bits and pieces of a story. Its gay/forced ageplay/dark ageplay/diapering etc. An older male (35) takes on a younger male (like, 24) and the younger male is kinda petite (5'5") and the older one is massive (6'7") and this isn't intended to imply "childish" characteristics, but it makes it a lot easier when the dom is trying to rough up the younger one and diaper him and stuff.
I'd like to post a portion of it here. Comments/suggestions welcomed and encouraged.
This is the start of it. If you'd like to see more, let me know.
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"Give me the car keys" he beckoned, and I placed them in the palm of his open hand. He hung them rather loosely, up on the wall, where he knew I could snatch them promptly if I had truly wanted to. They dangled from the nail where the wooden paddle was hung previously.
"I want you to remove your pants. It will be you this time, and me, next time. If you keep up misbehaving." I stripped off my belt and unzipped and unbuttoned and climbed out.
"Hand it over." My belt, my pants, and my socks all went into the palm of his hand. He folded and arranged everything on the floor next to his feet.
"Now, come here." His tone was clear and he spoke with much conviction. As my feet guided me towards him, my head protested, and I stopped mid-way.
"I figured you'd already start being difficult." His hand smothered my wrist with a shocking amount of grip and jerked me forward. I don't think, in my whole life, aside from childhood, I had been grabbed this hard. A red ghost of his gripping hand faded into view, and the whole shock of the situation made me feel like a hapless child. Being grabbed and jolted towards him like that. I was turning away from him, but in immediate response, he heaved me up by my waist and had me immediately in his lap.
"LIE DOWN! LIE DOWN, NOW!" He wrangled my wrist to the small of my back and it felt as if it my shoulder was hinging right out of my socket. Mentally, I feel as though decades were scraped from my memory and I was in the palm of my parents' angry hands again. Loud smacks flared into my ear drums before the pain even registered. It was a kind of pain that blinded you.
Before I even knew it, he hauled me over his knee and began to crash his palm into the seat of my blushing bottom. Now, I have been punched. I have been poked and scolded and in car accidents and bar fights. But none of these painful events get under your skin quite like a spanking does. A punch is a warm thud that is barely felt over the buzzing adrenaline when someone goes to check you. A car crash is so quick and jarring that you barely notice any damage you took until you're picking shards of glass out of your elbow. But this pain was something different. This pain flared to life in a matter of seconds before it became intolerable. Like a burn under scalding water.
Fingers of heat and impatience climbed my back and made me crawl my leg up in an attempt to escape. That's when I felt my wrist being drawn further in, and a fearsome weight of pain smothered my side where he immobilized me.
Through gritted teeth, I upturned my head the best I could and asked him with a bit of a jeering tone, "you're really mad, aren't you?"
His hand took a break from tanning my hide to come around to the front of my face and clasp across my chin. He clenched my cheeks in his grip and jiggled my smashed face as he spoke.
"You shut this little mouth! You shut this little mouth, RIGHT NOW! Do ya get me? It can be much worse for you. Trust me. I can make this so much worse for you." And an agonizing buzz of pain stung across my face. He had just slapped me with the same force he had tended to with my bottom. The buzz caused some reflex tears to spring into my eyes. My sense of smell had mutated and dimmed as my surroundings smeared within the ridges of my blurry vision. He was clenching my mouth with his crushing hand and carrying on about how much of an insolent child I was. And how I wasn't behaving like one; I simply was one, and under his roof and under his rules, I'll be treated like one. I heard words like "bedtime" and "curfew" and "loss of privileges". As he spoke, he drew my elbow further in and my arm vanished within the outline of the white-hot pain. I thought for sure my arm was broken, and when his hand smacked me squarely across the mouth and injured my sense of smell, the reflex tears had turned into something else.