Viggo takes a spanking.
The belt draws tight across Viggo’s wrists, pressing them tightly together, and in just one motion, Ford has Viggo across his lap, using the tongue of the belt to hold him in place. Viggo can hear the fabric of his trousers tear as Ford roughly pulls them down, and Viggo presses his lips together, pressing his forehead against his arms.
“You ready?” Ford asks.
Viggo doesn’t answer, steeling himself and waiting for it to come, because he asked for it, and he does want it, but somehow now it’s happening he can’t keep talking about it, can’t ask for it, is too fucking ashamed, too humiliated. His ass feels a little cool as it’s exposed to the air – or it does, for half a second, before Ford brings his hand down hard against his right ass cheek and makes Viggo yelp at the sudden sharp sound of it, the stinging hot plain of the clap, the way it shoves him forward over Ford’s lap. His dick rubs over Ford’s thigh and it feels good, but somehow that’s not as good as the hot pain of Ford’s next slap against his other cheek, or the next one, or the next one.
Ford brings his hand down in a flurry of rough, hard blows, each one layered on top of the other and adding more heat to the pain. He’s glad his wrists are bound together because it takes off the pressure of where to put his hands, what to do with them, and he can concentrate more on Ford’s hands – the right hand slamming down against his buttocks on each side, roughly under his thighs and making his ass jiggle, and the left one gripping at the back of his neck, holding him steady.
“Slut,” Ford says just before slamming his hand down hard, catching the back of Viggo’s balls and making him yelp in pain and at the same time, it’s fucking good, the pain stinging and hot and rushing up his spine, through his cock. He can’t help but squirm in his place, muffling his whines into his forearms and spreading his legs wider, which makes Ford laugh.
He grabs Viggo by the balls and squeezes tightly, and the pain makes Viggo squeal and arch over Ford’s lap, because the pain is good, feels fucking good, it makes his cock ache, makes his skin feel hot and flushed all over. He’s gasping in desperate little breaths, and he feels like he could come easily like this, but he doesn’t want to right away, he wants it to last, wants it to—
Ford smacks him hard on the tender, soft flesh on the inside of his right thigh, making Viggo whine as he jumps, and Ford laughs again, then starts up the regular slaps again.
Viggo feels like his ass cheeks must be fucking glowing red, and there’s no end in sight.
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