Meant to be a Joke

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Just an unashamedly kinky but probably quite tame lil thing I thought someone here might like. About spanking.

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Notes: I wrote this pretty much purely for my own amusement, and at 3 am, so it’s probably quite crap.

Meant to be a Joke by Thingogram

It hadn’t been something he’d ever thought of before.

All he’d been thinking about that morning was the joke he was going to play on Howard; something he had read about on a website run by a man from America who lived in Japan.

He stalked through the shelves, camouflaging himself against his own glittering additions to the stock, creeping closer and closer to his target. There was Howard, leaning over the counter, checking something on a list or some other just as dull thing, bum sticking right out. Vince crept forward, silent like a ninja, two fingers pointed out straight.

“KANCHO!” he howled, ramming his fingers right between Howard’s cheeks.

The sound Howard made was not far off a full-blown scream. “You… little…”

The grin dropped from Vince’s face. This was the Serious Pissed Off Look. This was the look that promised “the post that hurts the most”, “a whole new world of pain” or whatever Howard’s threat of the month was. This was the look that wasn’t just going to talk about it, but might just actually try and do it.

Vince ran away.

Howard crashed about behind him, shouting orders at him to stop, and telling him just how sore he would be by the time Howard was through with him.

“I didn’t mean it mate, it was just a joke!” Vince tried to reason as he did his best to evade Howard’s capture.

But eventually, Howard managed to corner him against the counter. Left with nowhere to go, he tried to climb over the counter, but Howard grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pinned him down over it. There was an oppressive silence, during which Vince could somehow feel that Howard was ready with two fingers behind him.

“Look, mate, I didn’t mean to make you jump ten feet in the air,” Vince begged. “It was a joke, it was meant to be funny! I’m sorry if it wasn’t, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you or nothing!” No response. “Howard, please.”

Howard’s grip on his shirt loosened. Vince sighed with relief. “Let that be a warning to you,” Howard scolded.

And then, quite suddenly, Howard’s hand had connected with Vince’s arse. It wasn’t a hard or a heavy smack, just one light swat, barely more than a pat, but it affected Vince in some way that was entirely unexpected. It didn’t even hurt, but it left him with a sort of tingling sensation that he doubted was a physical feeling.

He spent the day trying to forget about it, but the thought kept coming back, like your dinner after you drink too much.

He had done wrong, and had his bottom smacked like a child. And he had liked it.

Of course, it would be that evening of all days when Naboo chose to complain about some kinky new stock.

“Who they hell is going to buy these?” he asked no one in particular, holding up a thin cane made of rattan twisted with some other, jet black material. Vince stared intently, but out of the corner of his eye so no one could see.

“And this thing?” Naboo continued, running a black riding whip with a ribbon-covered handle through his fingers. Vince’s heart began a-thumping. He had involuntarily begun to imagine what it might feel like to get that across his arse. The thought made him tingle again.

“I suppose we could flog this to someone a bit horsey,” Naboo thought out loud. “And the cane to those people who like to pretend to be Victorians…” He continued to root through the box of stuff. “But- urgh! Frilly handcuffs! Who in their right mind wants frilly handcuffs? Were they designed by someone blind? And this thing.”

Naboo now held up a short, fat wooden paddle with a big black satin bow on the handle. “This is disgusting.”

Vince was inclined to agree.

“Look at those holes,” said Naboo, sticking his finger through one. “You could give someone blisters with that.”

Vince shuddered. Smacking was beginning to feel oddly appealing, but blisters, thankfully, were still as repulsive as ever.

How would it feel if Howard really whacked him…?

“Vince? Vince?” Vince snapped back to attention. Naboo was staring at him. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vince answered, his cheeks beginning to burn. He thought he caught a sardonic eyebrow flicker upwards slightly on Naboo’s face.

“I’m going to bed,” was all Naboo said. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Vince replied, trying to sound carefree and unembarrassed, and failing.

He waited a moment. When he was sure Naboo was gone, and wouldn’t be spying on him or anything like that, he got up and crept forwards, and reached into the box. He pulled out that hideous paddle, but rather than thinking about how ugly the thing looked, he had a curious urge just to touch his behind with it. Glancing nervously around, he held its solid mass to his hip. Listening to the air, he began to move it back.

A door somewhere in the flat swung open, and fast, heavy footsteps came down the corridor. Hurriedly, Vince tried to put the paddle back in the box like it hadn’t been moved, but as his hand shook, it fell to the floor, spilling kinky toys everywhere.

And Howard, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers, stood behind him, face covered by an expression of disbelief.

Vince took a nervous step back and almost tripped, his face flushing.

Howard’s face slid into an unnervingly teasing smile. “Vince Noir, you naughty, kinky boy,” he said, licking his teeth as he watched Vince’s terrified face. He came forward and draped his arms around Vince’s waist. “What would your papa say?”

Vince could only make odd stammering sounds, and Howard giggled.

“Well, your papa’s not here, is he,” Howard murmured, turning to the sofa and leading Vince towards it. “So it looks like I’m going to have to do his job.”

Howard perched himself on the arm of the sofa, and almost without effort he lifted Vince slightly off the ground and positioned him over his lap. Vince gasped as Howard pulled him over slightly so that the sofa was taking most of his weight.

He felt Howard briefly tickle his side, and then felt his breath as he leaned forward to whisper in Vince’s ear. “You’ll thank me for this eventually.”

Howard’s warm right hand left Vince’s side and raised up in the air, before landing with a firm slap on Vince’s bottom. Vince squealed, though from pleasure or pain, he wasn’t sure. This was a proper smack, stinging and sharp. Slap! The next one fell before he was ready, sending shots of pain through him. Slap! His rear felt aflame already. Slap! Slap!

Vince struggled, and in response he heard Howard chuckle and felt him wind his left arm around Vince’s torso to hold him in place.

Slap!

Vince struggled more assertively, and Howard allowed him to break free. Vince looked up, expecting to see anger, but instead was met with guilt and apology.

“I’m sorry Vince,” Howard said, still perched on the arm of the sofa. “I thought you wanted it.”

“Well… I did,” stammered Vince. “But-”

“But what?” demanded Howard. Vince gulped as he saw the understanding on Howard’s face replaced by calm but strong ferocity. Howard got up and advanced on him, and Vince backed away in fear. “Am I not sexy enough for your sordid little fantasies?” He pushed Vince roughly in the chest. “Well? Is that it?”

“No, I-”

“Go to bed,” Howard ordered, before pushing past him and disappearing into his own room.

Shaking, Vince did as he was told. He lay on his back, his bum not irritating him, but rather spreading a feeling of warmth through his body. It only hurt a little, and he was quite disappointed.

Why had he broken away? He’d been dreaming of that situation all day. He hadn’t for a second expected it to happen, but it did.

That was it. He hadn’t been expecting it.

He hadn’t thought that Howard would notice for a second that the swat he’d been given in the morning had aroused him, and so to see him talking dirty and trying to be authoritarian had shocked him. He certainly hadn’t expected to be put over Howard’s knee and spanked like a Deep South schoolboy.

He’d apologise to Howard in the morning. That would be the best thing. In private. And them maybe Howard would scold him for being stupid, and tell him that next time he earned punishment he’d better take it. Then maybe he’d be bent over whatever was nearby, the sofa or Howard’s bed or whatever, and Howard might even take his jeans down, and then he’d carry on where he’d left off the night before. Then he’d really make Vince sting…

Maybe he should apologise now.

No. No, the morning would be best. He’d be more likely to get a slap in the face if he did it now, and that wasn’t as sexy.

Dreaming of increasingly risqué punishments, Vince drifted off to sleep.

When he got up, Howard was sitting in the living room, just staring into space, or so it seemed. Vince had planned his approach. He knew about apologies, whether real or faked out of necessity, and the best thing to do was to appear very meek so you’d be more readily forgiven and in a better position to get what you want.

Although a bare-arsed spanking is an unusual thing to want, but Vince didn’t have the time now to think up an alternative approach.

“Howard,” he said quietly, making sure to keep his head down but give eye contact when Howard turned.

“What?” Howard’s voice was stern and annoyed, and his face was still irate.

“I’m sorry about last night,” said Vince. “I wasn’t expecting it. I got scared.”

He saw Howard’s face soften. Score! cried his internal cheerleading squad. Howard patted the seat next to him and Vince sat down. Howard smiled and opened his arms. “Come here.”

Vince accepted Howard’s embrace and cuddled him tightly, whilst all the time trying to manoeuvre his behind into Howard’s hands.

“Vincey,” chided Howard, pulling Vince forward onto his back to cradle him. “If you want another spanking like that, you’d better do something to deserve it.”

Read the sequel: If You Were Mine.

Thingogram
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