Blood Ties
Respect
Summary: Being respectful is not optional, it mandatory!
Impliments: Hand, Hairbrush, implied Belt
Warnings: Armand is 17
Armand dropped his backpack to the floor just inside the front door and let out a heavy sigh. This had not been a good day. This had NOT been a good week. He’d gotten back a number of papers and tests today and had discovered that his lack of enthusiasm for study had made his grades less than satisfactory. Knowing how important Sire thought education to be, he knew he would have a sore rear by the end of the night. To top it all off, he had had to walk through the rain up the long, muddy lane that led from the bus stop to the house. Even though the days were still long this time of year, the rest of his family should be waking up in a few more hours and all of his problems could wait until then.
Usually he would immediately start on his homework, but it was a Friday and he had all weekend. As long as nobody noticed… A bit of a snack sounded good about now, he thought. He walked towards the kitchen, not seeing the footprints that were following him, left his disk-man on the foyer table and draped his coat over the back of a dining room chair on his way. He opened the fridge door and perused the top shelf, the only shelf containing ‘real’ food. All of the rest of the fridge was taken up by bags of blood, which were casually ignored.
After a moment Armand began removing ham, mayo, cheese and other makings of a sandwich as well as a Coke. He opened the bread and made two of the sandwiches, as well as a good deal of mess. Taking his bounty he traveled into the living room, leaving his muddied shoes just inside its door. Plopping down on the couch he turned on the T.V. and began flipping through channels.
Erik walked up the stairs from the basement bedroom he shared with his brothers He was almost always first up, but he heard wakening bodies moving below him and knew the others would soon join him. He was clad only in loose black pants; silk of course. A green shirt, also silk, was slung casually over his shoulder, opposite the long, freshly washed and plaited braid of dark brown hair on his other.
He walked into the foyer and stopped. He took in the dropped book-bag, the discarded cd player and the trail of muddy footprints. “Armand,” he called. He followed the muddy path through the dining room, eyeing the coat slung across the chair, about 5 feet from the coat rack, as he passed. “Armand,” he called again, becoming irate. Entering the kitchen he viewed the many leftovers on the counter. “Armand,” he yelled loudly and clearly. Erik headed towards the great room, where he could hear the T.V. blaring. Entering, he stumbled over a pair of muddy tennis shoes left there callously. On the couch lay the owner of said shoes, clicker in hand, and empty plate on the floor next to him, watching Dragon Ball Z.
He walked to the couch and leaned over the back of it. “Armand,” he screamed into the seemingly oblivious ear. The startled boy’s entire body jumped and ended up in a heap on the floor.
“Damn it Erik,” Armand said as he climbed to his feet, “what the hell is wrong with you.” He flopped back onto the couch before continuing. “Just figures you’d wake up with some damn problem. Don’t have to take it out on me, you bastard.”
“My problem,” Erik said through gritted teeth, “is you. Get off your butt and go clean up the messes you left in the kitchen, the dining room and the foyer.”
“Yeah, yeah,” responded the boy with the wave of a hand, “I’ll get to it when my show is over.”
“Now,” said Erik.
“I said I’d do it when my show is over, asshole.”
“I said you were to do it now, and if I hear one more foul word out of your mouth I’ll tell Sire,” replied Erik. It was not an empty threat. Sire did not approve of foul language though most of the childer let it go because he was still a kid. At least by their standards. And because they slipped sometimes too of course. Usually Erik wasn’t so stiff, but Armand had been downright boorish lately. It was fairly obvious that he wasn’t concentrating in school and he hadn’t been doing his chores, which had left his brothers to pick up after him. He knew they would because if one person’s work wasn’t done, they all got into trouble.
All the childer were pretty fed up with the whole business, and Erik absolutely REFUSED to clean up his mess this time. They all knew that it would only take a word to Sire for it all to be straightened out, but they were usually reluctant to get each other into trouble and they had all thought that it was just a down time and that the boy would resume his usual activities within a few days. It had now been more than two weeks, and Erik decided it was going to end NOW.
“Get. Up. And. Get. To. Work.” He said, making each word a sentence.
Armand knew from the tone of his brother’s voice that doing as he was asked, or told, was probably a good thing, but it had been a very stressful day and he just didn’t want to see the warning signs. Who did this jerk think he was anyways? Just because he was a full vampire didn’t give him the right to boss Armand around. Well, it did but he was conveniently ignoring that fact for the moment. What it all amounted to was that Armand just wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around. He blew.
“Who the hell do you think you are? I am not doing what you say just because you say it, asshole. You’re a mother fucking, cold hearted bastard as far as I’m concerned and you can just go fuck yourself for good measure!”
The stunned look on the childe’s face was priceless, but Armand began to think that he had made a mistake when the face came to possess a highly unamused scowl. With a speed Armand couldn’t believe, much less see, he found himself yanked from the couch and replaced by Erik between who’s knees he now stood, slightly stunned. The vampire quickly unfastened the jeans he wore and pulled them down while pulling him over silk covered thighs. He suddenly began to comprehend what was about to happen.
“Hey, stop. No, Erik stop. Don’t,” he cried frantically while violently struggling to escape. He almost succeeded in clawing his way off of the lap before being pulled back into place and a strong left hand anchoring him around the waist. “Please, Erik, don’t spank me!”
He knew that Erik really had every right to spank him. All the childer had the right to discipline the childes made after them, but they very rarely exercised the prerogative among themselves. This was not the first time Armand had found himself in such a position, but he knew that another of Sire’s rules was that if one of his brothers had to discipline him then they would repeat the experience over the Master’s knees. And he already had a punishment coming tonight; he really didn’t feel like he needed anymore. This did not stop Erik’s resolve one bit.
“I warned you about that foul language. You also know better than to disrespect me in that manner. We are all brothers here but you are in desperate need of a little discipline right now. I will put up with a lot but you have pushed me beyond my limits.” Erik ceased speaking with words and began speaking with the palm of his hand applied to Armand’s backside. SPANK!! A red handprint now marred the pale flesh. Another joined it a second later. He was only using as much force as he deemed necessary but he was also applying his hand only to the boy’s sit spot. It only took four swats before Armand was crying out with each strike and by the end of ten he was just crying and begging to be let up. Erik added another five until the boy was sobbing, though he suspected that it was more from humiliation than from pain.
Without saying another word Erik lifted the boy and carried him by his arms to face the nearest corner, pants still puddled around his ankles, to let him cry himself out.
Paulos woke to the sounds of sobbing. He quickly reached through his link to each of his childer and found none of them injured. That only left one possibility. He rose and quickly dressed in his usual black slacks and white renaissance style shirt before heading downstairs. As he entered the foyer he saw the muddy tracks and discarded belongings and quickly came to the same conclusion as Erik had. “Armand,” he called out.
In the living room Erik cocked his head towards the sound. He knew Armand hadn’t heard the sounds because of the t.v. and his own sobs. Silently he headed through the house towards his Master’s voice. “Sire,” he said in greeting when he saw the now stormy faced vampire. He was very glad that that look was not directed at him. “He’s in the living room,” he said in reply to the eyebrow raised questioningly.
Together they headed through the dining room and the kitchen. At the sights that greeted them there, Paulos scowled and began to mutter about waste and responsibility. “I assume this has something to do with Armand’s crying,” the vampire said.
“Yes, Sire,” Erik replied, “he refused to clean up his mess, again, and the language he expressed this with was less than desirable. I turned him over my knee before he could think and now he is in the corner.”
They entered the great room at this point and the Master looked to the now sniffling boy. At the sight of the still red rear he commented, “Nice job.”
Armand recognized the sound of the Sire’s voice immediately and dread filled him. “Oh, shit,” he whispered before he could stop himself. He held his breath hoping that the vampires hadn’t heard.
No such luck. The superior vampire hearing of both men caused them both to look sharply at the frozen boy. Erik could hardly believe that the boy had been stupid enough to use such language in the Master’s presence. Paulos raised a hand and the t.v. remote flew quickly into it. He pressed the power button and the room was plunged into silence. The boy pressed his head against the wall and groaned.
“Armand,” said Paulos.
“Yes, Sire,” he whispered in dejected reply.
“Go get the hairbrush.”
“Sire, please…. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
He was cut off by a sharp, “NOW, halfling”
With another sob the boy turned from the corner and kicked off his pants to do as told. He knew there was no use pulling them up when they would quickly be coming right back down. He slowly moved towards the doorway, trying to edge around the two vampires. Suddenly the Master grabbed his arm and turned him to land one firm blow to his sore butt. “Oww.”
“Quickly, halfling,” intoned the Master in warning.
Armand picked up his pace and hurried up the steps to his Masters only recently abandoned quarters to grab the heavy ebony hairbrush from the mirrored dresser before heading back down. He reentered the living room to find his Sire already seated upon the couch. Walking forward, he knelt next to him and offered the hairbrush. “I submit myself for punishment Master,” he said in ritual. He felt the brush taken from his hand and then the unexpected lifting of his chin by his Master’s fingers.
“Can you tell me what your being punished for, Armand,” asked Paulos.
“For making Erik mad at me and using bad language,” he replied.
“No,” said Sire, “It’s for not being responsible enough to do as you know you should in the first place. You are to take care of your belongings properly, leave muddy shoes at the entrance, put away food when your done with it and keep a civil and respectful tongue in your head.” Paulos shook his head in confusion. “These are all things you know well. I don’t know what caused this but I intend to end it. You will also begin doing your own chores and not letting your brothers do them for you. The fact that Erik spanked you at all indicates that things have gone on for far longer than they should have. You know the rules, my boy. Now over my knees.”
Silently Armand did so, a tear already rolling down his cheek. He felt the cool firmness of the brush on his backside before it was abruptly lifted away. He tensed in anticipation, but still gasped when it was just as abruptly reapplied very firmly. The hairbrush landed heavily and Armand began to cry out with each strike. Immediately he again began to beg. “Please, Sire, that’s enough. I can’t- owww, I can’t take anymore. Ahhhhhh. Please stop, Master.” But the spanking continued with smacks to sit spot and back of thighs until he lay sobbing limply.
Paulos tenderly rubbed the boy’s back until the sobbing calmed and then lifted him onto his lap to cuddle, disregarding the hiss of pain when now red flesh met rough pant material. “Shhhhh,” he murmured pleasantly, “It’s all over now and your forgiven.” He turned up the flushed face and placed a gentle but passionate kiss on the boys lips. Armand returned the kiss and then snuggled close to his Master, breathing in his spicy scent as he calmed. Erik was seated next to them, running a hand caressingly through the Master’s hair.
Sire finally began to speak again, thinking to end the encounter on a pleasant note. “So how was school today? Did you get those papers back,” he asked.
Armand’s hand clenched convulsively on Paulos’s shirt and he groaned. He pressed his face back into the hollow where neck and shoulder met and began to cry again.
Erik stopped what he was doing and looked at the boy saying, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, agreed the Master, “It most definitely doesn’t. Well, Armand, I guess you should go and get my belt.”
Armand sobbed louder but slid off of the suddenly less comfortable lap and went to do as told. The entire way he thought just one thing. This simply wasn’t his day.