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Even though the cold wind swept through Jisung’s lithe frame, he still felt the tell-tale itch of sweat at his hairline as he approached the tower.
Well, it wasn’t a tower. It was just a small addition to the main house that functioned as Minho’s office and sanctuary. But calling it a tower somehow seemed more accurate. After all, saying ‘I get spanked every week in Wing C’ didn’t explain his bad luck as well as ‘I get spanked every week at the Tower’ did.
They were both different. They were. But he was just procrastinating, rubbing his palms together as he stood outside the door. He didn’t want to go in. But he needed to get an appointment or there would be hell to pay and his ass didn’t have the strength to handle that. Not so soon anyway.
It was nearly 9 P.M. but Minho and Felix worked long hours. The late hour also meant people had long since gone to their rooms and there was less of a chance of running into someone. Someone who had heard about his recent punishment and looked at him with amusement or pity.
He huffed at the memory of a youngling stifling his smile when Jisung struggled to sit down today. As if he won’t ever have those days too. It was just that Jisung probably had many more of those days than any other disciple.
He wrapped a hand over the door handle and pushed it down. It swung back without a sound and Jisung stepped into the threshold, pleased. He had oiled the hinges with his concoction last week in an attempt to curry favour from Felix in the future. He was glad it was still holding up even though he could feel the pulse of ‘noeasy door’ hex underneath the gentle hum of his potion. Maybe he would have to oil it again.
He walked forward, the door swinging shut behind him. He took his coat off and hung it neatly on the coatrack before taking off his shoes and shoving his feet into slippers. Ideally, making an appointment shouldn’t require him to take his coat off or even come to the Tower. But Minho insisted on him taking the responsibility of scheduling his maintenance spankings, and Felix delighted in teasing him about his predicament. So there.
He walked slowly, every movement pulling at the tender skin of his glutes. But as he scaled the staircase, he was aware that something is wrong. Something was very wrong because the Tower is dead silent.
He swore under his breath and climbed the stairs two at a time, a droplet of sweat freely curving down his temple and jaw. He couldn’t have missed Felix. No way.
But Felix’s desk was empty. There was no gentle hum of music and there was no spillage of red, green and blue light from Felix’s fancy keyboard.
“Fuck,” he swore again and then whipped his head around to the ornate door at one end of the room. A light was on but the light above the door blazed red.
He was relieved. Minho was busy, thank God. Not that Minho cared about him swearing but he didn’t want him to come outside and investigate. Once, Minho had caught him yammering loudly with Felix when he came to make the appointment. He had cheerfully decided to execute his maintenance spanking right then and there, with the wooden ruler Felix kept on his desk.
(Why did he even have a foot ruler on his desk??)
So, he had spent the next eternity bent over Felix’s desk, kissing the wood as Minho left slash after slash of blazing pain on his ass and worse! on the tender undercurve of it too. Wait, even worse, he had made conversation with Felix while he did it, especially about how Jisung took his punishments.
“Quite noisy, this one,” Minho had laughed. “And only something wooden gets through to him.”
Felix, the little traitor, had levitated the ruler to his cottage with a note:
Keep it, Minho got a new one for you.
Btw, your perky ass looks much better when red ;)
He quickly removed his phone from his pocket and with another quick look at the door, he texted Felix
Jisung: Where are you???
I need to get an appt? hello??
Felix: Shit Jisungie, something came up :(
Sorry. can you block his calendar yourself?
password – v!eNuSs102526##)
Jisung: What kind of password is this?
Also!! he’s here!
Felix: Do it asap!
His calendar is already full cause of all those eastern province delegates.
He’s gonna want to know when it’s scheduled. He already asked about it today.
Jisung swallowed as he looked at the door again and then quickly sidled up to Felix’s desk, tapping on the keyboard. It woke up and he winced at the piercing light of the screen. He bent at the waist to type the mindfuck of a password. Why must Felix always torment him like this? As if he didn’t have enough to worry about already. Like Minho being just three feet away from him?
Password Incorrect
Jisung bit his tongue, trying to quell a curse. He re-typed the password, and tried his best to get juggle between the capital and special characters, while also trying to reduce the clacking of the ginormous keys. A drop of sweat splashed the edge of Felix’s desk.
He got the password right, at last. The desktop loaded and he clicked on the calendar app. It would be easier if he could sit but out of respect for his poor derriere, he bore the stitch in his lower back.
His heart sank as he observed the way most of Minho’s slots were booked for this week and the next. What little spots he had empty clashed with Jisung’s schedule. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was late. He should have planned ahead for the delegation visiting –
“If you’re trying to prank me by messing up my meetings again,” came a low wrathful voice.
Jisung flailed, losing his balance and hitting the meaty part of his thigh against the desk. “No!” he squeaked, and his eyes widened when he took in Minho standing on the other side of the desk. He was frowning and he narrowed his gaze at the laptop.
“Really, then why are you breaking into Felix’s computer when he’s not here?”
“I – I,” Jisung swallowed. Minho’s gaze had a very dangerous glint and he knew he had like four seconds to save himself and from the stinging curse Minho sometimes laced his implements with. “I was trying to book my slot for my…for our…weekly meetings. He wasn’t here so he told me to book it myself! I have proof!”
Minho stared at him for a beat, brows knitted together in confusion. Then a smirk unfurled on his face. “Oh? And what is this weekly meeting we have, Jisung?”
Now Jisung was confused. Why was Minho even asking when he was the one who insisted on the –
Oh.
Jisung’s face burned and there was embarrassment creeping into his belly. He stared at Minho, hoping he would let it drop. Minho just continued staring, one eyebrow rising at the arch at Jisung’s continued silence.
“Jisung?”
“Main-maintenance s-spank- spanking,” he said. His voice was wobbling and his eyes shook.
Minho smiled, all teeth. “Well, let’s get to it then. I don’t have much time. This week or the next.”
He hated waiting. He hated it.
Since Minho also knew this, Jisung spent a lot of time waiting. He pressed his face on the towel, trying to dry his tell-tale tears.
He always cried during punishments which was expected since Minho was ruthless. But he tore up even before a spanking, on just assuming position, and he hated the way –
“Your cheeks are still red,” Minho commented from behind him, making him jump. When had he left his desk? He jumped again when Minho pressed the cold wood of the ruler under his cheek and pushed upwards, exposing his sit spot. Jisung buried his face on the towel, cheeks – his facial cheeks – burning so much that he felt dizzy. “It’s the deepest shade here.”
Jisung tried not to whimper as memories from three days ago surfaced in his mind. Minho had tipped him forward, till his nose was nearly brushing the ground. Then came an eternity of fire and tears as Minho concentrated on the same patch of skin for at least five-six swats with the paddle before moving on. He had lost all semblance of pride then, openly crying in front of his arch nemesis.
Jisung yelped when Minho tapped the ruler against his ass. “I asked you a question, Hannie.”
Wow, way to get yourself into trouble, Han Jisung. He cringed and hissed when the ruler comes down with a sharp thwack. He bit his lips as the brimming tears in his eyes spilled over. Great, they haven’t even started yet.
“It’s like you have a talent for making things worse for yourself,” Minho commented as Jisung braced himself for another hit. “Like how you got yourself a paddling of a lifetime just three days ago because you refused to let things go.”
“I,” Jisung begun but stopped himself. Anger simmered underneath his skin but he kept silent, trying to keep his indignation at bay. “Sorry.” He winced when the ruler taps against his ass again, right over the fresh, searing spot.
“It would be better to pay attention, Hannie. Or it’ll be a month before you sit.”
“Yes... yes, Minho hyung,” Jisung scrambled to say.
There was a pause. Jisung sniffled and shifted his weight, trying to get relief from the deep-seated ache and was unable to find it. He stilled when he heard Minho shift behind him.
“I asked if I should just use my hand today because your cheeks are as red as a siren,” Minho said, voice breaking into a chuckle towards the end.
Jisung was babbling before his synapses can even fire. “Oh...please, please! yes, hyung! I’ll be good! I’ve learned my lesson. You’re the absolute best —ow!”
“Enough, no flattery,” Minho chided, slapping his hand down on Jisung’s other cheek.
Jisung yelped again. The slap was… so light. Extremely light by Minho’s standards because he had hands like steel. Thin and calloused with veins snaking up his forearm and Jisung hissed as another smack echoed in the room, snuffing out the spark of heat in his belly. It fell again, so light that it just bounced off his sore skin, leaving the flesh to jiggle in its wake.
“Okay, we’re done,” said Minho.
It took a minute for Jisung to untangle the simmering pain in his ass and his confusion, and register Minho’s words. “Wh-huh?” he asked, succinctly.
Minho chuckled, and patted Jisung’s ass. “What did I just say about listening?”
“I did listen! I’m just...we’re done? Really?”
Jisung heard Minho shuffling and a moment later, the couch dipped under his weight. “Do you want me to continue?” he asked. Jisung tipped his head up to look at him and felt a deep flush warm his neck when he saw Minho’s smirk.
“N—no,” he squeaked, blushing deeper when Minho’s smirk widened, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I’m good.”
“That’s what I thought,” Minho said, casually turning his head away.
Jisung stared at his side profile for a moment, wondering. His stomach fizzed, turning on itself and quivering by turns. He straightened up slowly and turned to pull up his briefs. He plucked his joggers up from the footstool and once dressed, made a beeline outside the room and to the bathroom.
Minho was never lenient. At least, not with him.
The very first time Minho had punished him, it had been just three months into Jisung’s stint as mage in the commune. Over time, Jisung had began chaffing against his daily task of walking around the expansive borders, and writing reports on its strength and noting down any discrepancy.
Only there was never any discrepancy because they were one of the largest communes around and hadn’t had any skirmishes in a good twenty-years. So he had made a bet with Hyunjin and had sneaking in jokes and bawdy lyrics in his notes to prove that no one read it.
Except, a young warlock was reading those reports. And he was pissed. Pissed enough to haul him from the dormitory he lived in back then to the Tower, and paddle him.
Jisung had also met Chan that day. You know, the next leader of the commune. He had counseled a sobbing Jisung about his stupidity. He had been so glad for that bit of kindness, only to find out that Chan had put Minho in charge of his discipline and decorum.
Sometimes, Jisung wondered why he had bothered joining a coven which still practised old ways of discipline and decorum. Especially when he had heard stories about how strict and intimidating some of the warlocks were.
Like he was saying, Minho was one of them. Even when he had fought with Hajoon the other day, Minho didn’t even wait for Jisung to affirm he would count before the paddle cracked down hard on his cheek. The sound Jisung made was entirely without his volition because it hurt like a bitch. But Minho was just starting off because the next set of swats ignited his behind so fast that he didn’t have the capacity to keep track.
“Didn’t I tell you to count, Jisung?” Minho had said, voice cool and eerie.
Jisung didn’t remember much after that except that he was rocked forward with every swat. They had all reverberated through his spine like a shockwave. He was chanting numbers like a prayer, hoping to find his way to the end of the punishment.
He stood in front of the mirror, unsure. His eyes were tired and his face blotchy. His hair was a mess. He hesitated in front of the mirror, debating whether to check his ass. Was it so bad that it was making Minho lenient? It couldn’t be, because he had just salved himself in the afternoon. Not that the salves worked all that well against implements infused with magic as the paddle definitely was.
In the end, he just decided to take the win and stop cribbing.
Usually, after his punishments he was expected to go back and see if there was a second part to his punishment and for a cool down. He carried the same rule forward to his maintenance spanking and slowly entered the study again.
Nerves flitted in his belly. It wasn’t because he expected a second punishment since it rarely happened with maintenance spankings. It was because of the cool-down because it meant being close to Minho.
Look, Jisung was just a guy. And Minho was hot as hell even if he was stuck-up and a stickler for decorum. Especially when he was sweet and heaven-forbid, tender.
Minho was frowning at a book when Jisung entered but he put it on the coffee table once he saw Jisung hovering near the couch. Jisung was never convinced he could just ask for affection, so his go-to strategy was to exist till Minho noticed him.
“Come here,” Minho patted the space next to him on the couch. He laughed when he saw Jisung’s expression. “I’ve softened the cushion further. It shouldn’t hurt a lot.”
Minho didn’t understand how much putting any weight on his ass hurt after a paddling, no matter how soft the seat was. But he sat down anyway, keeping a respectable distance between him and Minho. He kept his eyes trained on the table, too embarrassed to look at Minho.
“I complained about Hajoon to his warlock.” Minho wrapped his arm around Jisung’s shoulder.
Jisung nearly pulled a muscle with the force with which he turned to face Minho. “You did?”
“Yes,” Minho nodded, “I told him that Hajoon was antagonizing you and insulting you. He had a good record so he didn’t get punished but he did get a warning. You could’ve done that instead of hexing him and gluing his hands together,” Minho said, pulling him closer.
“Y-yeah,” Jisung mumbled, half dazed because Minho’s scent was overwhelming this close and also because he had stood up for him. Had listened to him ramble about what Hajoon had said before he had pulled Jisung over his lap to punish him. “I know.”
“But you still did it anyway,” Minho snorted. “I won’t go easy on you next time, you know,” he added, every trace of amusement vanishing from his voice.
Jisung stiffened.
“You really won’t be able to sit for a month,” Minho continued, still serious, though he squeezed Jisung closer still. Jisung’s thigh was pressed against his and he didn't know how to breathe.
“Yes – yes, sir,” Jisung said, words thick.
“Good,” Minho said. His sternness cleared in a snap of fingers. “Just tell me if Hajoon or someone else is bothering you. I don’t just have to stop you from being a nuisance, I need to stop others too.”
Jisung laughed weakly, heart thundering in his chest. It wasn’t often that someone other than Felix showed him such support. Especially not warlocks. Especially not high-ranking warlocks like Minho who had a reputation for being sticklers for rules.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “It means a lot, hyung ah,” he said and then bit his tongue hard enough to hurt. He hated the way he slipped into childish endearments.
Minho didn’t seem to notice. All he said was, “of course, Hannie.”