Dylan paced back and forth along the path that ran behind the large cabin where his pack had gathered. They always gathered here on the full moon, far away from their homes and office jobs and all the mundane bits of their lives. Here, they did not have to resist the call of their inner beasts, out in the wilderness where they were free to roam and hunt and scuffle and play. Of course today’s hunt hadn’t gone especially well. Not for Dylan.
Not long ago they’d been on the trail of something big, maybe an elk, noses to the ground as they pursued the animal, but Dylan had gotten distracted by another scent and had veered north. He’d felt a bit of strain against the bonds that tied him to his packmates as the distance between them grew, but he’d been so caught up in this new thrill– a rabbit, he thought, and he was sure he was close now– that he’d ignored it. He knew he was supposed to stay with his pack, knew part of the exercise here was to learn to control the Wolf, to learn to listen and obey the packleader, but the temptation to let his instincts take over was too inviting. He caught sight of his prey, and it was a rabbit, a large brown one and he was so close now, so close but then—
A howl pierced the cool autumn air and stopped him dead in his tracks. His Alpha was calling.
Dylan felt it in his chest as much as he heard it with his sharp wolf’s ears, and only then did he realize just how far he’d traveled and how thin the bonds that connected him felt at this distance. He turned and ran, full sprint, following his own trail back and dodging the ancient trees with ease. The rabbit hopped away, unaware of his luck.
~ ~ ~
And now he paced and waited, his giant paws leaving overlapping tracks in the dirt. He heard Colin’s footsteps long before the werewolf walked out from the canopy of the trees, followed closely by the other members of their pack. The Alpha had transformed— Dylan had felt that, too— and now stood on two legs and looked down at his wayward pup, hands on his hips. Dylan pointed his nose at the ground, knowing better than to make eye contact now. He was embarrassed to hear a low whine escape from his muzzle as he felt many gazes focus on him and the weight of their combined disapproval. He brought his great front paws forward and felt his rump rising as he tried to look as small and submissive as possible— not an easy task for such a beast, however small he might feel.
“Inside with you,” Colin said, his deep voice filled with authority. Dylan’s eyes darted upward, not at his leader but at the other werewolves, all surrounding their Alpha, a man who even in human form carried the magic of his status. The younger wolf turned, slinking toward the house and his room in it.
~ ~ ~
Dylan shifted a bit as he heard the others entering the house several minutes later. He’d hoped perhaps that Colin would send them back out, to finish the hunt perhaps, but he was completely out of luck for the day. He stood in a corner, bipedal once again and dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeved shirt with his hands joined behind his head. It was still several more minutes before the Alpha entered.
“Not a good showing out there, Dylan.” The younger wolf felt his body tensed as the springs of the bed behind him creaked with Colin’s weight. “You lost focus. When you lose focus, you lose control. When you lose control, you put yourself and your pack in danger.”
Dylan shifted again, growing sullen under the scolding. He’d stepped out of line, sure, but danger? They weren’t in danger. They were miles and miles from civilization, from humans, from any sort of danger.
“The danger is in the loss of control, Dylan,” his Alpha said evenly, as if responding to the other man’s thoughts. “Sometimes the consequences are large. Sometimes small. But the dice are thrown well before we know how things will go.”
Dylan felt his heartbeat quicken with the nearness of his impending punishment. He was young by preternatural standards– barely thirty years old– but nowhere near the youth of his appearance, which was that of a freshly graduated school boy. And he hadn’t grown up with the sort of discipline that his Alpha employed, the sort of discipline the older wolf believed in whole-heartedly at any age. Colin appeared to be in his mid-forties, fit and muscular, dressed now in his own pair of jeans and a flannel. In reality he was well over a century old, but the Change all but stopped the aging process.
“Come here, please,” the older werewolf said behind him, and Dylan slowly turned and walked to stand by his packleader’s knee. “Pants down.”
Face burning with embarrassment, Dylan did as he was told, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down to his knees before laying himself awkwardly across the wolf’s waiting lap. There was a familiar wave of surprise and humility as he felt his body being adjusted easily, first scooted forward and then pulled snugly over, his waist firmly encircled by Colin’s arm. He grabbed for a pillow to hold, then buried his face into it as he felt the heat from his alpha’s hand through the thin cotton of his underwear.
“You will learn not to ignore the call of the pack, the call of your leader,” the older wolf said as he patted his charge’s bottom. “You will learn to control the call of the Wolf.”
Then he lifted his large palm and brought it back down again with a loud smack. Dylan sucked in a breath at the impact, steeling himself for the many swats he knew would follow. Along with the pain he registered a sudden accompanying quiet, the brief silencing of chatter and movement outside of his door as the sound of his spanking reached many pairs of ears. The din started up again immediately, but the embarrassment remained acute as the boy struggled through his Alpha’s discipline.
Colin’s hands were large and worn, his pacing steady. Each swat pushed Dylan forward and he hated the sounds he made but could not stop them. Inside, his Wolf raged at the indignity. Outside, he squirmed and whimpered like a little boy.
“I know you heard me,” his Alpha said, and a shiver ran through Dylan’s body at the directness of the statement. “You heard me, and still you abandoned the hunt.”
The spanking became harder as Colin spoke, or perhaps it was Dylan’s imagination as he coped with the physical pain alongside the shame of his behavior. He grasped the pillow he held, desperately wishing for both the punishment and the lecture to be over and receiving naught for his troubles.
“You are lucky I did not flay you there in the woods, and next time I well might.” Dylan heard genuine contemplation in his packleader’s voice and groaned loudly. The werewolf shifted his leg slightly and his palm found the tops of Dylan’s thighs and the meatiest curve of his bottom. The boy threw a hand back, not foolish enough to attempt any cover but looking for help from his Alpha. Colin obliged, using his free hand to grasp the younger werewolf’s wrist, pulling it down and out of the way. “We have not survived this long undetected by being careless,” he continued, making no acknowledgement of Dylan’s struggle. “We will continue to survive this way. You will learn to obey me above all else, or will you forget what it is like to walk comfortably on two legs.”
Since the Transformation Dylan rarely felt powerless, always aware that he had a great beast inside him. Now, as Colin paused the spanking for the first and only time to slide the boy’s underwear down to his knees, Dylan felt completely asea. He was bare bottomed, restrained, and at the total mercy of the man spanking him. He wanted a set number, a timer, anything that might give him some indication of when this might all be over. All he had was a bruised ego and a backside that would soon be matching. He let out a long piercing howl, a release of his humiliation, his contrition, and at the end as his body went limp, his submission.
“Good boy,” his Alpha said over the continued sharp sounds of the spanking. Dylan’s bottom was visibly swollen now, and if Colin had paused for even a second he would have felt the heat radiating from the boy’s well-punished skin. Even with their rapid ability to heal, he knew that Dylan would feel this spanking for several days, but it was not enough for the packleader. He wanted the pup to dread the memory of his discipline, to respect it above all else, and it compelled him to continue even as the howl was replaced by wretched, sorrowful tears.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan choked out eventually, and even the beast inside him agreed now. Colin felt the Wolf submit as well, felt the tension of the entire pack bond ease with it, and was satisfied. He took stock of his work, spending some moments of concentration on imagined missed spots, and was finished.
Dylan slid off the bed and his Alpha’s lap the moment the spanking stopped, unable to abide being anywhere but on his knees in his current stay of fealty. He kept the weight off of his bottom as he placed his head in Colin’s lap and soaked up the feeling of his leader’s hands in his hair. His keen ears found focus on the Alpha’s heartbeat, strong and steady and calm next to his own erratic and racing pulse, as if the discipline of his pup had taken no effort at all.
They stayed like this for several minutes, until their breathing came in tandem and Dylan’s body had calmed. When he stood, it was with a visible wince and then a guileless glance over his own shoulder for a peek at his still bare behind. He flinched again, turning to catch his Alpha’s eyebrows shooting up in amusement, making him feel bashful though no longer ashamed. He waited for a nod of permission, then slowly pulled his jeans and underwear up, trying and failing to suppress a third tick but unable to keep from wincing again as he fastened the button.
“Thank you,” he said finally as Colin stood, and the older wolf ruffled his charge’s hair.
“You will do better,” he replied, sounding neither patronizing nor demanding. Dylan nodded, then shot an apprehensive glance at the door. His Alpha smiled and said, “They’ve heard you spanked before, pup. And all have had a time over my knee at one point or another, and most will find themselves there again one day. It is only a matter of time, and we wolves have lots of time.”
Dylan nodded again, more to himself than anything else, and reached for the door handle.