Soul Eater: Shinigami Trouble (For Rahl)

[*starfruits*]

Shinigami waited for Kid's response to his order, gazing at the boy, now stood stationary in a stance of pure disbelieving horror; one usually displayed when a set of knives and forks did not share absolute symmetry with the other side of the platter which it bordered. Without complaint, one of the Kishin Sealer's wispy black arms encircled the white and black haired youth's waist; effortlessly lifting him off the ground, and then sending him forward.

Eyes bound by blood met for a long moment, as the two just stared: spirals into gold. After a time, Shinigami spoke up again, "Kiddo, you're familiar with 'spanking', ne?" he did not flounder, tilt his head, or coo playfully. He simply stared, "I did not order you as ruler of Shibuzen, but as a 'papa'-" he mentally scorned himself, vowing to give a certain red-headed playboy a taste of his patented 'Shinigami Chop' when they met up again. Nevertheless, he hastily continued, "-As your father, I asked you to try hard to overcome your own demons, but you wouldn't do it, even for me," the dark eyes of the sacred God's mask conveyed sadness, "Kiddo... in truth, I don't care about your grades, because I am well aware that you are several cuts above the best. I will always stand by your ability, no matter what you do. Words on paper mean nothing to me, nor do they govern in the heart or Kishin-hunts. All that I care about is that... shaaa... that you so easily disregard my instructions in favour of your own... b-beliefs. Hobbies," he sweated a little, finding it hard to brand shame on his child's 'mental conditioning', "Kiddo... they get you in trouble. I want you to learn some restraint..." . For his own sake, and the sake of his father. He then nodded, loosening the bonds about his son very slightly, "So, as any other father in such a position... I'm going to have to give you a good penalty. Like this;" he made gestures in the air, the binds that held Kid up angling his lithe frame a tad so that he could see the motions clearly, "Like this, like this! A good spanking."

With that said, Kid was hefted into the air, and turned on his front, as Shinigami-sama eased him down over his lap, so that the boy's legs and his arms were lying upon the satin mattress. He wanted his offspring to be comfortable as well as himself; they might be there for some time, after all. A large gloved hand slinked down and gave the taut young backside over his lap a ginger pat, whilst the other lay upon the young Death’s back, effectively arching the firm cheeks, encased in dark cloth, upwards as a more ample target.

[rahl]

Kidd was snapped back to reality when his father's "arms" lifted him off the ground, nullifying any hope for escape in an instant. He didn't fight against it, partly because for the first time in his life he was scared of his father's powers, and yet the other part was because out of pride.

As scared as he was of corporal punishment, he knew he was far stronger in mind and body than many of the humans he saw depicted in books. Surely he'd be able to take some....strokes, no? Besides, hadn't Shinigami just scolded him about having more dignity over the rest of the students?

He stared at his father's eyes. Most people thought they were bottomless pits of black, but Kidd had often seen the playful spirals that covered the visor. They were so serious right now, he almost failed to recognize his father.
But he had always known there was a somber side to the Death God. He had always known his father could truly get angry. He hoped with all his might that right now he was merely irked.
He held his head down in shame. He had never truly dissapointed his father before and he knew that since the Death God was so lenient, the fact that he had decided to punish him was because he had finally snapped.

Kidd was still a bit confused, trying to process all the events, so he didn't really listen to his father. Looking up with pleading eyes, he only heard the last bit of his lecture:
"So, as any other father in such a position... I'm going to have to give you a good penalty. Like this;" he made gestures in the air, the binds that held Kid up angling his lithe frame a tad so that he could see the motions clearly, "Like this, like this! A good spanking."

Kidd didn't know if he should be happy that there wouldn't be any tools used during this, after all, Shinigami's hands (he noticed in alarm) were huge.

His stomach became an ever tighter knot when he was suddenly lifted by those otherwordly limbs and dropped over his father's lap. On his solar plexus he could feel the Death God's legs underneath his etheral robe, reminding him that Shinigami had once had a more human appearance, like himself. But he couldn't pause to think about how his father could look underneath his mask and robe since he had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

[*starfruits*]

The huge hand seemed somewhat out of place in the scene: the chunky, playful palms and fingers seeming stark against the wispy, graceful black that encircled Shinigami, and the immaculate, stylish garb that the young Death wore. The Death God did not remove that hand, however, and simply moved its gargantuan twin to Kid's shoulders, splaying out the digits, keeping the boy firmly in place over his parent’s lap, exerting no real pressure due to the youth's stillness. That was bound to change in such an activity, Shinigami reasoned, so he was resolute in keeping it there.

Noting the still figure across his lap, he broadened up his design more so, wanting to keep his will firm for the task that was to be done. The eyes of his skull mask narrowed, and he rose up his right arm, the giant pallid palm seeming to quiver ever so slightly, before the spirals within the sockets of his bone mask seemed to blink.

He paused, tilting his head to the left, feeling Kid shift over him, highlighting the boy's uneasiness and his body weight, before Shinigami sprang back to life once more. "Maa... I've forgotten something." Moving his left hand under his spawn, the Lord of Reapers lifted the young man up, his hips at least, and with his other hand undid the clasps of Kid's trousers, loosening them at the waist. With that done, Kid was placed back down, and a giant thumb pressed under the loosened band of his trousers and underwear, and with a deft and swift yank, both garments were stripped from the young Death's backside, uncovering a perfectly unblemished pair of taut, round, and pale cheeks, "Gomen ne! It's my first time, so I have to see how it'll react~” Shinigami mewled, genuinely apologetic for causing the boy any discomfort besides what had to be done. Kiddo was a sheltered soul, didn't like to flaunt himself around like other Shibuzen youths (that boy, BlackStar, was one such youth who wasn't afraid to 'show it off'), even getting embarrassed if his own parent saw him without all of his clothes. Shinigami would have assured the boy that he looked exactly as his father did when he was his age... minus the unperfected, asymmetrical bangs, so he knew everything there was to know about his son physically and spiritually, but felt that in this day and age, that kind of talk was not constructive. That is what Stein-kun had told him many times.

Shinigami sighed inwardly. 'This generation is pretty pedantic, ne...'

"After all... I don't want to hurt any more than you deserve, Kiddo," Shinigami finished, after tearing himself from his thoughts. He raised his hand once more, and after a moment, slammed the broad palm and fingers down upon the ashen behind, smothering the pastel flesh and muscle beneath his potent glove. When he raised it again, a faint pink hue began to rapidly spread, and the Death God was able to pinpoint what level of beating his treasured spawn could take.

[rahl]

If Kidd was tense when he landed over his father's lap, when his trousers went down he was beyond tense. He was absolutely mortified.

He knew it was ridiculous to be embarrassed to be seen bare by the person who watched you be born (however hazy the explanation for that event was), but he had always been shy about how his body looked.
After all, he could control the firmness of his muscles by exercise, but not the appearance of his skin. The bane of his existence was a birth mark slightly to the right of his navel. It was as if the forces of nature conspired to laugh at him, and gave him something that he could not alter to make symmetrical.
It was even worse than his uneven bangs, where the white stripes at least had the decency to be straight. The birth mark didn't look like anything, just as if he had spilled some drink on himself.

But right now he wasn't worrying so much about Shinigami noticing the asymmetries of his body as he was about the reason the Reaper was pulling his pants down. Even if he apologized and told him it was to hurt him less, Kidd somehow suspected it was going to be worse without the protection of the strong black demin cloth. He didn't notce he was breathing again, though it was a rather agitated intake of air.

When the first stroke came, Kid felt the full force of it and he winced in response, but no sound escaped him.
As his father withdrew his hand, he continued wincing, closing one eye at the sting, but his breathing eased somewhat.

It hurt, yes, but he'd had worse pains buring battles with Kishins. During his battle with the "pharaoh" he had felt he was bleeding to death while the prefectly symmetrical monster attacked him over and over. This couldn't be worse, no....?

He forgot to brace himself for the second smack, so it caught him by surprise.

[*starfruits*]

Taking his spawn's modest wince as a carrot dangled, Shinigami raised his hand a tad higher, just touching fingers before his shoulder, and sent the potent white limp down, smacking into his offspring's firm backside with a resonant crack that echoed throughout the room and settled. It was then that the Death God set about a rhythm, raising palm and then slamming it down smoothly, as though he did this each and every day; as though taking his wayward son over his lap was as commonplace as his afternoon tea with Spirit-kun.

The sounds of concrete hand slamming into finely-muscled behind rang out in the otherwise tranquil room, each solid spank spanning from Kid's upper thighs, to his shoulders; even sending his mismatched hair wavering. Shinigami kept his attention on his heir's rump as he proceeded on, noting every twist of skin, ripple of flesh, watching the pale cheeks begin to fade, snow melting to uncover rosy red, "Iya, iya, iya..." the happy-go-lucky ethereal entity scolded, spanking away at his son's round buns like a diligent machine.

[rahl]

The young Shingami couldn't help the small gasp that escaped him at the second smack. It was stronger than the first one and his butt still hurt! He hoped this to end as soon as possibly, but he knew it was only the beginning

As the strokes kept falling and falling, his whole body twitching with each smack, Kidd's eyes widened in shock. He soon discovered that while one spank he could endure, the sting was cumulative.
Each time Shinigami's hand came down, it was as if he was doing it with twice the force as before. Still clenching his teeth, he propped up his elbows on his bed and dug his nails into his palms, trying his best to endure his punishment in silence and dignity.

But the more the Reaper spanked him, the more his will chipped away and he felt more and more guilty for disillusioning his father. Man, he must be really dissapointed to hit him like this! He tried not to think about that, pushing the thought to the back of his mind to focus on enduring.

At least Kidd couldn't hold himself any longer and shifted his weight against Shinigami's hand on his back, trying to get at least a bit out of the of the way of the unrelenting hand.

[*starfruits*]

Shinigami sensed the tiny rebellion before Kid even moved, and without taking his spiral gaze from the younger shinigami's backside, the black-clad entity pressed his gargantuan hand down more firmly. Even that gentle weight and pressure was enough to brace the little Death back on his front, chest touching shadowed lap, and then, rich satin bedclothes as Shinigami scooped his son up by the waist, and then laid him back down, "Kiddo," he chided in his habitual voice, "don't try to block it, sa? It'll only take longer, and make it sting even worse," feeling Kid's efforts die down for a moment, he nodded with fondness for the youth, cute senzu lines and all, "That's it! Now, where was I?" With this change of pace, the Shibuzen Master-Soul had deposited Kid's bottom in pride of place over his shrouded thighs, the rosy, warmed cheeks elevated to meet his determined palm, sit-spots and upper thighs now exposed amply for punishment, "Osu! Here it comes!"

Aiming a solid smack where his problematic spawn's toned butt met lean, smooth white thighs, the Keeper of Souls settled back into his rhythm, now focusing on Kid's tender under curve. It would be an excellent incentive for Kiddo to feel this sting every time he sat down for the next day or so, when he was mapping out how he would comb his hair or iron his clothes for the next week. The Kishin Reaper sighed within himself. He doubted that this would be the last visit his hand would have to make for his son's vulnerable rump, but, he hoped foolishly anyway.

[rahl]

Kidd chided himself for opposing his father, however slightly, in a situation were rebellion would only make it worse. And now he was paying the price! He couldn't believe it, but the smacks aimed at his lower butt hurt even more.

He resisted the over-powering urge to protect himself as best as he could. Trying to cover his punished rear with his hands would only make Shinigami more aggravated and that would lead to no good.

But it hurt so much! Already Kidd could feel tears burning in the back of his eyes. He shook his head, telling himself to show Father how strong he was, how much he could endure without crying, ignoring all the times before when he had been bawling over those irritating white stripes on his bangs.

He shifted his legs again, unconsiously trying to loosed the Grim Reaper's grip on him.
"Ngh!"

It took him a few seconds to realize it had been him that made that sound. He covered his own mouth, cursing himself for crying out after....how many spanks?
It hit him that he didn't know how many times Shinigami had smacked his bottom. What if it was an un-symmetrical number? That would be horrible!

Wait, aren't I getting punished for letting symmetry become too much my priority? But....he could end int a horrible number, like fifty seven! No, I must have self-control! At least an even number wouldn't be so terrible!

Having such a conundrum while being spanked by a strong Death God with hands many times the normal size wouldn't be easy for anyone.
The heir Shinigami involuntarily let out another small whimper.

[*starfruits*]

The Kishin Soul Reaper regarded his son with a heavy heart for a moment, noting the small whimper that escaped the boy's lips, before he sent his palm crashing down yet again. The taut buns barely quivered at the meaty, powerful strikes, but Shinigami knew well that they were feeling the heat. He perceived every wince, rosy fade, every clench of the bare cheeks, dimpling in order to relieve the sting that the colossal palm brought to them. When Kidd attempted to move, or shift his legs, the older Death spirit would send a duo of smarting claps to his upper thighs as a reward, turning pale, untouched flesh a blazing pink.

"I want you to start acting more responsibly in the future, please, Kiddo," Shinigami began, feeling that the silence had drawn on long enough. All the while his white glove rose and fell, thoroughly pounding his son's unclothed backside without a breath of visible mercy, "I want you to try your best to conquer that little, bad habit of yours..." he spoke about his problematic son's 'problem' as though he had caught the boy smoking, "Because when you disobey me again due to that... you'll start getting used to the position you're in~!" at the closing sentence, Shinigami raised a finger and tilted his head, his jagged cloak end 'twanging'. He allowed Kid to reflect for a moment, giant hands giving his offspring's sore behind a slow knead of apology, only to rise up again. Iya. Kiddo would learn his lesson only if he was firm with him. With that thought in mind, the Shibuzen Lord carried on, turning his spawn's exposed rump the colour of ripe red apples.

[rahl]

It took a lot of self-control not to cry out when Shinigami spanked him twice in the upper thighs. He didn't move on purpose! Still stifling his cries, Kidd buried his face on his arms, feeling the soft bedcover on his cheek.
Then the Reaper began his scolding.

"Because when you disobey me again due to that... you'll start getting used to the position you're in~!"

At his father's comment and during the subsequent pause, Kidd tried to twist around to see Shinigami's face, or rather mask, to see if the God of Death was serious. Was he truly planning on punishing him like this in the future?

Most people couldn't tell the changes in the Reaper's mood unless they were drastic, but a lifetime of living with the physical impersonation of the finality of life had taught Kid the subtle things to look for in his father's countenance.
He could tell Shinigami was serious.

As he strokes began coming down again, Kidd buried his face again in his arms, but not to stifle his whimpers or grunts of pain, but to hide his face in shame. It began to sink how much Shinigami had been putting up with to conform to his symmetry passion.

Kidd loved his father with filial loyalty, but he rarely had the chance to tell him how much he truly respected him, how much he truly admired him. All Shinigami got to see of him was his demands to make everything match, never a subject more etheral, which they could both relate to.

Salty warm tears were wetting his cheeks, but he didn't know when he started crying.