Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Ouch

                                                              
                                                                     
I came home a week early from the medical conference. I was supposed to be gone
two weeks but the building we were in had an unexpected problem. A water line
had exploded in the basement and it was going to take about a week or two to
fix. We were rescheduled to come back at another time to finish.

When I walked into the house my boy was in a white t-shirt that was too big and
shorts.

"C'mere," I said as I grabbed his hand and pulled him close to me. Kissing him
hard, I pushed him up against the wall. Like I said I'd been gone a week; and
week without my boy was way too long.
He kissed me back just as passionately.

My hands roamed his body and found the end of his shirt. Before he could take a
full breath, I had it off. Capturing his mouth again, my thumbs raked over his
nipples and tugged the nipple ring he wore. He moaned as my mouth moved to his
neck. I sucked at the point right below his ear, where I knew it would drive
him wild. As he quivered, my other hand gently roamed his body and found the
waistband of his shorts. With one quick jerk, they were slid to the floor.
`Commando,' I thought as I pressed him into the wall. `That's new for him.' 
When I touched his balls, he jumped as if I'd slapped him. The sound that came
from him was not pleasure but pure pain. He shoved me away from him, causing me
to stumble backwards.

"What the hell?" I asked in surprise.

"Sorry, it hurts," My boy told me with tears running down his cheeks. He tried
to push away from me, but with his shorts around his ankles he stumbled. He hit
the floor before I could catch him. At his blood curdling scream, I dropped to
my knees and grabbed my boy.

Even in my arms, he rocked back and forth and moaned, "It hurts. Oh fuck, it
hurts."

Any thoughts of sex I'd had flew right out the widow.

"Babe what hurts?" I asked.

He shook his head but didn't say anything.

He cried out as I gave his bare hip a firm smack.

"What hurts?" I asked again, ignoring his pitiful look.

"My spot," He said.

"Your spot?" I asked confused. I have heard him call it a lot of things but "my
spot" was never one of them. He rolled over and buried his face into my folded
legs and whimpered. "Ok. Up you get," I said. Picking him up, I carried him
into the kitchen and laid him on the table.

"Doc! We eat on this." He said and tried to get up.

As soon as I gave his ass another swat, he stopped.

"Open your legs." I ordered.

He shook his head instead of following my demand. Swatting him harder only made
him lock his knees together more tightly.
"Fine. We play hard ball," I said. I went to the drawer that was our catch
all, and found the only thing that my boy will scream and run from.

I held out the flat wooden spoon and waved it at him. His eyes grew huge. But
with the threat, he slowly opened his legs for me to see what the hell was
hurting him so bad.

At first I couldn't see what was wrong. His cock and his scrotum look fine. At
my look of bafflement, he very carefully lifted up his sack. There at the spot
right under his sack, he was red and swollen. Sure signs of infection.

"Riley! Why the hell would you want that pierced?" I asked him. It was hot to
the touch, and my boy almost jumped off the table when I gently ran my hand over
the area.

"I was told it's called a pleasure piercing. That when your partner plays with
it; your climax will be out of this world." He said, keeping his eyes firmly on
the ceiling.

"Boy, if you have to add something to your body to have an amazing climax during
sex then I am doing something wrong." I started to give him a sharp slap to the
inner thigh, but since we'd be making a trip to the ER, I didn't want any marks
on him that would cause anymore embarrassment than he would already have.

"Get your shorts on." I ordered. As he hobbled away from me, I saw the red hand
prints from the earlier swats were starting to fade. I hoped to shout by the
time we got seen by the ER doctor they would be gone.

Once in the emergency unit, the wait was unbearable for my boy. He was up and
down scrumming around like a five year old. Even though they knew me, it cut no
ice. He was not an emergency patient so he could wait. Finally after hours, he
sat down and laid his head on my shoulder.

He let out a sigh, and said, "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. We'll work it out." I pulled him into a hug; the waiting room was all
but empty.

"Riley Richardson." A nurse finally called from the double doors. As we walked
toward her, she step back and let us in. "Sorry for the wait, but we had a few
GS come in. We were all busy," She said.

"GS, huh?" My boy asked me.

"Gun Shots," I explained.


"Ok, now what's seems to be the problem," She asked him. I'd never seen anyone
turn so red, so fast.

"You tell her," He pleaded.

I told her what was going on using medical lingo hoping it wouldn't sound as
bad. She just smiled, handed us a sheet, and gave the standard, "Everything off
from the waist down."

"Yes ma'am," Riley said. After the nurse left, I help him get his shorts off
and lay on the gurney. Just as I covered his legs, there was a tap on the door
and an older man walked in.

"Robert, it's been a long time," He said looking at me.

`Oh god,' I thought when I looked up and saw Dr. Peters. He was a little
know-it-all, and a pompous ass back in one of our surgical classes.

"Hello, Dr Peters," I said as I held out my hand.

"Now who's this?" He asked shaking my hand.

"My partner, Riley," I said shortly.

"So, what's seems to be the problem tonight?" He asked.
He only gave me a look, and then smiled as I repeated what I'd told the nurse.
After a brief examination, he turned to me and said, "As you know, it is
infected and swollen."

`No shit,' I thought but asked aloud, "Can it be taken out?" In his pompous way
he gave an explanation only another health professional would understand of why
it couldn't be removed. After writing out a prescription for antibiotics, he
left the room.

"What did he say?" My boy asked.

"Long explanation short, you're extremely swollen and infected. If we remove it
now, the end of the ring could scrap the inside and cause more problems. So it
stays there until the swelling goes away; that should be another week or two. So
my sweet boy, no sex, or playing of any kind until it is healed." I told him.

"Sorry, they told me it would get sore, and it would be healed within two
weeks." He said with tears in his voice.

"So you did this the day I left?" I asked him. He nodded yes.
All my thoughts went out the door when the nurse came in holding a small tray. I
knew what was going to happen. I also knew my boy was not going to be happy.
Half an hour later we were on our way home, my boy was half asleep from the shot
of pain medication. He was all the way out by the time we go home.

I carried him to our bedroom and laid him on the bed. I stripped my own clothes
off and climbed in beside him. Once in bed, I pulled him close to me. He rolled
over and placed his leg over my hip.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear and then went back to sleep.

"I love you too, brat. But you will not like what's coming," I whispered to my
sleeping brat.

Our own primary care doctor laughed when I called the next day to make a follow
up appointment. It was decided that in order to keep the infection under
control, he would see Riley every three days.
When Riley told his doctor that he'd actually had one of his buddies' brothers
do it at home and not in a shop, I almost lost it there. I got a look from his
doctor that just told me to cool my heels or leave. I took a deep breath and
calmed down. I wanted to be a support for Riley, to let him know that I was
there for him.
After the final appointment, when Riley's doctor had declared him fit, I pulled
the car into the garage, and turned off the engine.

"Go to the den and think about all that has happened," I told him. I held up my
hand to stop any fight from him as he opened his mouth to speak. "Den. Think" I
said firmly.

He undid his seatbelt and the look he gave me was his best impression of a
sad-eyed puppy. It didn't work. I was upset and he knew it. He also knew that
when I sent him to the den it was serious. And when I said to think, I meant I
better find him in his corner thinking.

When I walked into the den, my boy was standing in his corner, his T-shirt
hanging just below his ass cheeks. How his mom ever kept clothes on him when he
was growing up was beyond me.

Keeping an eye on him, I went to my desk. He shivered when he heard me pull out
the drawer. He knew what was in there. After retrieving what I needed, I slid
it shut. I grabbed the two bottles of water I brought with me over to the sofa
and slid the paddle behind the cushion as I sat down.

"Come here, luv," I called out to him. When he turned, I held my arms open and
soon had my boy wrapped in my arms. When he had folded his body onto my lap, I
kissed the top of his head.

"Do we need to go into detail why you are going to be spanked and then paddled?"
I asked him. He shook his head no. "Then let get this over with so we can put it
behind us."

I helped him lie across my lap. I made sure his front half was supported by the
sofa, and his feet touched the floor. When he was in position, I lifted my leg
just a bit. I heard him whimper. He and I knew this wasn't going to be easy.
The spanking was one of the hardest I'd ever given him. He was crying hard by
the third swat. After the paddling was over, I maneuvered us both so that he was
resting on me, without causing him anymore pain.

With one arm tightly wrapped around him, the other gently rubbed his back. I
whispered softly to him to get him to calm down. It took a long time to get him
to settle down, but that was alright we had all the time in the world. After a
while he rubbed his face into my shirt and reached for a bottle of water. He
downed it in one go and then shifted around so he was snuggled deep into my
chest.

"Are you hungry?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. Just as I
suspected, he shook his head no. The ticking of the clock, and his hiccups were
all I heard for about a half hour.

"Can we have Chinese?" he finally asked.

"Of course," I said and quickly reached for the phone. I dialed from memory and
ordered what I knew he would eat. I think the one reason he liked to eat Chinese
after a harsh punishment, was because he could snuggle up on me and I'd feed
him. After I hung up, I kissed him and said, "Go shower; make sure you wash well
down there."

"I get to keep it?" He asked.

"Well, you do want to see if the rumors are true." I told him.

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