Aragorn stood silently at the door to Faramir's room, watching
as his Steward stood on the stone balcony, staring out at the dark night
sky. Although he had been healed, Aragorn could tell that Faramir was
still not at his best; his sagging posture spoke of his tiredness.
"You should be resting still," Aragorn commented,
bringing Faramir out of his thoughts. "You have yet to be fully
healed."
Faramir spun around quickly when he heard the voice. Recognizing
his new king, he relaxed, but bowed and spoke quietly. "I am healed
enough, sire," Faramir said.
"Call me Aragorn," he said with a smile, but Faramir
shook his head, looking shocked.
"I could never, sire. Such is not my place," he
explained hurriedly, noticing the frown that shadowed Aragorn's face.
"You are my king, and I must refer to you as such. I am just your
Steward, who must obey your command."
Aragorn straightened his back and looked his Steward in the
eye. "Well then, is there naught I could do to change your mind
on this matter?"
"No, sire, there is not," Faramir stood a little
straighter with this declaration, proving himself to be every bit as
stubborn as his mother had been.
"Are you sure of this?"
"Yes, sire."
An odd gleam came into Aragorn's eyes. "And if I were
willing to attempt to prove you wrong?"
Faramir watched warily as his king approached him. "Then
I would let you attempt, but I must warn you that you would not succeed."
"We shall see about that. Now, come with me," Aragorn
beckoned, leading the Steward towards his bedchamber. Faramir noted
wryly that he could hardly object, what with his hand being held so
tightly in Aragorn's own.
The two men stopped at Faramir's bed.
"Sire?" Faramir asked hesitantly, confused.
Aragorn didn't answer, only sat down on the bed and pulled
Faramir to his side. Looking into his Steward's grey eyes, he spoke.
"Would a spanking change your mind, Faramir?"
Faramir, for a moment, couldn't answer. He spluttered, shocked
at the king's words. Aragorn smirked good-naturedly, trying not to laugh
at Faramir's astonishment. Not wanting to wait until Faramir regained
his senses and tried to flee, Aragorn pulled the younger man down over
his lap. Immediately Faramir began to struggle.
"Stop, release me please. I beg of you sire, let me
go!"
Again, Aragorn didn't answer. He was too busy trying to keep
a hold of the struggling Steward. Using his elven-quick reflexes, Aragorn
grabbed Faramir's wrists and held them tightly against the young man's
small back. He used his free hand to tug down Faramir's dark green leggings.
The young man let out a whimper of protest as he felt the cool night
air rush along his bare backside.
"Once last chance, Faramir," Aragorn said, running
his strong hand softly along the Steward's pale buttocks. "What
shall you call me?"
But Faramir, despite his completely humiliating and compromising
situation, gritted his teeth and answered truthfully. "You are
my king, sire."
"Very well." And with that, Aragorn raised his
hand and brought it down smartly upon Faramir's unprotected backside.
He paused for a minute, waiting for a reaction, but when he didn't get
one, he simply raised his hand and let it fall again even harder. This
time his sharp hearing picked up the faintest gasp. Glad that he was
able to make an impression on Faramir, Aragorn began spanking in earnest.
SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!! There was no pattern to it; Aragorn spanked
everywhere and alternated between medium and super hard smacks. First
he focused on the center of the Steward's arse, then he moved downwards
towards the crease and the tops of his pale thighs, before moving upwards
again. When Faramir's backside had turned a light shade of red, and
the king's own hand was smarting, Aragorn decided to give Faramir a
chance to end the punishment.
"What is my name, Faramir?" Aragorn asked calmly.
Releasing the lip that Faramir had been holding tightly between
his teeth, he ground out his answer.
"King Elessar, sire."
"Hmm. I see that it takes a little more to sway you,
my dear Steward," Aragorn commented as he stilled his hand. Faramir
could hear rustling in the doors beside the bed, where he kept his bedclothes
and other useful items. Although worried about what was to come next,
the young man took a deep breath, pleased for the breather. Suddenly
he yelped and his whole body jumped as a sharp pain spread through his
already aching backside.
Aragorn nodded with satisfaction at Faramir's reaction, and
the deep red mark on his backside, before bringing the hairbrush back
down again. A strangled sob escaped his throat and Faramir, ashamed,
struggled to keep control of his emotions.
"Let it out, Faramir," the dark-haired man crooned
softly.
"No!" Faramir nearly sobbed at the pain, his grey
eyes filled with tears.
"Your stubbornness is costing you dearly," Aragorn
sighed. Wanting the punishment to end, he brought the hairbrush down
smack in the middle of Faramir's buttocks, overtop of two deep red splotches.
With a heart-wrenching scream, Faramir burst into tears.
"Aragorn, stop! Please!" he sobbed, lying limply
over the ranger's lap.
"So, it takes a sound spanking for you to be able to
call me Aragorn, does it?" he asked with a smirk, laying down the
hairbrush. Gently, he stroked the Steward's hair and back, his careful
ministrations working their way closer and closer to the swollen red
backside.
"I do not mean to tease Faramir," Aragorn said.
"I only wished to teach you that you are a valuable person to me,
a friend. A friend, admittedly, who could do with a little less stubbornness."
"You have a funny way of showing it," Faramir complained,
his tone petulant. But Aragorn heard the smile in his voice. The king
helped his Steward up off of his lap, steadying the young man. It was
then that Aragorn caught sight of the Steward's weeping erection.
Faramir hung his head in shame, certain that his king would
shove him to the floor in disgust, but Aragorn did no such thing. Instead
he reached for the swollen organ and squeezed it gently. Moaning at
the sensation, Faramir shoved his hips forward, yearning to feel it
again. He flushed in embarrassment, but Aragorn smiled and began to
pump his fist up and down the leaking hardness, gradually getting faster
and faster. The Steward kept his eyes firmly shut, not wanting to betray
his feelings or let the king see how much he was enjoying the ministrations.
"Open your eyes," Aragorn commanded softly. "Do
not be embarrassed. I want you to enjoy this. Please, open your eyes
Faramir."
Startled by the king's honesty and genuine desire to pleasure
him, the Steward, Faramir opened his eyes, his gaze immediately caught
by the king's own.
Aragorn placed his fingers on Faramir's soft lips and, without
thinking, Faramir opened his mouth and took them into his mouth. He
sucked on them for a moment, wetting them, before Aragorn withdrew them.
Faramir had only a moment to think about what the king was planning
to do with them before he felt his buttocks gently being spread and
a fingertip circling the entrance to his body. His whole body jerked
upwards in surprise, but Aragorn held him still.
"Trust me," he whispered, pushing the finger in
all the way in one slow thrust. Faramir gritted his teeth, feeling a
burn not only on the outside of his bottom, but also on the inside.
Aragorn dragged the finger out a little bit, before pushing it back
into the hot passage. A small whimper escaped the Steward's throat at
the pain.
"Trust me Faramir," Aragorn whispered again and,
sure enough, the pain began to slowly subside. Aragorn added a second
finger, stretching the anal muscles as carefully as he could. This time
the pain subsided faster, and Faramir began to enjoy the motion. Still
pumping the Steward's cock, the king curled the two fingers inside the
fair-haired man's body, pushing against his prostate. The effect was
instantaneous. Faramir cried out loudly in pleasure and came hard. Aragorn
held him as the aftershocks moved through the Steward's tired body.
Carefully, so as not to hurt Faramir or his well-spanked bottom, Aragorn
removed his fingers.
He captured his Steward's lips in a gentle kiss before hugging
him tightly. Faramir, first rigid, slowly relaxed into the comforting
grasp. Aragorn looked his new friend sternly in the eye.
"Anymore such foolishness, my Steward," Aragorn
said with a smile, "Will earn you yet another trip over my knee.
Is this understood?"
"Yes, sire," Faramir said demurely, thinking that
perhaps another spanking was not such a bad idea if it meant another
wonderful orgasm. Aragorn raised his hand and gave the fair-haired Steward
a quick, but sound, smack on his backside. Faramir yelped.
"I mean yes… Aragorn."
Aragorn smiled. "I may be your king, but I am first
and foremost your friend, Faramir. Remember that."
With that, he placed Faramir face-down on the bed and laid
down beside him. Without hesitation Faramir lifted his fair head and
placed it on Aragorn's chest, nuzzling into the king's shirt. Aragorn
smiled at his Steward and the two soon fell asleep.
The End
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