Wednesday, November 5, 2014

The Brat Ch 02 Pt 2 - Birthday Swats

That night was uneventful as we both felt tired and stuffed after dinner.  After the day we had together it felt like enough to just be able to get into bed with him, tug at his dick a little, and then fall asleep in his arms.  The following days were full of work, school, and only a few orgasms so by my birthday I was feeling pretty horny.  We met Ethan outside a French restaurant downtown.  We stood around Mr. Grant’s car in the parking lot.  I had told him to wear his best shirt and tie.  I was pleased when I saw him and the gift in his hands.  I couldn’t help but notice the curve of his ass.

“This is for you,” he said.

“Of course,” I said taking the gift.

“But you should open it later.”

“Right, besides Mr. Grant said he had something for me at home too.”

I gave a mischievous look to Mr. Grant who only nodded before he unlocked his car and took the present from me.  He set it in the backseat, closed the door, and locked the car with his remote.  It felt so good to be standing there with them, to know we had this little secret between us. 

The restaurant was up scale.  Ethan and I both deferred to Mr. Grant who made the recommendations and ultimately ordered for us along with a bottle of wine.  The conversation was easy as I let them catch up even though I knew everything about what each of them had been doing.  When the waiter brought the wine we toasted to my twenty-first birthday.  I was instantly reminded of the spanking I had asked for and I winced a little as our glasses touched together.  We made small talk after the toast and when the food arrived we fell silent for a long time, offering only a few compliments as we ate.  The lull was finally broken as we got close to being done with our entrees.

“Are we going out to a bar?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah of course,” I said.

“We have plenty of time,” Mr. Grant said.

“It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t think I’m dressed for it.  I can’t wear this.  Can I?”

“You’ll borrow something from me,” I said.

That seemed to settle any confusion.  We skipped dessert.  In the car I sat in the passenger seat, Ethan was in the back.  Mr. Grant drove with a familiar, steady hand.  It was dark out, the only light was from the dashboard and passing street lights.  I was about to pull out my phone to check for messages, maybe play a game, when Ethan handed his present up to me.  I took hold of it, placed it on my lap.

“Can I?” I asked.

“Why not?” Ethan asked.

“I don’t know.”

I looked to Mr. Grant expecting him to offer some advice, some recommendation, about the proper thing to do, but he didn’t.  I tore into the wrapping, pulled it from an oblong box.  I picked up the lid, let it drop between my knees.

“What is it?” Mr. grant asked.

“I don’t know,”I said.

“Take it out,” Ethan said.

I probed inside to feel a wooden, flat surface that had indentations and marks in it.  It felt like the indentations should make letters, but nothing I was familiar with so I looked back to Ethan hoping he would offer some answer but he didn’t.  That’s when my fingers reached the tapered bottom, ran over the handle with a ribbed grip.

“Oh my fucking god!  Is this--”

“A real frat paddle,” Ethan said.

“Just what every boy wants for his birthday.  How’d you get it?”

“Well,” Ethan said.  “It was by sort of dubious means.”

He sat back and I looked to him.  I wanted to hear the story.  He waved me away and said he’d tell me another time, but asked if I’d like to try it. 

“I haven’t had my birthday spanking,” I said.

“It stings pretty bad,” Ethan said.

“You’ve tried it?  You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I turned the paddle in my hands, felt the weight of it.  I toyed with it for the rest of the drive as I tried to imagine some scenario where Ethan might steal or otherwise come upon a Greek paddle but I couldn’t think of one. 

When we got home I placed it back in the box, unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car feeling as if I was carrying something nefarious with me.  I was the first one at the door and the first one inside.  I headed to the room I shared with Mr. Grant to get a change of clothes for myself and Ethan.  I was surprised when they both followed after me.

“Let’s get the spanking out of the way,” Mr. Grant said.

“Right now?” I asked.

Ethan grinned at me.  I thought it might happen after we got back, when I was drunk and it wouldn’t feel as bad, but then I remembered Mr. Grant’s rule about not mixing alcohol and spanking.  I was ready to do it, though I felt a little self-conscious because Ethan was there as well and I hadn’t really been spanked in front of him, anyone.  He had been spanked in front of me and it had been intensely erotic.

“Okay,” I said.

“Do I get to stay?” Ethan asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

“What kind of spanks do you want?” Mr. Grant asked.

“How many are there?”

“Your age plus one or two, sometimes the spanker even spells out Happy Birthday,” Ethan said.

“Well, I’m glad I’m turning 21 instead of 60,” I said.

They both laughed at me for a moment before getting serious.  I looked from one to the other as they studied me.  I didn’t want to be a chicken, but I didn’t want to walk funny the rest of the night either.

“Briefs,” I said, “with the paddle in the kitchen.”

Ethan smirked at my suggestion.  Mr. Grant nodded, took the box from me and walked out of the room.  Ethan turned on his heels.  I followed after them, stopped in the doorway.  Mr. Grant set the box down on the small kitchen table, opened it, and took out the paddle.  It looked more intimidating in the light as I could see the insignia, the length and the width.  He swung a few times to feel the weight of it, gauging the amount of force needed.  He motioned for me to move to him so I did, positioned myself just where I thought I needed to be.  I looked back to Ethan who stroked his chin to try help keep himself from laughing.

“Assume the position,” Mr. Grant said.

I turned away from them, opened my pants, and bent over exposing my brief clad ass, sure that they had a good view of my cheeks.

“Don’t worry, these aren’t punishment spankings.  They’re celebratory.”

It was little comfort.  The first crack felt a little weak so I knew he was holding back.  The pain didn’t linger.  The second one came with a little more force but it wasn’t bad, just hurt a little.  He got to ten and Ethan started to count out loud.  He got to fifteen and I started to count along with gritted teeth. 

At twenty I was glad it was almost over but then I heard him say to stay in position as I needed, “one to grow on”, so I balled my fist.  He whacked me for twenty-one, and then again for that extra boost.  I shook my head and pushed myself up, turned and reached to my ass, rubbed at the warm flesh.  Mr. Grant looked over the paddle, tested it again.  Ethan smirked a little.  I tried to see if he had an erection at all but I couldn’t see.  There was only one thing left to do.

“How about you try a few licks?” I asked Ethan.

“What?  Me?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said, “but just a few.  Mr. Grant can give them if he wants.”

I was a little disappointed that he asked for Mr. Grant instead of me but I realized he knew Mr. Grant might be easier, a little more judicious because I wanted just a little bit of vengeance for giving me the thing.  I stepped aside and motioned for him to take my place.  He moved to the table and bent over.

“Oh no, it has to be either underwear or bare,” I said.

Mr. Grant looked to me with a raised eyebrow.  Ethan complied though, quickly pulled his pants and his underwear down to show a bruised, slightly beaten ass.

“Just when did you get this paddle?” I asked.

“A few days ago,” Ethan answered. 

Mr. Grant stepped into place and I moved back to the doorway to get a nice view.  I watched Mr. Grant measure first, slightly touching Ethan’s round cheek, before he struck.  One, two, three, four, and five, then it was over.  Ethan howled at the last one before he got up, rubbed at his ass.

I laughed a little at him before I moved to behind his back, took him by the arm and said we should go get changed.  He hobbled a little so I gave him a quick slap on his still bare bottom to get him moving.  He stepped a little faster as we headed to the bedroom. 

Once we were there I noticed he had one hand down over his crotch and I realized the slow motion was because of him trying to hide an erection and not because of the pain.  He looked away from me embarrassed.  I shook it off and went to the drawers where I pulled out jeans and shirts, tossed them on the bed.  I kept my favorite for myself.  He looked them over but somehow being there with him reminded me of a locker room so I just stripped down to my underwear. 

When he saw I wasn’t being bashful he began to undress.  He got down to his boxers easily and it gave me an idea.  I asked him if he’d like to try a pair of briefs.  He shook his head at first so I teased him a little.  Finally he pulled off his boxers and tossed them at me.  They hit me right in the face so I laughed back as I tossed them to the floor.  I pulled out two clean pair of briefs.  I tossed one back to him and kept the other for myself.  He picked up the fabric and looked it over.

“It’s simple,” I said.

“I know how underwear works.  It’s just, don’t you feel kind of vulnerable in them?  They aren’t very big.”

“Not your size?” I asked.

“A little small, but really I mean, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you think I look good?”

He laughed it off.  I dropped mine to my ankles.

“Now that’s a nice sight,” Mr. Grant said from the door.

We looked to him, then to each other’s bare, red butts.  We let out a laugh, moved closer, hip to hip.  I put my arm around his waist and he slipped his over my shoulder.  I looked down at Ethan’s dick and felt my own beginning to stiffen.  We looked back to Mr. Grant who only shook his head.

“Take a picture,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ethan added.

“Really?” he asked.

We agreed and a moment later Mr. Grant pulled out his phone and took a picture of us hip to hip with our asses on display.

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