"Come here," his foster father ordered in a stern tone. Kitarō shrugged his shoulders, his feet didn't move. "Come here. I won't say it again, Kitachan."

The boy felt his back tingle and finally took a step forward, then another and another until he was facing Ikkokudo.

"Lie down," the man said and patted his own lap twice.

The smell of incense left on Ikkokudo's shirt after being at work at the university all day made Kitarō lick his lips for a moment, then he settled on his stomach: belly on the man's lap and knees bent. "I'm not a little boy anymore," he thought in confusion.

But it wasn't a quick punishment like the previous times, when he was a child. This time his foster father pulled down his pants along with his underwear. He felt his little bottom exposed and blushed, embarrassed.

"Oto-san...," Kitarō was about to get up but Ikkokudo brought his wrists behind his back and held them tightly, rendering him immobile. "Oto-san, I'm sorry..."

"And I accept your apology," he replied, "but we'd better do something to make you reflect on your behavior and think things through better before you throw another tantrum, Kitachan. Don't you think I'm right?

A blow landed on his left buttock, hard and concise. Kitarō let out a low groan and bit his lip hard as his entire face began to turn the color of lychee just like his punished butt.

Ikkokudo paused briefly between blows. He could appreciate the sound of each smack, the whimpers Kitarō tried to stifle and the frus frus his lowered pants made when he moved his feet. It was strange, as humiliating as it was... pleasurable?

"Oh, no..."

Soon Ikkokudo would notice that adolescent hardness against his lap.