Archive: M_A, Rising Force, GiffStein Productions, all others
simply ask first
Feedback: By all means!
Disclaimer: George's boys, but I bet George thinks m/m spanking
leads to the Dark Side. I don't, so I borrowed them for
non-profit purposes.
Summary: Qui-Gon's Padawan lover needs to be taken firmly in
hand.
Notes: I do a one-line snippet and suddenly everyone wants a
story. :-) So this is for everyone who asked, especially DBKate
('cause she asked first), Linda ('cause she begged and
pleaded), and Layna (who knows why).
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon Jinn said to his lover. "Is there any tea
left?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question. Qui-Gon was sitting in
his big chair reading through the pile of junk mail that
accumulated in his mail account during their last mission.
Obi-Wan was sprawled on the sofa, making his own notations to
Qui-Gon's mission report. The teapot was on the table in front
of Obi-Wan.
"Check it yourself," Obi-Wan said, without looking up.
Qui-Gon frowned slightly. It was most unlike his apprentice to
be so rude to him and he almost wondered if the young man was .
. . Of course he was. Ever since they'd become lovers six
months ago, Obi-Wan had been seen to be the perfect Padawan.
He'd drilled fanatically, whether on missions or at the Temple;
he'd done extra-credit projects in all his classes; hell, he'd
even volunteered to help take the 6-year-old Initiates on a
camping trip. It was his way of proving that he had no
intention of letting his relationship with his Master interfere
with his training.
But sometimes, in private, even perfection had to crack, and a
different side of the serious, dedicated Senior Padawan Obi-Wan
Kenobi would make its appearance.
"I beg your pardon?" Qui-Gon said, his voice quite mild.
"If you want to know if there's tea, get off your butt and
look. I'm trying to work here, while you scan the mail
for sex toy catalogs." Obi-Wan's voice was surly now and he
still hadn't looked up from his dataslate.
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said warningly. Obi-Wan didn't look up or
even acknowledge him.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are willfully ignoring your Master, to
whom you owe obedience," Qui-Gon said, using the soft deadly
voice that usually put the fear of the Sith into reluctant
students. He put his own dataslate down and flexed his hands
slightly.
"And if I am?"
Qui-Gon gestured and the dataslate in Obi-Wan's hands flew
across the room. "There is no 'if' involved, Padawan Kenobi.
You should know the answer to that."
Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes defiant. "I know the answer."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"You're just making this worse for yourself, Padawan."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes dramatically and moved off the sofa to
stroll, in a lazy feline fashion, over to Qui- Gon's chair.
Looking down at his Master's stern features obviously made him
decide to change tactics. "I'm sorry, love," he purred. "What
can I do to make it up to you?"
"Are you implying that you can ignore the courtesy and
obedience you owe me just because of our relationship, my young
Apprentice." Qui-Gon asked, wondering if he was laying it on a
little thickly. But no, this was how things had to go. "I have
always trusted you to do the right thing. I hope my trust was
not misplaced."
Obi-Wan sighed and stood up straight, hands clasped behind his
back. "Master, I deserve punishment,"
"For what, Padawan?"
"For my willful disobedience and my rudeness."
"And how should I punish you, Padawan?"
"Master, it is not my place to choose my punishment. I trust
you to do whatever you think necessary."
Ha! Qui-Gon thought privately. Of course you do.
Qui-Gon rose and moved to the sofa, Obi-Wan trailing silently
behind him. The Master sat down in the middle of the sofa and
looked up at his Padawan. And then he patted his lap. Obi-Wan
bit his lip, looking endearingly young for a moment, and then
his hands went to the drawstrings of his pants. Once undone, he
lowered the pants and his underwear until they reached the tops
of his boots. Then, with one wide-eyed look that Qui-Gon knew
was no act, he bent over his Master's lap.
Strange that he's so afraid and needs it so much, Qui-
Gon thought. Then again I guess it's strange that I like
doing it to him.
He moved Obi-Wan slightly, until the young man was centered on
his lap, his semi-erect penis brushing one of Qui-Gon's thighs.
"Why are you here, Padawan?"
"Because I was willful, rude, and disobeyed my Master. I am
here to be punished for those faults."
And with that, Qui-Gon drew his arm up and . . . smack .
. . his hand came down hard on Obi-Wan's bare ass. His palm,
callused from years of gripping a lightsaber hilt, stung
faintly, which meant that Obi-Wan must be feeling a fair amount
of pain right now. Four more hard smacks and he finally heard a
low moan from his victim.
Obi-Wan already felt like his ass was on fire. And he's only
at five. Another flaming slap to his ass and he squirmed
slightly. Ow! Another. Ow! Another. Damn!
He lost count somewhere around forty, and at that point, he was
yelling obscenities, babbling apologies, and sobbing. His cock
was diamond hard, and Qui-Gon had it clasped tightly between
his thighs, the soft fabric of his sleep pants abrading the
delicate satin skin. Obi- Wan was hurting, and humbled, and
desperately in need of release.
And the blows kept coming, one powerful slap after another.
Obi-Wan could feel his skin swelling up and knew he would not
only be red, but might also have bruises in the morning. It
hurt, oh Sith, it hurt, but he was close, so close.
Qui-Gon looked at his lover stretched out before him, ass
red/purple from a sound thrashing. He knew he could hardly
pretend that he was just doing this for Obi-Wan, not when his
cock was prodding his victim in the stomach. Each time he
smacked Obi-Wan, the resulting movement caused him to get even
harder. In fact, if he moved his hand, right there, to the
crease where buttock met thigh, the resultant wriggle was
incredible.
"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan yelled. "Oh fuck! I'm sorry." Qui- Gon had
moved to the most painful part, probably some of the most
sensitive skin he had. And it drove him into a frenzy of
squirming, yelling and sobbing. Occasionally, when he paused to
gasp for breath, he could hear his Master's breath, harsh and
panting from the strain. And not just the strain, Obi-Wan was
well aware of the cock his stomach was moving over. As for his
own erection, he wasn't sure it could take much more.
"So fucking close!" Obi-Wan yelled.
Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and called up the last reserves of
his strength. A solid rain of blows fell on the burning skin
below him. His mind reached out for Obi-Wan's, to touch, light
a spark and then . . .
Obi-Wan screamed, and came, pumping his cock between his
Master's thighs. At the same time, Qui-Gon yelled, and came all
over Obi-Wan's tunic. He slumped, turned slightly, and buried
his face in Obi-Wan's neck.
They remained like that for a moment or two and then Obi-Wan
drew a deep breath. "Please accept my sincere apologies for my
errors, Master."
"I do, Padawan."
Three hours later, Obi-Wan tied Qui-Gon, stomach down, to their
bed and teased him until he broke down and begged for release.
While his Master continued begging, the Padawan pounded him
into the mattress, fucking him so hard that both of them passed
out from their orgasms.
The next morning, Qui-Gon awoke to find a note saying that
Obi-Wan had gotten up early to help the gardeners trim the
labyrinth hedges. Qui-Gon sighed, smiling a little. His
Obi-Wan, the perfect Padawan for the legendary Qui-Gon Jinn. At
least until the next time carrying so many burdens overwhelmed
one or the other of them.
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