the kind that is an unnecessary
risk. For instance --” I raised my knee, tipping his bottom
up so that I could spank the tender undercurve of his cheeks. Mugen
howled and kicked and squirmed anew:

“AAAHHHH!! STOP!
STOP! S-STOP!! OWWW! Ow!Ow!Owww! N-Not therrrre!”

“For instance,
standing up, drunk, in a tavern of men you have just insulted and
offering to take on all comers constitutes what kind of risk little
boy? Acceptable or unacceptable?”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Excuse me?”

“AAAHHHHHHH!
JIN! STOPPPITTT!”

“Try again.”

“Un! Un! Un!
Un’ceptib-ble!”

I lowered my leg and
went back to spanking his very red bottom – not much of an
improvement for poor Mugen at this stage. “Indeed it is, sir,
and should I ever find you doing such a thing again, I shall take you
over my knee and give you a spanking that will make this one seem
like a slight warm-up. Do you understand?”

“Uhh-hhuhh!
Y-Yes, J-Jin! Sorry, sorry! S-Sooo sorry!”

If I had felt the
slightest sense that Mugen’s distress was anything but
physical, I would have stopped at once. But I knew him, and I knew
that, behind his outer dismay was a secretly comfortable Mugen. He
would have been fighting me otherwise. He could have easily fought
his way off my lap.

But, although Mugen was
battling himself on many levels, he was not the least bit inclined to
fight me. He had already realized deep inside how much he wanted
this. He had invited it, and it had needed to be that way. I would
not, and could not force myself upon him in this manner. Now we
understood each other, though. His predilection had been voiced, and
it would stand. He’d had the courage to do that, so I would
never again demand he give that consent.

So I pressed on, knowing
exactly what he needed, and feeling quite satisfied to be able to
give him what he desired. The added bonus was that I desired it as
well.

We were actually nearly
done. He seemed more than ready. He lay trembling and listening,
releasing small whimpers. Not yet, not quite yet, little boy.
Hold on. We have a bit more to do.

“I know you are
sorry, beloved,” I said in a gentle tone. “So let us
return to the beginning. Once more, why I am spanking you?”

He groaned and heaved
an exhausted sigh. “You’re upset with m-me ‘bout
the tavern and the f-fight, even though I-I said s-sorrryyy!”

“No. I told you.
I am not upset with about that. I am not even upset with you.”

“But-But-But --”

“Yes, you said
you were sorry, over and over you have said it. But you just said
it, Mugen. You said what you felt was expected of you. There was no
meaning behind it, no repentance, just an empty gesture. Tomorrow
there might be another tavern and another night when you feel like
challenging the world, and I might not be there to --”

I paused to govern my
anger. It had no place here, not with him over my knee. I took a
breath and began again. “I am not upset with you,
Mugen. I am upset by what you did, not with you. Never with
you.”

He gasped and froze,
clearly stunned, thinking that over. I pressed on swiftly:

“I am spanking
you because I care about you . . . no, because I love you. I repeat,
you are worthy of my attention, little boy. You do not have to seek
it. It is always, always yours. I shall not lose you to your wild
temper and foolish recklessness. This --” I swatted him hard
and watched him arch and wail. “ – is yours any time you
need it, because you deserve this very special kind of attention and
care, Mugen. And --” I also had to be honest with him. “
-- And it gives me pleasure to bestow this upon you as well. I am
most content in the doing, little boy.

“So I mean to see
you receive this very special kind of attention and care henceforth,
as often as it is needed. Be forewarned, my beloved brat, for I am
watching, as ever I have been, as it is my pleasure to do. You shall
not get away with anything on my watch. Behave as you have been and
you shall find yourself over my knee as often as it is needed. And
you can find a way to explain your constantly red naughty little boy
bottom to Fuu.”

I meant every word, and
he knew it, and, finally, Mugen shattered. A low choking sob burst
from him, and that was followed by another, louder sob, followed by
another, and another and then a deluge of wrenching sobs exploded
from deep within him.

“Y-You l-l-love
me, love m-meee,” he sputtered through his tears.
“Y-You said, l-love m-mee, and ‘nuff to s-spank, n-nuff
to-to . . . .”

“Enough
to do it as often as it is needed, yes,” I said. “You
are forgiven for what happened in the tavern, little boy. All over
now. But understand, I was never angry with you. I was angry about
what you did. You endangered yourself for no reason. Heed me well,
my brat, I’ll have no more of it.”

And Mugen was gone
then, utterly collapsed, weeping with abandon, needing to cry,
needing time with his tears and to let everything I had said sink in.
I felt that might take a while. Ahh! Sweet, sweet release!

I shuddered, both weary
and exhilarated, resting my hot palm on his hotter backside. I
briefly wondered if he even realized that I had stopped spanking him.
To my surprise I felt a few tears slipping down my cheeks at the
sound of Mugen’s raw weeping. My disheveled lover gave way
with all he had, embracing his surrender wholeheartedly, as he did
everything. I released his wrist, watching with a small grin as he
left it there at the small of his back. Incredibly touching.

I gazed at him for
awhile, lying there over my lap, completely exposed and unguarded,
trusting me with his helplessness. A lovely tremor passed through me
and my chest thrummed with contentment. Right now, in this moment,
Mugen was completely mine, completely safe. I rubbed his back and
his sweet red bottom, feeling at peace and settled for the first time
since I had spanked him several weeks ago and all this had been set
into motion.

But there was a deeply
stricken young man collapsed over my knee who was in need of
comforting, so I began to ‘shhh’ him and purr soft
non-words of comfort. His weeping actually became a bit more
intense, not quite what I had been aiming for, but an understandable
reaction. Worthiness was one of those dark inner forces that
tormented Mugen, so he struggled to hear my praise.

But I persevered, using
what he called my ‘little boy speak,’ that special
language of mine that he clearly loved and hated to admit to loving.
I told him how good he was, how brave, how wonderfully obedient. I
told him how proud I was of him. And Mugen cried on, less and less
violently, though, for I spoke in a soft tone and he needed to quiet
down in order to hear me.

I smoothed my palm over
his wild hair and lovingly patted his burning bottom and watched,
enthralled, as Mugen drank in my attentions, and when I felt he had
softened enough I made my move. He was melted and weakened and had
nothing to say about what I chose to do next, so when I turned him
and gathered up his limp body and held him on my lap, and began to
rock back and forth, Mugen could do nothing to stop me save make a
few sounds of weak protest, his crying having slowed at last.

“None of that,
now, little one,” I told him. “Lest you find yourself
back over my knee.”

He gasped and became
rather adorably compliant. I moved up on the futon, stretching out
and dragging him up, until he lay half-draped upon me, on his
stomach. Mugen’s crying had all but ceased. He was now
shuddering and hiccuping off and on, again, rather adorably. I
feared I was in serious danger of liking this too much. He lay
quietly upon me, but I could feel him thinking.

“J-Jin?” he
finally ventured, his voice raw from crying.

“Hmm?”

“Y-You wouldn’t
really d-do this again w-would y --”

“I believe you
would say, ‘count on it.’” I felt him grin against
my chest and decided to give him more to enjoy. “You now know
what to expect should you choose to behave in a certain manner. Test
me, my brat, and you shall indeed have trouble sitting.”

He made a cringing
sound in his throat. “How come y-ou’re so bossy?”

“Because I am.”

Silence. Then: “Oh.”

I sensed he had more to
ask, but he was also utterly drained. He had yawned several times.
I wondered how much longer his curiosity would win out over his
drowsiness.

“Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“You . . . you
ain’t angry at me, right?”

“No. Not at you,
beloved.”

“You never was.”

“No.”

“You was angry
‘bout what I done.”

Smiling at his
sloppy-sleepy language, I kissed his brow and said, “About what
you did. And yes. I was angry about what you did. Not angry at
you.”

“Tha’s lots
diff’ernt.”

“Entirely
different. Very clever of you.” Mugen might have to hear that
message often. Clearly it was a new concept for him.

More pondering, then:
“Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you
learn so much ‘bout that?”

“You mean about
spankings?”

“Uh huh.”

“In the dojo.
There is a hierarchy, the younger students being disciplined when
necessary by their mentors.”

“So you got
spanked, too?”

“When I was very
young,” I admitted. “Not when I was older.”

“So you gave it
out? When you got older?”

I sniffed a laugh.
“Yes. But it was discipline, Mugen. Not punishment.”

“Oh.”
Silence again, then: “Jin?”

I grinned. “Hmm?”

“There’s
nothin’, well, wrong with me, is there? I mean, I – I
asked for it. Like you said. You’re right. I did. I went to
that tavern ‘cause it was close to home, but I-I didn’t
really think about it --”

“Mugen,” I
lifted his chin, to gaze down into his glassy eyes, and said,
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Remember what I said?
It is all right to long for attention, even when it comes in the form
of a sore bottom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of. And I have
nothing to feel ashamed of for wanting to give you this kind of
attention.”

“You really do
want to?”

“I do.”

He grinned then
snuggled down upon me again. Soon: “Jin?”

“Yes, Mugen?”

“I . . . I dunno
how t’say --”

He let go a soft growl.
I understood why. Mugen often became upset with what he felt was
his inability to express himself well. “I can’t talk
as good as you! I dunno how to say it right!” I knew it
to be a source of frustration within him. But I felt, and I often
told him, that he had a purity of expression that could not be
taught. He would think intensely when he had something important to
say, and then he would express his deepest thoughts with a sweet and
simple elegance. So it saddened me to see him feeling disappointed
in himself.

“Take
your time,” I now murmured, kissing his head. He thought for a
while, then:

“That wasn’t
like no birthday spankin.’”

I smiled. “No,
indeed.”

“B-But, Jin?”

“Yes, little
boy?”

“It . . . well, I
guess I just wanna say thanks, ‘cause, that sure weren’t
no birthday spankin’, but it still feels like it were, well . .
. like a gift.”

I smiled. “Beautifully
said, little boy.”

He responded with a
snore. Ah. My Mugen’s sweet and simple elegance.

end

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