Chapter Text
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” hollers Clint, dragging his feet as his daddy pulls him by the arm back to the big bedroom where Daddy sleeps.
“I know you’re sorry, baby,” says Daddy patiently, still not letting go, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you disobeyed me again today.”
Daddy drags him to the bedroom where he sits down on the edge of his bed and takes Clint into his lap, hugging him close. Clint buries his face in his daddy’s neck and whimpers.
“I didn’t mean to,” whimpers the little boy sorrowfully.
“That won’t do, Clint,” says Daddy gently. “Now I have to add telling a lie to your punishment.”
“NO, Daddy,” pleads Clint, squirming.
“Tell me what you did wrong, sweetheart.”
“I don’t wanna,” pouts Clint, still hiding his face.
“Clint,” says Daddy, unmistakable warning in his tone. When Daddy gets that tone, Clint had better obey him, and fast.
“I…I said a bad word,” whispers the little boy.
“A bad word?” asks Daddy.
“SOME bad words,” corrects Clint quickly. “An…and I said them yesterday too.”
“I’m disappointed, Clint,” says Daddy sadly, and Clint sobs a little. He’s not really crying, not yet, but he wants to. “What happened yesterday when you said those words?”
“Daddy!” whines Clint. Daddy’s fingers slide threateningly down the back seam of Clint’s shorts and he shivers. “You…you brought me back here….”
“Yes,”
“And…and I hadda lie down on my tummy on a pillow.”
“Then what?”
Clint blushes furiously, relieved Daddy isn’t making him look in his eyes.
“Then…then you pulled down my pants.”
“That’s right.”
“And y…you made me hold my bottom open. With my hands,” whispers Clint, feeling the same funny, squirmy feeling in his tummy that he always does when this happens.
“Go on,” says Daddy encouragingly.
“Oh Daddy,” whines Clint, “I don’t like to say it.”
“Obey Daddy please Clint, or you get three punishments today.” This makes Clint gasp in fear.
“No please,” he breathes. “I’ll tell you.”
“Okay baby, go on.”
“Then…you spanked me.”
“That’s not good enough, sweetheart,” says Daddy sternly.
“Ohh,” whimpers Clint, his face hot. “you…you spanked me on…on my hole. With your belt. It hurted so bad an’ I cried and cried.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I screamed, Daddy, an’ I begged an’ begged you to stop, but you didn’t. You spanked my hole for so long and it was really bad.”
“I’m sure it was,” says Daddy kindly, stroking his strong hand down Clint’s back. “Keep going, love.”
“Then,” gasps Clint, squirming some more because he feels really funny inside, “then you put the slippery stuff on my hole and it hurted a lot when you touched it and I cried more, and you put in your finger and I begged you not to cause it burned in my bottom when you did that but you did it anyway and….and…” Clint’s breath hitches in his chest. “and you put your….your…”
“You can say it, baby, it’s all right,” says Daddy softly.
“Your…c…cock…into my bottom, inside my hole where you whipped me, and oh Daddy, it hurt me so bad and I cried and screamed. You didn’t stop, and it was really bad, Daddy!”
“If it was so bad,” muses Daddy, “then I wonder why you did the same thing today?” Clint’s eyes fly wide open as the meaning of his daddy’s words sink in.
“Daddy,” he cries in sudden fear, “you’re not gonna do the same thing today are you?” He starts to tremble.
“Not quite, love,” says Daddy in his warm, wonderful voice. Clint sighs in relief. It is short-lived. “Today after I whip your sore little hole hard again, and you are screaming and crying again, I am going to call your brother who you said bad words to, and he is going to come in here and I will let HIM spread your little cheeks open and put his cock into your punished hole.”
Clint feels as though he’s been punched in his tummy. He has seen Steve’s cock once before, when it was big and hard. Steve had someone do some stuff to him a long time ago, and it made him really strong and big. Everywhere. Steve’s penis is huge, even bigger than Daddy’s, and Clint’s poor little hole clenches in fear at the thought of that big, fat cock pushing into his sore, burning, swollen bottom hole. He bursts into tears against his daddy’s neck.
“Nooo,” he begs, “oh please Daddy, please don’t! I’m really sorry I said mean things to Steve, just please don’t make him punish my hole that way! PLEASE Daddy! I promise, I’ll never ever do it again!”
“Hush, Sweetheart,” says Daddy, petting Clint’s head while he cries in fear. “You’ve had a very bad potty mouth lately, and that’s bad enough. But when you say mean dirty words to your brother and hurt his feelings and disobey me, you must be punished. You had your naughty little hole punished severely yesterday, and I would have thought that would have been enough to teach you to watch what you say. I thought that when simple spankings didn’t work, then punishing you on the parts of your body that related to the naughty words you said would help you remember. But still I walked by you boys’ bedroom today and heard you arguing about your legos. What did you say to Steve, Clint?”
Clint sobs and shakes his head, burrowing harder against Daddy’s neck. A sharp spank on his leg makes him cry out.
“Oh,” he gasps, “I’m sorry Daddy!” Another sharp slap on his leg makes him squirm madly and whine. “Okay, I’ll tell! I said…I said….oh Daddy, I don’t want to say it again, please?”
“That’s another punishment Clint, and I’m not going to tell you again,” says Daddy sternly. Clint bites his lip and tries to choke back his crying.
“He wouldn’t share the legos I needed to use to make my space ship and he said it was stupid and I got mad,” confesses Clint miserably.
“Yes,” says Daddy gently, “and your brother and I will be having a punishment session about sharing and being mean later.”
“You will?” sniffles Clint, brightening a little, even though it’s not very much because of what’s going to happen to him in a little bit. Part of what makes him miserable about being punished is that it’s not fair when Steve was mean to him first if he’s the only one who gets in trouble. Of course, Daddy is always fair, so he probably shouldn’t have been worrying about that part.
“Yes,” says Daddy firmly. “Steve is going to have a very long, hard spanking on his bare bottom and legs with my belt. Don’t try to avoid answering me, Clint. You’re already getting two extra spankings before the main part of today’s punishment.”
“I’m sorry,” says the little boy quickly. “I….I got so mad, and I know I shouldn’ta Daddy, but I did, and I said Fuck you, you fuckin’ asshole.”
“That’s right, baby. And since you said asshole yesterday too, and got spanked on your asshole, then since you said it again today, you get your sore little hole spanked again. And since you said mean words to your brother, and also because you said worse words and more of them today, your punishment will be worse. Your brother’s cock is bigger than mine, and it’s going to hurt your little hole more, especially because it aches and hurts inside from yesterday’s punishment. I’m afraid it is going to be very hard on you, sweetheart, but I want my boys to be good and obey me, and that means you must be punished when you break the rules.”
“Yes Daddy,” whispers Clint tearfully.
Daddy stands Clint in front of him and gently takes off his little t-shirt (it’s his favorite one with Thor on it) and then pulls his shorts and underwear down over his hips and lets them slide to the floor. Clint’s still crying softly, because he knows this is gonna be really awful and he wishes he’d kept his stupid mouth shut.
“I’m going to take care of your punishments for lying to me and not answering me when I asked you a question first,” says Daddy sternly.
“Yes Daddy,” whispers Clint, trembling a little.
His daddy makes him bend over the end of the bed and lay his chest on its surface. This makes his hips jut upwards a little, elevating his bottom. Daddy gently taps his foot against the little boy’s legs until he spreads them out wide. Clint whimpers when he hears Daddy unbuckle his belt. The belt is wide and thick and heavy. Daddy keeps it supple with mink oil. Clint hears the faint jingle of his daddy wrapping the belt around his fist, knowing he will leave about two feet of thick black strap hanging down, and that Daddy never misses with the belt and that it is going to hurt very, very much.
“Why are you getting this spanking, Clint?” asks Daddy softly.
“B…because I s..said I didn’t mean to be bad, and you knew I did. I meant to say the bad words, Daddy, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m glad you’re sorry, sweetheart. Twenty with the belt, all right?”
“Yes Daddy,” keens the sad little boy, pressing his face into the bedspread, putting his arms out to the sides like he knows his Daddy wants him to do, and not move them, to show he can accept his punishment like a good boy and not try to cover his bottom with his hands. He presses his palms against the comforter hard and hopes he can manage that.
Daddy never starts out slow or easy. When he punishes, he spanks hard. Very hard. The belt cracks against the little boy’s bottom loudly. It is so loud inside Clint’s head that he thinks it may deafen him. He cries out in pain and shudders. He’s very glad Daddy hasn’t told him he has to count, because he was crying before this spanking even started and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t manage. His tight little bottom hole is raw and sore from the whipping it got last night, and the heavy strap compressing the soft cheeks of his bottom make the raw skin inside rub, so the spanking hurts even more than usual. Daddy straps Clint’s bottom hard, from almost at the top of his cleft all the way down to his sit-spots and the tender crease where his backside meets his thighs, and that makes up five strokes. Six, seven, and eight are on the backs of his legs, and Clint howls in pain. Nine, ten, eleven and twelve go back up his legs and then Daddy straps his reddened cheeks again. After fifteen, Daddy pauses and lets Clint bawl and sob for a few minutes. His hand gently rubs the little boy’s lower back.
“I’m so sorry!” wails Clint. He’s shaking, because he knows where the last few spanks are going to go and he really, really doesn’t want them to.
“I know, baby,” says Daddy gently. “Keep your legs open very wide, okay?”
“Okay,” sobs Clint.
He feels Daddy kneel down behind him, and then the belt licks cruelly at his left inner thigh, up high where Clint’s skin is baby soft and very tender. It feels like fire between his legs. The last five strokes blister his inner thighs cruelly, and he screams after every one, sobbing breathlessly when Daddy finally finishes the spanking. He is picked up and cuddled close in Daddy’s lap, mewling a little when his spanked bottom comes into contact with his daddy’s pants, but squirming to get closer anyway. He gets to stay here like this until he stops crying, and he tries to keep that going as long as he can, because he knows that pretty soon after he stops, he’s going to be spanked again. Unfortunately, he can only wring tears out for so long, and pretty soon Daddy is setting him on his feet and reaching over to the bedside table to get the big, round, wooden-backed hairbrush from the bedside table. Clint’s hands go back unconsciously to cover his stinging bottom. The hairbrush hurts so much. He’s going to scream and beg and cry when Daddy paddles his bottom with it, and it makes him feel like a baby, but he can’t help it. His daddy lifts him up and tugs him gently over his lap, Clint whines softly in his throat and feels his ears grow hot with embarrassment. He can already feel himself getting hard against his daddy’s lap as his hips press against Daddy’s leg. He tries not to rock, but he can’t help doing it a little.
“Bad little boys don’t get to come,” warns Daddy softly. Clint gasps a little bit and stops moving. One time he came when Daddy had said it wasn’t allowed. Clint had been switched with a slender, delicate switch on his dick and balls while he howled in pain and pleaded for mercy. Then a thicker switch had covered him with welts from the top of his buttocks down almost to his ankles while he was tied to the bed so he couldn’t roll away. Then Daddy had put his cock into Clint’s little hole with hardly any lubrication at all, only a little bit of spit, and Clint’s poor hole had hurt so bad he’d nearly fainted, and he had screamed until his voice was hoarse. He doesn’t ever EVER want to do that again! Daddy rubs the hairbrush in a little circle against Clint’s bottom, and then pulls back. Clint tries not to tense up. It hurts worse when he clenches his bottom. But oh, it’s hard not to. Daddy brings the hairbrush down low on the little boy’s left cheek, then quickly on the right one too. The hairbrush stings Clint’s skin but also burns down deeper with the heft of its solid weight. His yowl of pain is piercing. When Daddy uses the hairbrush, he doesn’t draw things out. He paddles hard and fast, peppering Clint’s bottom and the backs of his legs with awful hot pain while Clint bawls and screams and squirms and kicks his feet. He doesn’t try to get away, but it hurts so much he can’t be still. Daddy’s arm is wrapped snug around his waist anyway, so he knows he won’t fall. Daddy had started to do it this way when after the dozenth time Clint had been given extra punishment for not being able to stay on Daddy’s lap he had collapsed on the floor in hysterics as he begged Daddy to listen. Daddy could tell Clint wasn’t being bad or trying to get out of his punishment, and when he understood that Clint’s little boy body couldn’t stand the speed and hurt of the spanking from the hairbrush and also be still, he had promised he would never punish him for moving then again. Clint tries extra hard to be very good and still the other times Daddy tells him to, because he just loves him so much, and because Daddy loves him too and listens to him when he really needs to be heard. Daddy doesn’t count the number of spanks he gives with the hairbrush, he just spanks until Clint’s bottom and legs are so red and hot and marked up from the brush that he feels Clint has been punished enough. Then it is more cuddles and this time Daddy kisses the tears from Clint’s sweaty face and cards his fingers through Clint’s hair and tells him he’s a good boy. Clint wishes again that he could just cry and cry forever, because it’s one of Daddy’s rules that another punishment can’t begin until all the crying from the one before is over.
Clint really, really doesn’t want the next punishment to begin. He knows better than to pretend-cry though, because if he does and Daddy notices, he will be punished again before he goes over the pillows for his big punishment of the night, and since he’s already gotten the belt and hairbrush, it will probably be the switch, and then when he has to hold open his bottom for Daddy to whip his hole, his hands will sting the welts and make everything worse. Daddy gives him a little extra time, and even gets a cool washcloth from the bathroom, which he uses to gently wipe his boy’s tearstained face. It feels good on his swollen eyelids. Eventually though, the waiting is up and Daddy sets Clint off his lap and gets two pillows from the head of the bed and lays them in its center.
“Come on, sweetheart, lie over the pillows for me.”
Shaking with dread, Clint obeys, crawling onto the bed and carefully draping himself over the pillows so that they prop his hips up at the perfect angle for punishment. He’s already starting to cry again. Daddy sits down next to him and rubs his hand down Clint’s back to his bottom. The palm of his hand brushes gently over reddened skin, and his fingertips dip between the hot cheeks to stroke softy over Clint’s little pucker, making him gasp.
“Can you do this, baby boy? Can you keep your legs open wide and keep your bottom spread open and stay in position over the pillows?” Daddy’s voice is kind, and it makes Clint’s tears overflow and start to trickle down his face again.
“I don’t know, Daddy,” he whispers. “I’ll really try.”
“Would you rather have help, so you don’t make mistakes and have to get extra spanks on your hole?” Clint whimpers again.
“Yes, please,” he says in a tiny voice. He knows what Daddy means by the question, and he hates it, but he’s almost positive he’s going to be hurting so much that he’s going to mess up in at least one of those ways.
Daddy takes out two soft cotton ropes. He ties them to Clint’s ankles, making sure they’re not too tight, and then ties them to the bed’s footboard, spreading Clint’s legs very wide. Then he goes to the small chest in his closet that has some of the things he uses to punish his boys. He gets out an odd implement for a bedroom. It is a plastic spaghetti serving measurer. It is flat, about a foot long, and has holes of varying sizes down its length. The idea of it is to use these openings to measure how many servings of dry spaghetti you’re using, but Daddy never uses it for that.
“Spread your cheeks for me, Clint,” he says quietly, and Clint does, biting his lips against the urge to start begging now. Daddy presses the flat surface of the implement down between the little boy’s spread buttocks, centering the largest hole directly over Clint’s anus, which winks anxiously at the feel of the cool air and the chilly plastic touching it. The tool keeps his cheeks open and his hole exposed without Clint having to hold them. Daddy settles himself between Clint’s thighs and Clint starts to cry harder.
“Please, Daddy,” he whines. “Please. Don’t!”
“This is happening, baby boy,” says Daddy sternly. “Maybe next time you’ll remember not to say bad words to your brother.”
With that, Daddy commences whipping Clint’s small puckered hole with the tip of his belt. Clint screams and begins to plead frantically as his Daddy spanks and spanks his sore little hole. It hurts and burns so much Clint doesn’t think he can stand it.
“Please Daddy,” he bawls, “Please stop! It hurts, oh it hurts, I’ll be so good, I promise. Please, Daddy! Please, oh please!”
Daddy pays no heed to Clint’s begging, he just punishes the little boy’s tender, sore, swollen little hole for what seems like forever. By the time he stops, Clint’s a howling mess and his tiny little anus is a blazing hell of pain between his cheeks. For a few seconds, he’s not aware the whipping is over, not until he feels the cool trickle of a thin stream of lube drizzle onto his hole. The measurer is taken away and Clint feels the pad of his daddy’s finger touch his miserable, painful hole. He sobs harder while Daddy pushes his finger inside his bottom.
“PLEASE!” he screams, “Please NO, Daddy! It hurts so bad, oh it hurts it hurts! Please Daddy, not this time, please don’t, I’ll be good!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” murmurs Daddy. “I’ve told you what your punishment will be, and that is what’s happening.”
Clint sobs and begs and pleads while Daddy slicks up his hole very carefully. After a few minutes of slowly driving his finger in and out of the helpless boy’s blazing little hole, Daddy gets up and goes to the door. He opens it and puts his head out.
“Steve,” he calls, “Could you come back here, please?”
Clint hears Steve reply, a little distance away, and starts to whimper no, no nononono under his breath, crying harder and harder.
“Good boy,” says Daddy when Steve comes in. Steve looks earnestly at Daddy, his hands gripping each other nervously in front of him, his blue eyes darting to where Clint lays sobbing with his bottom up in the air.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” he asks, a little breathlessly.
“Come over here please,” says Daddy, holding out his hand to Steve, who shuffles over to the edge of the bed a little hesitantly.
“Are….” He gasps, “are you going to punish me now, Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart. That’s going to come later. You understand why I am going to have to spank you, don’t you?”
“Yes Daddy,” says Steve softly. “I wasn’t nice to Clint while we were playing, and I didn’t want to share. And m…maybe if I hadn’t been mean to him, he might not be getting p…punished now. Oh Clint,” whimpers Steve, and there is real sadness in his voice. “I’m so sorry!”
While Clint does hear this and dimly appreciates it, he’s crying way too hard to speak.
“Steve,” says Daddy gently, “it’s very nice that you’re sorry Clint’s being punished, and I’m proud of you for being able to be honest about your part in it, but both of you boys make your own choices, and you are not responsible for one another’s actions. When you didn’t want to share, Clint should have come to me, and every bit of this could have been avoided by talking things out. I know the adjustment of becoming a family isn’t easy, but it doesn’t have to be as hard as you two sometimes seem to love making it. Now, because Clint has repeated an infraction for which he was just punished yesterday, the consequences are going to have to be worse. Steve…do you know what happened to your brother last night?”
Steve turns bright red to the roots of his hair.
“Yes Daddy,” he whispers. “Do I….do you need me to hold his hands or something?”
“I need you to fuck him, sweetheart.”
“Now?” asks Steve, his voice miraculously managing to make it through about six octaves in one syllable.
“Yes,” says Daddy. “Now.”
“Daddy please,” gasps Steve, sounding terrified, “I can’t!”
“Why can’t you?” asks Daddy curiously.
“It will hurt him!”
“Yes, it will.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” exclaims his brother, appalled. “I love him!”
“Do you think that I don’t?” asks Daddy, and the thread of menace in his tone is not lost on Steve.
“Of course not,” he hurries to reassure. “You love us more than anything, Daddy. But it…it’s a daddy’s job to punish, not another boy’s. I…I don’t think I’d be able to do it. Please Daddy!”
“You’re a good boy, Steve,” says Daddy fondly. “And I’m glad to hear that you want to protect rather than harm your brother. But he needs a lesson badly, and you can help him learn it in a way I obviously haven’t. Are you trying to tell me that you would defy my wishes on this, or that you don’t believe you’ll be capable of….performing…out of concern for his well-being?”
“The second one,” admits Steve, blushing even more deeply, if that’s possible. “I…I don’t like the idea, but I wouldn’t go against you, Daddy. Plus also I know you still gotta spank me and I wouldn’t want to give you any more reasons! I’m sorry, sir, I just don’t think I can….get, you know, ready. To do it.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart. Come sit beside me on the bed. No, right here next to me, between his legs. Good boy,” says Phil, and Clint feels the bed sag a little more under Steve’s weight.
“Is this all right, Daddy?”
“Yes honey, you’re fine right there. Now I want you to look at your brother, really look closely at him.”
“Yes Daddy.”
“He’s lovely, don’t you think?”
“I….,” Steve swallows almost audibly, “yes Daddy, he is.”
“You can touch him if you like. Haven’t you ever wondered, Steve, how his skin would feel under your fingers? Wondered if it feels soft or rough, wondered if he’s sensitive anywhere, if he’d quiver and sigh for you?”
“Daddy,” whines Steve.
“It’s okay, baby. Daddy wants his boys to love each other. I’m not going to be angry if you’ve thought about it, about him, that way.”
“Yes,” breathes Steve. Clint flinches when he feels cool, blunt fingertips graze the back of his thigh. He’s a little sore there, but the insistent and horrible throbbing of his poor little hole has made him forget about the earlier spankings. Steve’s fingers reawaken the sting on his leg. He muffles a whimper.
“I love that sound,” whispers Daddy. “He sounds so sweet, so helpless when he makes that little whine.”
“Yeah,” agrees Steve, his voice soft and breathy. The fingers trickle over his legs, stroke gently on the insides of his thighs, which makes him sob again a little bit.
“That one too,” hisses Daddy. “It’s okay if you like it, Steve. The pain in his voice, the way he trembles and aches when you touch him.”
“I can feel the welts on his legs,” whispers Steve. “Wow. His skin’s so hot, Daddy. You spanked him really hard.”
The touch drifts higher, and Steve’s fingers explore the cheeks of his spanked bottom. He squirms and mewls helplessly into the bedspread.
“If you think he feels hot there, look at this,” their daddy whispers back. Clint’s crying cranks back up to sobbing when he feels Daddy’s hands on his bottom, spreading him open.
“God,” breathes Steve. “Daddy, his hole…it’s so red and swollen.”
“Do you want to touch it, sweetheart? Feel how hot and tight it is? I’ve already slicked him up…”
Clint howls in pain when his brother’s thick finger slides into his whipped hole. Steve makes a sound in his throat that is as much hunger as it is surprise. The little boy squeals and writhes as his big brother fingers him deeply, fascinated by Clint’s sobs and pleas for mercy.
“Daddy,” gasps Steve in a strangled voice. “I want…do you really want me to…can I?”
“Yes, love. I want you to finish your brother’s punishment. After all it was you he spouted all those naughty words at, so it’s fitting. One thing though, Steve.”
“Yes Daddy?”
“You can’t have mercy on his little hole, no matter how much he cries or begs. You must use him quite hard, and makes sure he is very punished. Can you do that?”
“I can now,” sighs Steve, and Clint’s desperate begging erupts from his throat when he feels the fat head of Steve’s cock press against his burning, sore anus. He babbles and pleads for Steve not to do it.
“Please don’t, please! Oh please, Steve! My hole hurts so bad, please please don’t!”
“I have to,” says Steve softly. “Daddy says so. I’m sorry It hurts you, Clint.”
“NOOOOOO,” shrieks the smaller boy when his brother’s thick cock pushes into his raw little ass. Even with the generous amounts of lube his daddy has applied to his hole, Clint is too tight and too swollen for Steve’s rather impressive erection to slide all the way in. Steve pushes with his hips and the fat mushroom head of his cock spreads the throbbing, puffy tissues of Clint’s entrance out around his intruding member. Clint yells and pleads with Steve to please PLEASE not put it in anymore. He turns his tear-blinded eyes to where his daddy sits and begs him not to let brother hurt Clint anymore. Steve eases back until the head of his cock is only resting against the little boy’s beaten hole, then he pushes back in again, opening Clint a little bit wider and sinking in another inch. Clint claws at the comforter and bawls. Again Steve’s hips rock back, withdrawing from his little brother’s anus almost all the way.
“Steven,” says Daddy softly. “This is meant to be punishment.”
“Do you want me to give him all of it?” pants Steve, his voice tight with strain. Clint knows that sound, Daddy’s voice sounds that way when he’s using Clint’s hole and it’s tight and good and he likes the way Clint whimpers or cries or begs. When he’s not being punished, Clint likes it when Daddy puts his cock in Clint’s bottom, even though it always hurts a little bit. But when he’s being punished, it hurts so much he can’t help but scream and cry for real. Daddy, he thinks, likes this just about as much as he likes the quiet little whimpers and moans of Clint’s pleasure. Now, it seems, Steve likes it too.
“Yes sweetheart,” says Daddy, and Clint moans in fear.
“Please,” he begs desperately. “Please no!”
“This is going to hurt so bad, Clint,” whispers Steve in his ear, and he SHOVES his cock all the way inside Clint’s miserable little hole, forcing it open wide. It feels like he’s been torn, like his insides don’t have room for how big Steve is, or how much his sizeable cock hurts the smaller boy’s anus. He shrieks in agony, trembling and shuddering with sobs. His screams fill the house as, hands holding tight to Clint’s hips, Steve proceeds to fuck his sore, punished hole. It’s so much bigger than their daddy that Clint feels like he’s being torn in half. He screams and begs and cries until his voice is hoarse, after the first few minutes he changes over to begging Steve to come, so that it will be over. Unfortunately, whatever the experiments were that people did on Steve before he came here and became part of their family gave Steve enormous amounts of stamina.
“Do I have to come quick, Daddy?” Steve asks through gritted teeth.
“No, love,” says Daddy fondly. “You may make it last as long as you like. Watch out for blood though. If you harm him and do not stop immediately, I am going to buy a strap-on bigger than your lovely cock and let him fuck you with it for as long as I tell him to.”
Steve’s rhythm stutters at the threat, and he pauses. Clint feels a finger trace the tightly stretched skin that quivers around Steve’s cock and he groans. It burns, but that soft stroke feels good too. Clint doesn’t want to, MUST not come, because he knows the pain inside his bottom right now would be nothing compared to how his hole and his private parts would suffer if he did. Having made sure that Clint is not bleeding, Steve slowly drags his cock back out of the punished hole beneath him and pauses for a moment while Clint pleads with him to come. Then Steve shoves back inside Clint very hard and resumes the harsh fucking. It lasts for a really long time, until Clint’s voice is nearly gone and he has no tears left to cry but still shudders and sobs with dry eyes, occasionally softly begs Steve to stop, promising to be a good boy. He feels his skin starting to grow cold, and it’s a little hard to keep his eyes open, which is sort of weird when he’s hurting this much. He shivers hard and grits his teeth to keep them from chattering.
“Steve, I think he’s had enough. He’s getting a little shocky. Go ahead and come now,” says Daddy, and Steve breathlessly agrees. After a second, he makes a frustrated sound.
“I don’t know what’s wrong, Daddy,” he whines. “I think I maybe went too long. I….I really wanna come, Daddy, but do you want me to just stop?”
“I think I know what you need,” says Daddy wisely. “You’re enjoying fucking your naughty little brother, but in your heart you wish it was you feeling this, don’t you? You need to be punished, Steve, hard and often. It’s what makes you feel loved and cared for.”
“Yes, Daddy,” whispers Steve. Then suddenly he lets out a pained yelp. Clint is able to drum up enough curiosity to look back over his shoulder a little. Daddy’s hand is out of sight behind Steve, and from the way Steve squeezes his eyes shut in pain and moans, he can tell that Daddy has probably shoved his finger into Steve’s hole, dry, so it hurts a little. Daddy is on his knees next to Steve, and he starts to murmur to him.
“It will be your turn next, love,” he hisses. “Strip you naked and make you get on your hands and knees. Press your face and chest to the bed, arch your back and push that pretty bottom up for me, spread your legs as wide as you can, so I can see your little pucker and your cock dangling down between your legs. I’ll cuff your hands behind your back. And I’ll punish you so hard, baby. I’ll whip you with my belt until your bottom and your legs are raw and welted, until you’re sobbing and crying for me like little boys are supposed to when they get spanked.”
“Ohhhhh Daddy,” groans Steve, fucking into Clint’s hole harder, which makes Clint try to drum up a creditable scream. All that comes out is a wounded sound that isn’t even sane.
“Are you going to come, sweetheart? Fill your baby brother’s punished hole up with your spunk? Will I need to get the crop out when I punish you, Steve, if you can’t be still? If I have to do that, you’re going to be a very sorry little boy. I’ll use it on the insides of your thighs and the bottoms of your feet and the back of your calves. I’ll have to sting your little hole too, and give your balls and your red cock some stings too, while you cry and cry. Think of it, Steve. Think how it hurts when the leather slapper on the end of the crop bites your tight hole or your soft tender private parts. Just think….”
“OHH God,” groans Steve loudly, his fingers convulsing on Clint’s hips as he hauls him back to meet his final cruel thrust, holding their bodies pressed close together as his cock spasms and he fills Clint’s hole with come. He pulls out of Clint’s shaking body very carefully when he is finished, and after Daddy removes the ropes, lifts the drained, crying little boy up so that Daddy can take the pillows away and they can lower Clint gently to his side and snuggle him in between them. Clint cries for a long time, finally subsiding to the occasional hiccup.
“I’m sorry I was bad, Daddy,” he whispers in a wrecked voice. Daddy leans in and kisses him softly.
“Thank your brother, sweetheart,” he says gently. Clint whimpers, but he looks over his shoulder at Steve.
“Th…thank you for…p…punishing me,’ he whispers brokenly. “I’m suh…sorry I said mean things to you.”
“I’m sorry I was mean to you too, Clint,” says Steve, looking sincere, and only partly because he’s probably going to be getting his own punishment pretty soon.
Daddy reaches for the bedside table and gets the little jar of healing ointment a friend of his created for him. It really does have a remarkable effect on surface contusions and minor traumas. He and Steve spend several minutes smoothing the ointment into Clint’s welts and scrapes. It feels really, really nice, and he feels his dick start to wake up a little at their soft touches. Then Daddy turns him back on his tummy and he whines. This part is going to make him feel a lot better a lot sooner than if Daddy didn’t do it, but Clint’s hole is so sore, so fucked out, so raw and swollen, that he’s scared for Daddy to do it. He starts to cry again when Daddy’s finger gently strokes his hole. It’s not as agonizing as the whipping or the fucking, but his hole aches and throbs, and the lightest touch causes him pain. Daddy is very tender and patient, but he does not stop, and Clint cries softly while his hole is carefully coated with the soothing ointment (which smells very nicely of cedar and green growing things). By the time Daddy is finishing, Clint’s hips are rocking and his cock is hard. Daddy notices of course, and chuckles softly.
“Can you come, baby boy, from my finger inside your sore little hole?”
“I think so Daddy,” pants Clint, crying out in pain and sobbing a little when Daddy presses his whole finger down inside the little boy’s swollen anus. Clint shudders and gasps and whines until Daddy’s finger brushes oh, so gently, over his sweet spot inside his bottom. Then he sucks in his breath and pleads suddenly and frantically. “Please! Please NOW, Daddy?”
“Come for me, Clint,” whispers Daddy. “Come now, that’s my good boy.”
Clint’s pleasure swamps him, nearly suffocating in its intensity, and his howl as his hole clamps down and clutches convulsively at Daddy’s finger is as much pain as it is release. He shakes and cries in Daddy’s arms with Steve’s hands stroking his back and the muscles of his arms and being very careful not to touch him anywhere that hurts.
“You’re beautiful, Clint,” whispers Steve. “Isn’t he, Daddy?”
“Yes baby, he is beautiful,” agrees Daddy, pressing a kiss to Clint’s forehead and then his lips. Clint wriggles a little in pleasure, then stops suddenly, wincing in pain as raw flesh tugs when he squirms. He hides the smile on his face in the comforter, whimpering.
“I….,” says Steve uncertainly. “I didn’t hurt you…to much….did I?” he asks, looking worried.
Clint lifts his head and grins crookedly at Rogers over his shoulder.
“We told you I could take it rough,” he says, cocky and bemused. “And you’re messing up the game if you say shit like that, you know.”
“You’re a very sick man, Clint,” says Steve, shaking his head. Clint raises up on one elbow and looks down at where the super soldier lies next to him, naked and all beautiful tawny skin and thick muscle and earnest blue eyes.
“I’m a sick man?” he says in amusement. “Steve,” he leans close, almost close enough to kiss, “you’re next. He’s going to do all of it, Steve. Ohh big brother, Daddy’s gonna whip you so hard, gonna make you bawl like a little boy, make you call him Daddy while he slaps your cock with the crop, while he fucks you into the mattress.”
Steve’s eyelids flutter a little and he cannot conceal either the eager twitch of his hips or the soft moan of hunger. Clint smiles and leans the rest of the way in to make the kiss a reality. “Who’s a sick man?” he mutters into Steve’s mouth
“Me,” sighs Steve.
“Thank God,” says Phil.
“Fuck yeah,” whispers Clint.