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#Post#: 3690--------------------------------------------------
grape 2
DIR By: S. Criminal
Date: March 8, 2024, 2:47 pm
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As the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky a warm,
inviting shade of orange, Conker the degenerate, orange,
humanoid squirrel stumbled home, his fur matted and his tail
drooping listlessly. He had been on quite the bender, and it
showed. His tiny, beady eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and he
had to lean heavily on a rickety, wooden crate just to keep from
face-planting into the dirt path that led to his room-mate
Timmy's house.
The air was crisp and cool, a refreshing contrast to the noxious
fumes that still wafted from Conker's breath. He made his way up
the creaky wooden steps to the front door, fumbling awkwardly
with the key until he finally managed to unlock it. With a sigh
of relief, he staggered inside, kicking the door shut behind
him.
Timmy was waiting for him, a look of rage on his face.
"Conker, you stink," he growled. "You reek of booze and cheap
perfume. And look at the state of you! You're a mess!"
Conker glanced down at himself, wincing. He had forgotten how
bad he must smell and look. "Sorry, Timmy," he slurred, his
words barely intelligible. "Didn't mean to wreck the place."
Timmy grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him into the
punishment room.
"You've had it this time, Conker!" he shouted, slamming the door
behind him. "I've had enough of your disgusting antics and
selfish behavior! You've wrecked our home, you've embarrassed me
in front of our friends, and you've neglected your duties around
here!"
Conker struggled to sit up, wincing at the pounding in his head.
The punishment room was as grim and depressing as ever, with a
single dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long,
eerie shadows across the room. A long leather mattress with
shackles and handcuffs sat in the center of the room. Along the
walls, various implements of pain hung. And a rusty, old padlock
hung on the door, sealing it shut. He could hear Timmy pacing
outside, muttering to himself about what he should do with
Conker this time.
Timmy returned with a long wooden paddle, no holes just a handle
and a long piece of wood. "Get on the fucking bed, lay on your
stomach!" Timmy ordered.
Conker did as he was told, his heart racing as he felt Timmy,
kneeling next to him. Timmy, put both of Conker's wrists in
cuffs. Then removed his shoes and began to unbutton Conker's
pants, sliding them down, then removing his pants and underwear,
leaving Conker naked from the waist down. Timmy proceeded to
lock Conker's ankles up in the shackles, leaving the squirrel
completely helpless. He grabbed ahold of Conker's tail and
raised the paddle, high over his plump rump.
"Now, Conker," Timmy growled, "I want you to count, one for each
strike. And if you misbehave, I'll give you extra." He brought
the paddle down hard, the impact echoing through the room.
Conker let out a sharp yelp as pain shot through his backside.
"One!" Timmy yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. "One!" he
counted again, as he brought the paddle down a second time, even
harder than before. This time, Conker's cries of pain were
muffled by the mattress beneath him. "Two!" Timmy shouted, his
grip tightening on the handle of the paddle.
Conker knew he had to do something, anything, to make Timmy
stop. But his body was locked in place, his mind still fuzzy
from the alcohol. He tried to wriggle free, but it was no use.
Tears welled up in his eyes as Timmy continued to strike him
mercilessly. "Three!" "Four!" "Five!" With each count, the pain
intensified, becoming almost unbearable.
"Six!" "Seven!" "Eight!" The impact of the paddle seemed to
reverberate through Conker's entire body. He could feel the
welts rising on his backside, the burning sting of each strike.
He could hear himself whimpering and sobbing, his voice muffled
by the mattress.
Timmy continued to rain down blow after blow, his anger fueling
his swing. He seemed to take pleasure in Conker's suffering,
relishing the way the squirrel's body twitched and writhed with
each strike. Conker felt like he was being torn apart, his body
reduced to nothing more than a mass of pain. He tried to summon
the strength to beg for mercy, to apologize, but all that came
out were broken, ragged gasps for air.
The ninth strike landed, harder than any before it, sending a
wave of agony coursing through Conker's body. He felt as if his
insides were being ripped apart, as if every fiber of his being
was being torn from his skin. He let out a long, anguished howl
that echoed through the room, mingling with the sounds of his
own tortured cries.
Timmy paused for a moment, taking a breath as he watched the
squirrel writhe in pain. "I'm almost done," he growled, "but I
think I'll give you one more." With that, he raised the paddle
high above his head, preparing to deliver what would undoubtedly
be the most brutal blow yet.
The sensation of the paddle connecting with Conker's backside
was almost unbearable. He felt as if his insides had been set
ablaze, as if every nerve ending in his body had been singed to
ash. His scream tore through the room, echoing off the walls and
filling the air with a sound that was both agonizing and primal.
He felt his body convulse, his muscles tense and relax in a
futile attempt to escape the relentless pain. Timmy threw the
paddle aside and proceeded to spank Conker with his hand,
groping and pawing at his sore hiney with each slap.
"That's it, Conker," he growled, "take it all." Conker's eyes
rolled back in his head as another wave of agony washed over
him. He could feel the warmth of Timmy's breath on his neck,
could feel the heat radiating from his body as he continued to
spank and grope him. The room began to spin, and Conker felt as
if he were floating away, detached from his own body.
The sensation of Timmy's hands on his backside lingered long
after the last slap had landed. Conker lay there, motionless and
numb, as the pain slowly began to recede. His body ached in
every muscle, and his bottom felt as if it had been set ablaze.
He wondered how long Timmy intended to keep him like this,
wondering if there would be any part of him left that wasn't
bruised and sore.
"I got a little present for you Conker, I'll be right back."
Timmy said, a few minutes later he returned a smaller, oval
shaped metal paddle, "Here smell it." Timmy ordered.
Conker hesitantly brought his nose close to the cold metal,
taking in the familiar scent of leather and polish. "It's the
same one..." he whispered.
"Yes, the one from the other day. I cleaned it up and oiled it.
It's all yours now," Timmy replied with a cruel grin. He paused
for a moment, watching the expression on Conker's face. "Don't
you want it?"
Conker hesitated. Part of him was terrified of the paddle, of
what it represented and what it would do to him. But another
part of him... another part of him was curious. He felt a
strange thrill course through him at the thought of being
spanked with it, of feeling the sting of the leather against his
sore backside. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yes...
I want it."
Timmy licked his lips and began to rub circles into Conker's big
behind with it, "Now tell me you love me!"
Conker closed his eyes, biting his lip as the cold metal made
contact with his aching skin. "I love you, Timmy," he whispered,
his voice trembling. He felt the weight of the paddle in Timmy's
hand, the way it threatened to tear him apart with every swing.
"That's it, Conker," Timmy growled, his breath hot against
Conker's ear. "Now show me how much you love me." There was a
pause, and then the first, stinging blow landed, sending a wave
of pain coursing through Conker's body. He cried out, his hips
bucking involuntarily as the leather connected with his sore
flesh.
Timmy didn't let up, the blows coming fast and hard. He
alternated between the metal paddle and his hand, each strike
sending a fresh surge of agony through Conker's aching backside.
Conker felt as if he were being flayed alive, as if every inch
of his skin was on fire.
"Tell me you're mine, Conker," Timmy panted, his breath hot
against Conker's neck. "Tell me you belong to me."
Conker could barely form the words through his sobs. "I'm... I'm
yours, Timmy," he managed to choke out. "I belong to you."
Timmy's grip on him tightened, his spanks landing harder and
faster. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.
"That's my Conker." He pulled Conker closer, positioning his
hips between his spread legs. With a groan, he guided his
hardened member to Conker's aching opening.
Conker's body arched in protest as Timmy thrust inside him,
filling the void left by the paddle. He cried out in pain,
feeling as if he were being torn apart. But beneath the agony,
there was a strange sense of belonging, of being claimed. Timmy
began to move inside him, their hips slapping together in a
brutal rhythm.
"A good spankin and a good ass fuckin, its what you deserve!"
Timmy said.
The pain was immense, but it was a pain that Conker had grown to
accept. It was a part of him now, a testament to his love for
Timmy. As their bodies moved together, Conker felt a strange
sense of peace wash over him. Despite the pain, despite the
brutality of their lovemaking, he knew that he belonged to
Timmy, and that Timmy's dick belonged to him.
Their movements became more frenzied, more primal. Conker threw
his head back, arching his back as Timmy's hips slammed into
him, his own hands digging into Timmy's flesh, urging him
deeper. The leather paddle and Timmy's hand continued to strike
his backside, each impact driving a fresh wave of agony through
him. But it was a pain he welcomed, a pain that made their
lovemaking all the more intense.
As they reached their climax together, Conker felt himself
spurting hot, sticky cum onto the bed. His body convulsed around
Timmy, gripping him tightly as his orgasm ripped through him. He
screamed out in ecstasy, his voice muffled by the pillow as his
muscles quivered and shook from the intensity of it all.
Timmy cried out as well, his hips bucking wildly as he emptied
himself deep inside Conker. His hands held Conker's head down
firmly, his body trembling with the release. Timmy's hand
continued to strike Conker's backside even as their passion
subsided, the sting of his palm mingling with the warmth of
their sweat and the smell of their skin.
Slowly, Timmy pulled out of Conker, his breath coming in ragged
gasps as he leaned over him. He gazed down at Conker's flushed
face and bit his lip, a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in
his eyes. "You're... you're amazing, Conker," he whispered,
stroking Conker's cheek with a trembling hand. "I love you so
much."
Conker looked up at Timmy, his own eyes glassy with emotion. "I
love you too, Timmy," he said softly. "More than anything." He
reached up, tentatively touching Timmy's cheek, feeling the
warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips.
Timmy smiled down at him, his expression softening further. "I
know you do, my Conker. I can see it in your eyes." He leaned
in, pressing their foreheads together. "Your ass is my
everything."
Conker closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Timmy's words, the
truth in them. He knew that he would never want anything more
than to belong to Timmy, to have Timmy's cock inside him,
filling him up. As their bodies cooled and their breathing
slowed, Conker felt a deep contentment wash over him.
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