No Parties

Silas’s ship was sunk, but he didn’t know it yet. John had to summon all of his patience as the kid sat there and yes sir’d him, knowing the pop star had every intention of disobeying the rules he was pretending to agree to. He wasn’t even being clever about it; he’d practically charged a liquor store to his management’s account. It had been flagged immediately, and it hadn’t taken John long from there to figure out the details of Silas’s party planning. Now here he was, lying through his teeth, as if his sudden increase in manners wouldn’t have alerted John to something anyway, while the bodyguard gave him every opportunity to come clean.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I really wish you’d made some different choices here, Sy.”

“What are you talking about?” the singer asked. He was sitting on the couch of their latest presidential suite, here in the middle of a long weekend of shows. His sister was at an event and just the two of them were there at the moment.  “I told you, I get it, no fun allowed, zero fun. What else do you want from me? I’m supposed to see my trainer in like half an hour.”

“We won’t need half an hour,” John said, leaning forward in the armchair where he currently rested. “You’ll make it to the gym. But first you need to tell your friends that the party is canceled tonight. And before that, you and I need to talk about lying.”

“Dude I’m not lying!” Silas practically shouted, his eyes wide and tone incredulous as panic descended.

John shook his head, not surprised but still amazed by the ability of the perpetually spoiled to convince themselves of their cleverness. He wasn’t interested in explaining to Silas what they both already knew. “You are lying. And if there is a next time, I will wash your mouth out with a fresh bar of hotel soap. You can be grateful that this time you’ll only be getting a spanking.”

The older man watched as many different emotions– none of them gratitude– flickered across the boy’s face. Silas hadn’t been nearly as combative as his sister since John’s abrupt entrance into their lives, but John had been doing this long enough to know better than to believe one sore bottom could undo a lifetime of rotten. Two wouldn’t fix it either, but it was a start.

“You can’t prove anything,” Silas said, voice rising in tenor as he searched for any sort of moral high ground.

He stood when John stood. He looked ready to bolt but seemed unable to move, and John didn’t want to give the kid a chance to make any more bad decisions. “I believe I will wait for you to confess,” he said dryly before taking a seat on the now empty couch.

In a matter of seconds he had pulled the young man down over his lap, breaking the spell that had kept him frozen; Silas began to struggle the moment he landed belly down across John’s thighs. This did little more than annoy the bodyguard, who had no trouble securing his flailing limbs before bringing his large hand down hard across the kid’s now upturned bottom. Silas shrieked, but John’s hand descended again and again until he was sure that beneath the designer jeans there was a backside already turning warm from the attention.

After the fourth or fifth rendition of “I didn’t do anything!” from the brat on his lap, John decided it was time to move forward with the punishment. The first time he’d spanked him, John had stripped the boy of his pants quickly and with some resistance. This time, he stopped spanking and paused, resting his arms across the kid’s back before speaking.

“You’re in deep enough as it is, Sy. You want to keep hollering? Keep hollering.” Now he pulled the star up, looking right into his eyes as he spoke. “But you’re in deep enough. You want to keep these restrictions indefinitely? Keep acting the way you’re acting. Keep refusing to take responsibility for your choices.”

Silas’s hands had gone to his backside, where they now rested in perfect accompaniment to the sulky expression on his face, but he didn’t say anything so John continued.

“You thought you were going to get away with something. But you didn’t, and now you’re starting to feel the consequences. Just starting. And I expect you’ll be feeling them for several days after this.” As he said this last part, John reached up to undo the button of Silas’s jeans, ignoring the boy’s squeak when he abruptly jerked them down.

This time he didn’t move to tug on his wrist or pull him back down. Instead, John patted his lap, maintaining eye contact and waiting expectantly. Silas, with his bottom already throbbing and hobbled by the pants around his knees, didn’t see a lot of other options, which is what John had hoped. Reluctantly and with some awkwardness, he settled himself back across his bodyguard’s knee.

“Good boy,” John said, and he meant it, but it didn’t slow his hand as he resumed the spanking and the fleeting obedience didn’t keep Silas from crying out from the first swat and throwing his hand back in a futile act of resistance.

John scooped it up as he had before, keeping it easily out of harm’s way as he maintained a steady cadence. It wasn’t in Silas to remain quiet, but with no hope for a denial and too self-absorbed to have considered apologizing just yet, it amounted to an unintelligible jumble of shrieks and groans to accompany the loud smack of John’s palm on his backside. The bodyguard watched as evidence of his work became increasingly visible even with the boy’s yellow briefs still offering some protection. He let his hand find Silas’s sit-spots and the tops of his thighs with some frequency as well, making good on the promise that this spanking would be felt long after it was over.

Silas was already on the verge of tears before John paused to relieve him of his underwear; the first smack to his bare bottom broke the last barrier to tears. His voice cracked and his struggles increased, both encouraging John to change absolutely nothing. He knew there were many such sessions in the spoiled star’s future, but he intended every single one of them to be memorable. He kept spanking until he finally heard the first hiccupped “I’m sorry” from the star’s lips, close enough to a confession for him, and then increased the force behind the spanking enough to pitch his body forward with the impact.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said over the increased wailing. “Next time, do as you’re told before I have to make you sorry. And I will make you sorry every single time.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a series of hard swats to the kid’s sit-spots, eliciting more loud cries, then returned his attention to Silas’s bottom and slowly tapering off, then ending the spanking.

Again he paused, resting his arms and gazing with approval at the swollen and well-punished bottom over his knee as he spoke. “You’ve got an appointment to get to now, but you still owe me some time in the corner. I expect you have a lot to think about.”

A sob shook Silas’s body as he choked out, “I don’t want to go to the gym!”

John understood why, but he responded with half a dozen more quick swats that sent Silas scrambling with surprise and desperation, then said in the ensuing quiet, “You don’t get to cancel on your obligations because you got yourself spanked. You’ll keep your appointment, you will come immediately back to the room, and then you’ll stand in the corner until I tell you otherwise. Is that understood?”

There was almost a full minute where Silas didn’t respond except to sniffle pitifully at the carpet, almost long enough for John to start spanking him again, but then came a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

“Louder, please. I want to make sure we are completely clear,” the bodyguard responded, unwilling to give him an inch.

“Yes, sir,” came the almost immediate reply, which satisfied John enough that he pulled the boy up to stand again and then pulled his jeans up and back into place. He wasn’t rough about it, but the scrape of denim against Silas’s rear sent fresh tears down the chaotic tracks that patterned the pop star’s cheeks. As John stood, Silas moved his hands to his bottom unselfconsciously but kept his gaze on the floor.

John tipped his chin up and scanned his watery eyes, then said, “Go get ready. I’ll walk with you down to the gym.”

Silas nodded, then added a quick “yes sir” at John’s expression. John nodded back, satisfied, and allowed the boy to go change. He shook his head at the retreating figure, allowing the smallest bit of sympathy for what a work out was going to feel like after a blistering like that. Then he shrugged– oh, well, he thought to himself– and went to his own bedroom to get ready to go out.