DISCIPLINE
Word count: 1,435
Smut, plain and simple

Discipline.

How could one simple word have brought him to this? Z found himself wondering as he felt the sting of leather on his bare backside. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. His body jerked back, the restraints at his arms and legs biting into this flesh. Once he had gotten over the initial shock of the amazing, and disturbingly, equipped dungeon in Schloss Eberbach, he had actually gotten into the sessions. For this one, he had elected to be bound to the upright "I" rather than allow himself to be suspended from the ceiling.

He thought he'd made an intelligent choice. Then his arms were pulled straight out and lashed to the top crossbeam at his wrists and forearms. This was followed by his legs being spread, the ankles lashed to the lower crossbeam. After this, the Major brought out the strap, going on to blindfold the now helpless Z, who found himself rethinking his decision much too late.

Truth be told, Z recalled that he had often found himself rethinking his decision every time he descended into the lower level of the Schloss and then over the next several hours that followed as he was "disciplined" by the Major. In the end, however, he found himself wanting more, counting the days until he could return to this secret place.

"You're soft!" the Major barked, swinging the strap to make contact with Z's ass and returning him to reality with a sharp, stinging pain.

"Yes, sir!" Z replied loudly, his body jerking back, straining at his bindings again.

"How many times?"

"Fifteen strokes, sir!"

"Correct."

Z waited. He could feel his fingernails biting into the palms of his hands as he waited for the next sting of the lash.

And waited.

And waited.

He could hear the Major moving behind him, the heels of his stiff leather boots unmistakable on the concrete floor. The anticipation of what he might be planning next was incredibly arousing, and Z's breathing grew faster, as did his heart rate.

"Do you think you can free yourself, Z?" came the Major's calm, taunting inquiry.

Z felt his heart jump even more. Before he could reply, his mouth was sealed with tape. This was his signal and he struggled fiercely in an attempt to fight it off. He did not succeed, of course. Then he fought against his bindings. Sometimes he was bound in a way that he could escape, sometimes not. The fact that he never knew which way things would go just heightened the experience. Of course, either way, escape or not, he would be disciplined by the Major afterward.

As it turned out, this was a time Z could not free himself, despite his desperate struggles to do so. He had no idea how long he was allowed to fight his bindings while the Major watched in silence.

"You're pathetic," the Major said in a low growl. A moment later, his hands were grasping Z's still pink and swollen ass cheeks.

Z drew a deep breath, his back arching as slick fingers suddenly probed deep inside him, opening him, preparing him for entry. He continued to struggle as this was done. Then the fingers were replaced by the Major's sizeable cock, and Z responded with a loud moan, his back arching automatically. As the Major pounded into him, he continued to struggle, knowing how his helpless thrashing would spur the man on. He was rewarded with harder, faster strokes. The only sounds he could make were the loud grunts that rose in his throat, which also spurred the Major on.

Z had always been amazed at the Major's stamina, first in the field, and then later in these "discipline" sessions. The man was a machine, able to go on for several very long minutes before finally climaxing without any external aids. If he wore a cock ring, Z knew he was in for several hours of excruciatingly, and delicious, sex.

This was not one of those times, and the Major came with a loud, guttural moan that started deep in his throat.

Z drew a sharp breath when the Major abruptly took hold of his own straining erection. When the hand did not move, a whine of frustration rose in his throat. He had to fight to remain still. Discipline. Ha! Torture more like. The Major would remain this way anywhere from a full minute to up to half an hour before his hand started to move, the signal to Z that his frustrating wait was over and release was forthcoming.

When the hand did move, Z was helpless to move his hips more than a few inches. He was at the Major's mercy, and it was so incredibly arousing. Allowing him to let go completely and just revel in the sensations.

The hand continued in its steady strokes until Z could hold back no longer. He threw his head back, a loud moan of pleasure rising in his throat. The hand continued to milk him of every drop as he ejaculated. Then he went limp, feeling completely exhausted.

Z didn't know how long he hung limply in his bonds before his feet were released. Then the bindings on his arms were removed and he was led, still gagged and blindfolded, to a chair. His hands were pulled behind him and tied together and then to chair. His feet were also bound, one to each chair leg, spreading his legs slightly open, leaving his genitals fully accessible.

Z remained unmoving as he was tied into place, still catching his breath from before. Again, anticipation of what was to come started to play at his senses. All thoughts of how he had gotten himself into this having been replaced with raw lust when the blindfold was removed and he found himself confronted with the Major's enormous cock. Again he felt his heart rate jump, his eyes widening as the Major slowly cleaned himself off.

Z tried not to squirm in the chair and irritate his abused ass. Discipline. Always discipline, which was definitely necessary as the Major's ministrations to himself brought his sizeable member to an enormous erection.

"You know what to do," the Major said as he removed the tape sealing Z's mouth.

Z nodded, drinking in the man's musky scent as his head was forced down to the man's groin. He took the erect cock into his mouth, sucking and licking for all he was worth while the Major responded with the most incredible groans of pleasure.

It had taken considerable time and effort for Z to properly learn the art of deep throating the man's considerable endowments. The first few times, he thought he would choke, and had actually thrown up. This earned him stern reprimands, and further disciplinary actions by the Major.

Now Z was an expert in the art. His head bobbed up and down, the Major's hands on either side of his head, guiding at first, and then just holding on until he finally came, ejaculating into Z's mouth. Z only paused when this happened before going on to milk the man of every drop. Then the cock was removed from his mouth.

Z stayed leaning forward, his head down. He waited for the Major to step back. He was actually surprised when he did not, his fingers gently running through his hair. Moving to his back, sliding down as far as possible before reaching the chair the exhausted man was tied to and then moving back up again.

After a few minutes, the Major quietly asked, "Have you had enough?"

Z jerked up upon hearing this, turning his eyes upward. Enough. That was the safe word. Had they reached that point already? The set number of hours having passed. He thought a moment and then nodded. "Yes. Enough."

The Major nodded and then wordlessly untied Z from the chair. He helped him to his feet before gently kissing him on the mouth. "Shower or bath?" he asked.

Z replied immediately. "Bath." He gave the man a sideways look. "I need to soak some sore body parts."

The Major gave an amused snort, returning the sideways look. "That's your problem, Z. No discipline."

*  *  *  *  *

From: Mr_Money@cheepnet.co.uk
Date: Sunday, April 1, 2007
To: Teddybear@KGB_alumni.ru
Subject: Your story submission.

Dear Mr. Bear Cub,

Skinflint Publications is very proud to accept your story "Discipline" for the upcoming "Broken Hearts, Broken Promises" fanzine. Your pairing choice in this story is unusual, to say the least. It is also bloody hot.

Thank you,

Mr. James

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