Corporal Punishment: A Last Resort - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It is not the author’s intention to condone acts depicted in this story including violence and incest. All characters are over the age of 18.

Damon would have thought that the spanking he’d received the night before had been a bizarre dream–one that he’d take to the grave–had it not been for the smarting on his ass.

The second he woke up, he groaned. Jesus, it felt like he had second degree burns exclusively on his butt cheeks and upper thighs.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, checking the time. His alarm was going to go off in a few minutes, not that he’d be able to fall back asleep now that the pain was really setting in.

He tried to piece together the night before. He was in his bed, which was good, but how had he gotten there? It was a haze, but not a drunken one. He could recall needing help up the stairs, though, and his dad had made sure he’d showered…

“Oh, shit!” he muttered, eyes shooting open once more. He rolled out of bed, hissing when his cheeks brushed the sheets, and hobbled over to the mirror to check out the damage. It was an amalgamation of pink with some shadows of purple and blue bruising, but a few handprints were visible if one stared long enough, like Rorschach’s inkblot test. Do you see something sexual? 

“Jesus, fuck, dad,” he whispered, turning to look in better light. How hard had his dad been hitting him? It had been painful at the time, excruciating even, but to have that kind of force…

Damon loved his dad. He sort of hated him, too, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Resentment might be a better word for it. There was something fundamentally lacking in their relationship, and no matter how hard Damon tried to fix himself, to be okay, the more empty he felt. Like a failure.

So he stopped trying.

He didn’t like to think that his father, his easygoing, charismatic dad, was capable of inflicting as much pain as he had. To leave marks on Damon, his own son, who he should love and protect and nurture. That wasn’t the type of relationship they had. Not that they had much of a relationship these days, but this total one-eighty.

And immediately afterwards, hazy as Damon’s memory was, he remembered his dad had bundled him up in his arms, rocked him, told him he was a good boy and that he was forgiven, then helped him shower. He’d tucked him into bed and cuddled him to sleep. It was…nice. Really fucking nice. Too nice, in fact, because Damon may have had some sort of freak fear/adrenaline boner while his dad was spanking him, but he couldn’t explain the one he had while his dad was snuggling him, petting him and nuzzling his hair. He’d been so horny that he’d jerked one out in his sleep, barely conscious.

Damon rubbed his face with his hands and groaned again. Fuck.

He told himself he wasn’t going to masturbate again, but his hands were already sliding down his torso to his insistent erection. He told himself he wasn’t going to think of his dad while he jerked it, but he was already laying back down on the bed, shifting so he purposefully irritated his bruised cheeks. Pictured his dad’s hands rubbing circles in them as a silent apology for hurting him like he had the night before.

Damon came in like two seconds.

So he was having gay, incestuous thoughts about his dad. Great.

Emmett prepared breakfast with a pep in his step. He was always a morning person, but today he was feeling particularly giddy. 

Last night, he and his son had connected meaningfully for the first time in years. Was it in the way that he had hoped? No. Was it better than nothing? Definitely.

“Morning, kiddo,” Emmett said, smiling at his son as he stumbled into the kitchen. “I made eggs.”

Damon grunted. He looked adorably disheveled, a pillow crease on his face and his dark hair a mess, lids heavy with exhaustion. He wore his usual t-shirt and jeans with beat up Docs.

Damon sat gingerly in his seat, still wincing, and Emmett felt equal parts guilty and proud knowing that he’d been the cause his son’s discomfort.

Emmett popped a cup of coffee in front of him, and Damon snatched it like Gollum would the Ring.

Emmett plated their meals and set them on the table before taking his place across from Damon at the breakfast nook. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out for dinner. Do you want to go to that Vietnamese place tonight?” He thought he’d played it cool by not using their old name for their nights out together (Daddy Date Night.)

Damon looked at Emmett, his normally impassive or sneering features resembling something more like a deer in headlights. “Um. Yeah?”

Emmett smiled. “Great. How’s six?”

“Fine.” Damon shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth and stared at his plate intently. Emmett booked the reservation online.

Emmett wasn’t shocked when six p.m. came and went, and he was alone at the dinner table. He ordered a few of his favorite dishes, knowing the serving sizes would be small, and wondered why he’d assumed that this time would be different.

Damon went home sober and before curfew. He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the silence that greeted him when he got there. He figured his dad would be upset that he’d flaked on Da–no, he refused to call it Daddy Date Night.

Anyway, he felt like even more of a piece of shit than usual for leaving his dad hanging, but he also didn’t know why he felt bad about it when his dad knew he was an unreliable piece of shit. So really, it was his dad’s fault. 

For some reason, he had been expecting his father to be waiting for him in the armchair like he had the night before. And he was oddly disappointed when he didn’t see him lurking. Then disgusted with himself for being so goddamn needy.

“Dad?” Damon called out despite himself. When he didn’t hear a response, he crept up the stairs, not sure why he was sneaking around in his own home.

Dad’s bedroom was empty, the lights turned off and the air still. Damon ignored the stab of concern and went to his room.

He spent the next forty five minutes having a lonely jerk off session.

Emmett didn’t see his brother as often as he would like due to their conflicting work schedules. Dax traveled a lot, sometimes for weeks at a time, and when he wasn’t working, he was with his wife and kids.

After finishing dinner, the first thing he wanted to do was see his big brother.

Emmett: Can I come see you?

Call it sibling spidey sense, but Dax could tell Emmett’s text was a crisis call. 

Dax was laying on the couch catching up on work emails, pretending not to notice that his son was wearing sinfully short shorts and freeballing, cock visible with his leg hiked up the way they were. That was something that could wait.

Dax pocketed his phone and stood, heading towards the kitchen to let his wife know he was leaving.

“Where are you going?” his son, Irvine–one guess where he was conceived–demanded.

Dax raised his brows at his son who immediately flushed and shrank in his seat. 

“Where are you going?” he tried again in a much milder tone.

“I’m going to visit Uncle Emmett,” Dax answered genially.

Irvine perked up at the mention of his uncle, and Dax fought a smirk. Yeah, his son was a horny little deviant who’d developed a crush on his uncle as a kid that had morphed into something that had his semi lengthening, head peeking out of the leg of his shorts.

“Can I come?”

“It’s past your bedtime,” Dax said.

Irvine gasped in offense. “I’m eighteen!” 

Dax grinned, approaching his son menacingly. “Exactly. Little boys need their sleep.”

Irvine shrieked and leapt over the back of the couch, sprinting for the stairs. Dax cut him off and grabbed him, throwing him over his shoulder and spanking him playfully. “Big boys can outmaneuver their old dads.”

“Mom!” Irvine cried. “Dad’s spanking me!”

“Get him, honey!” his beautiful wife called supportively. It wasn’t clear who she was supporting, which he supposed was her strategy.

Dax carried Irvine up the stairs, which was, admittedly, harder than it used to be. His son had packed on some muscle. 

Dax gave his son one more hearty pat on the rear before depositing him in his bed.

“Lights out at eleven, baby,” Dax said sternly.

Irvine looked up at him with big green eyes, and Dax felt a small pang in his chest. God, he loved his family.

“I will, daddy,” his son responded, a bit of a purr in his voice. That was something else he’d started doing recently–well, restarted. Around thirteen, when boys started trying to seem older and fit in, Irvine had started calling him ‘dad,’ which didn’t bother Dax. A few years ago, he’d gone back to ‘daddy,’ in addition to his son wearing skimpy shorts and following him around again like he had as a boy.

Daddy Dax couldn’t say he hated it.

Emmett pulled into the driveway of his parents house, relieved when he opened the two car garage and saw his brother’s SUV already parked inside. The house was empty at the moment since their parents preferred to spend winters in California, and it was an ideal spot for clandestine meetings with his older brother. He hated the cloak and dagger shit, not that Dax bothered much. 

Sometimes, Emmett resented that Dax’s life seemed so easy. His older brother was always easygoing and carefree, but Emmett knew–or at least was starting to suspect–that he, himself, was the problem. Emmett had been the one who decided to change the status quo within the family, at least with Damon. Not so much with the rest of his family. Definitely not with his sexy older brother.

Dax was ruggedly handsome in a millennial way. He had a trimmed beard and sharp undercut that never seemed to go out of style, paired with business casual clothes that should have seemed out of place on a man with tattoos and a nostril piercing, especially in a corporate setting, but he made it work.

Dax glanced up when he heard the door connecting the garage to the house open, a happy smile breaking across his face and enhancing the fine lines he’d developed in his forty-plus years of life. Emmett felt all–well, most–of the dejectedness flee upon seeing his brother standing at the island, presenting a box of pizza and a six pack of beer. 

“Hey, kiddo,” greeted Dax, as if Emmett wasn’t also middle-aged. “I wasn’t sure if you ate.”

The smell of home that he could never name surrounded him, along with greasy dough and the alluring scent of his brother’s cologne.

Dax tilted his head curiously as Emmett approached without speaking. The look on his face was so focused, if he didn’t know better, he’d think the man was going to swing on him. Since he did know better, he wasn’t taken off guard when his brother went in for a long, passionate kiss, fingers delving into his hair and angling his head assertively.

When they broke apart, Dax breathlessly mused, “Oh, it’s like that?”

“Strip,” commanded Emmett.

Dax grinned, unbuttoning his shirt and backing away from his brother, not needing to look to know the path to their parents’ master suite. “Fine, but if you’re going to wreck my ass the way I think you’re about to, we’re doing it in a bed. Last time you were this worked up, we ended up in the ER.”

They really had. While they were both vers, Dax rarely let Emmett take a completely dominant role in bed. But when he let Emmett take the reins, he ran with them.

“What’s a herniated disk between brothers?” asked Emmett, some of his older brother’s cheerfulness rubbing off on him.

“I had to go to physical therapy!” Dax said indignantly, though he was laughing. He passed the threshold into their parents’ room. He’d shucked off his shirt and was pulling his belt free. “You know how pissed my wife was when I couldn’t rail her for a month?”

Emmett’s grin was feral, stalking his brother’s movements and cornering him at the foot of the bed, right where Dax wanted to be. “Good thing she had a sympathetic brother-in-law to pick up the slack.”

Dax’s expression turned lascivious. “Good thing, indeed.” That was a painful month, being cuckolded by his brother. He’d gotten some top tier blowjobs out of it, though. There was nothing quite as erotic as watching his wife and his little brother worshiping his cock and snowballing his cum.

Dax was prepared when his brother made his move, launching and tackling him to the bed. He put up a fight, knowing that his brother needed to work off some excess energy, but he didn’t fight too hard. Dax topped most of the time in his day to day life, and his ass was feeling lonely.

Emmett wrestled Dax until his brother surrendered, laying back against the pillows and looking downright seductive. His primal urge was to slide into his older brother’s tight ass and rut, but Dax’s long, thick cock lay so beautifully against his abs that were covered in a soft layer of padding. His heavy sack hung over his taint, leaving his hole in shadow. Emmett’s mouth began to pool with saliva, and he pushed his brother’s legs up, devouring his hole.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” groaned Dax, golden brown eyes falling shut, fingers tangling in Emmett’s hair. “Yes, baby bro. Eat my ass.”

Emmett speared through his brother’s sphincter, greedily tongue fucking him. Dax, whose default was to maintain control, used his grip on his brother’s hair to shove his face more forcefully between his cheeks, grinding his ass and riding his younger brother’s face. Emmett maintained control, pushing the backs of Dax’s legs up with impressive strength until his hips came off the bed. Dax was forced to let go of Emmett’s hair, losing balance, so he jerked his cock and fondled his balls instead, moaning and writhing like a bitch in heat, begging for his little brother’s tongue, urging him deeper. Emmett obliged, not at all bothered by the earthy taste of his brother’s ass.

Dax protested when Emmett pulled back. He had been close to the edge, getting lost in the sensation and forgetting that rimming was not, in fact, the main course that evening.

Emmett shifted up the bed and lined up, pressing the head of his cock against Dax’s relaxed entrance and pushing. Dax gasped when the head popped in, mouth dropped open in awe at the sensation of being breeched. It felt like the first time. 

He and his brother held each other’s eyes as he bottomed out in one long, steady thrust.

Neither brother could get over just how intimate–romantic, even–the sex was between them. No matter how gentle or brutal, in the woods or a bed or the backseat of a car, their connection was stronger than the bonds of most lovers who claimed to be soulmates. Dax and Emmett truly were two halves a whole that fit together perfectly.

“I love you,” whispered Dax, and Emmett smiled warmly. He returned with his own “I love you,” though the words weren’t necessary. They never were.

The peaceful moment shattered moments later when Emmett pulled back and thrust deep, swiveling his hips experimentally, driving them both wild with lust.

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me,” growled Dax.

Emmett grinned devilishly, then he set a punishing pace, slamming into his brother with a cruel force that resembled a hate fuck more than lovemaking.

Instinct prompted Dax to speak while Emmett was battering his hole. “Did you spank the little demon?”

Emmett’s rhythm faltered, a flash of bewilderment on his face before his dark brows furrowed and he fucked him even harder. “Yeah, I beat his ass.”

“Oh, yeah,” moaned Dax, clutching at his baby brother’s ass. “How’d he take it?”

“Like a brat,” Emmett gritted out, taking his anger out on Dax’s out of practice tunnel. Still, his cock remained hard, oozing precum. God, he loved prostate stimulation. “Ungrateful shit.”

“Didn’t work, then?” Dax chuckled breathlessly.

Emmett snarled, slapped his brother in the face hard enough to make his ears ring. He hooked his elbows under Dax’s knees and pushed them up, changing the angle of the pounding, making Dax see stars. Christ, his brother was a beast. “Hit me again,” he demanded, and Emmett slapped him harder. “Hot damn. Did he like it?” Dax asked between grunts, arms moving over his head to brace his hands on the headboard, preventing them from sliding further up the bed and slamming into the wood skull first.

Emmett admired Dax’s bulging biceps, big tits, and flexing abs. He was taking the fuck like a champ, letting Emmett do whatever the fuck he wanted, being the outlet his baby brother needed. Fuck, he loved him. Overwhelmed, Emmett bit Dax’s meaty bicep, desperate to taste his flesh. Dax growled, caught up in the pleasure-pain, the sharp sting in the thin skin of his inner arm breaking and bruising, the friction of his cock rubbing between their bellies, and the relentless pressure on his prostate from his brother’s fat rod.

“He started humping my leg,” Emmett finally responded, sweat dripping off of his face and onto Dax’s. Dax’s tongue swept up the salty droplet, making him want more. He braced with one arm, reaching up with the other to yank his brother closer, licking a long stripe up the side of his face.

“Did he cum?” he asked, then his eyes rolled back in his head as his brother began rubbing his prostate at the perfect angle. “Jesus Christ, that’s good shit.”

“No, but my pants were wet, he was leaking so much. I heard him jerking it after I left the room. I thought he was asleep.”

“Fuuuck, my nephew is so goddamn sexy. When are you going to fuck him?”

“I’m. Not. Going. To. Fuck. Him.” Emmett punctuated each word with a hard thrust, the wet slapping of skin like thunder in the otherwise quiet hotel room.

Dax cackled maniacally, disjointed as the air was getting pummeled out of him. “Yeah, like you weren’t going to–” He yelled as he was suddenly empty and forced onto his stomach, face pressed into the pillow with a big hand at the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair. His brother found his entrance again and went right back to fucking him without breaking stride. “Goddamn, you’re good at this.” His words were muffled by the pillow that was seriously about to suffocate him. Good thing he wasn’t one to shy away from breath play.

His brother’s thrusts stuttered for a few seconds before he slammed home once more, grip easing up enough that Dax could free his face from the pillow. Between his baby brother’s cock pulsing inside him, rubbing his prostate, the friction on his cock trapped between his abs and the bed, and the sudden inhalation of clean, precious air, he reached his own orgasm, eyes rolling back in his head once again.

His brother landed half on top of him and they laid like that for a few minutes, catching their breath.

Dax turned in Emmett’s arms and they kissed, passionate but gentle, every brush of lips and swipe of tongues loving and languid.

“What are you gonna do?” Dax asked as they were dozing off.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Author’s Note: This chapter was longer than I intended! I love Dax, so the writing flowed a lot towards the end. Let me know what you guys think of him!

I have a general idea of where I want this story to go, but mostly, I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Chapter one was written in a post-night-meds haze of 3 a.m. inspiration, and this is…well, I didn’t take the night meds yet, but it is 3 a.m. again. Whoops! 

If you’ve enjoyed chapters one & two, check out my story Charlie and the Himbos on Amazon! It’s $0.99 or free with KU. 

Thank you for reading, rating, and commenting!

-CP

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