Turnabout Spanking

[Said]

The spiky haired lawyer felt his heart began to thud quickly in his chest and his stomach go into knots. His fears of Godot's intentions were confirmed when he felt himself being moved into an even more undignified and compromising position, his behind now raised upwards while his head and torso were lower. He felt almost like he would have been in danger of just sliding off of the prosecutor's lap, had a strong hand- worryingly strong considering what was about to happen to him- not been pinning him down there.

As he felt a large hand, Godot's calm certainty and sureness of purpose seeming to radiate from the palm, rest on his backside, he couldn't help but hitching his breath in anticipation.

"W-Wait- Hang on I-" Wright began, but before he could think of any valid objections or even anything to stall with, he felt, and heard, the first heavy handed slap land on his helpless butt.

He immediately let out a yelp of surprise and jerked forwards at the impact, his hands flailing in front of him, half in panic, half in a futile attempt to wriggle away. "Stop, stop!"

If he had had time to consider his words, he would know that the pleas after just one swat were useless, but they were merely a gut reaction to the sudden embarrassing and painful situation that he had found himself in.

[lilac]

The pleas did nothing to cause the prosecutor to pause for thought - they fell on deaf ears.

No, that wasn't quite true. That was an objection worthy contradiction, in fact, because the wire-haired man's grin curled upwards and onwards still, thoroughly enjoying this little lesson a little more than he had ever intended.

Taking a more steadfast grip of Phoenix, prone over his lap, Godot began to slam his palm down again and again, showing unfair favour to the very seat of the kid's pants, right where that fine, biking butt had the least lean muscle to tense, right where it was softest and produced the swiftest sting.

[Said]

The prosecutor's strategy was effective, his aim for the most tender of spots on the blue clad butt being effective in making the unfortunate defense attorney cry out and struggle in futility.
He wasn't able to squirm around too much, since the grip on him was firm and he didn't want to slide off and land right on his face, but he was also unable to stay still during the series of merciless slaps.

"A-Ahh! Oww!" His spiky head jerking back, a pink blush still obvious on his face. He wasn't exactly taking the spanking bravely, but he didn't have time to worry about that between the short intervals of each punishing swat.

He wanted to question why Godot was doing this. If this was what he meant be 'advice'. But he couldn't get the words out between his yelps. Each time he started and half a word was formed, it was interrupted by a slap and a following yelp.

[lilac]

A swift scare always proved to last longer in a man's mind than good advice.

That's what Godot believed, anyway.

WHAP! WHAM! WHACK!

The melody that the prosecutor played across the defense attorney's tender rump was a violent one.

After his awoke from his poison induced coma, Godot had been alone with his thoughts. Introverted. The social, amiable and fun-loving man that he had once been had descended into a different monster entirely. He walked the streets alone, went to the gym and cafes in the late hours of the night. The early hours of the morning. Witching hour.

His body was big, and his muscles more well trained than they had ever been before he went into hospital by a cruel kitten's hand. Physio and gym. His new coffee and cream. Although he liked it blacker.

As a result, his spanks packed a real wallop.

He chuckled.

"Making more sense right now, Trite, than you have throughout your court case today..."

[Said]

Wright didn't stand much of a chance holding out against the harsh punishment, his yelps soon sounding more desperate. It was true that he had both his pants and his underwear to shield his rear from the smacks, but they seemed to provide little padding. The thin fabric of both garments doing next to nothing to lessen the sting.

He couldn't have been over the other man's lap for long, but already he felt tears threaten to drop from his eyes, as they collected in the corners of them. The sharp swats being very effective in their purpose.

His struggles began to lessen, being subdued to the occasional twitch and and jerk at a swat. His yelps more like wails.
He was sure he sounded pitiful and childish, but this was a childish position to be in. It would be futile and just as ridiculous to try to pretend to be unaffected when that heavy hand landed again and again on his already tender rump.

[lilac]

Godot registered this, he was enjoying the younger man's plight and his vain struggles. He wondered if that made him a masochistic. A bad man.

He WAS enjoying himself. But was it beating out frustration? Working the younger guy over?

He was enjoying the way it felt to be close to another person for the first time in three years locked in a limbo hell. His own Elysian Fields.

He wouldn't ever admit that he enjoyed Phoenix's heat.

The devastating, unwarranted barrage of smacks slowed, but didn't stop, as the coffee-lover finally piped up again, his deep voice strong and sultry in the otherwise quiet office, "Pop quiz, Trite. Are you a gambling man...?"

[Said]

Wright was caught by surprise when he heard the other man's deep voice ask him a question. As usual, it was clearly something that didn't have a straightforward meaning. It wasn't just a simple 'Would you like me to stop?'

He swallowed deeply, his adam's apple bobbing slightly and he shook his head.
"N-Not really," He responded, his voice betraying the tears in his eyes.

He didn't mean to lie, but anyone who knew the defense attorney or had seen him regularly in court would have known that Phoenix Wright was prone to gambling. He might not go out to the slot machines or play cards for vast amounts of money... But his strategy in court was not akin to a man who avoided risks. Wright was definitely a gambling man, but he didn't know what Godot wanted from him, so out of instinct, he gave the answer that he thought was the correct one to give when asked that question.

[lilac]

The OBJECTION to the statement rang out like a gunshot in the Wright Anything Agency office, as Godot's willful palm cracked solidly into the younger man's hot seat, as he
was IN the hotseat, almost propelling the kid face-first into the wall had the prosecutor's other hand had not been as strong as the right.

"Heh, bad luck, Trite," the olive-skinned man smirked wryly, shaking his head. Surely that kid knew better than to attempt to pull the wool over these eyes? Eyes that were
forever lying themselves; pulling the wool over all others.

A broad thumb poked into the lip of the back of the defense attorney's blue trousers, and without giving him even an instant to register exactly what was intended, Godot
dragged the royal blue garment right down, over the lean, tensed curves of Phoenix's cyclist's butt, his milky white thighs, to his knees. Just as fortune hadn't been on the
side of the defense, Lady Luck had smiled on Diego, as in the one movement he had managed to take both trousers and boxers from the unwitting kid - and now he was stark naked
from the waist downwards. The man with the visor pushed both Wright's shirt and jacket up the small of his back, as not to let them hamper his work, as he took the briefest
of moments to survey the hot pink mounds that he had been so rigorously working over for the past... hell, he hadn't kept a note.

A big, bronzed hand moved across the warm rump, grasping one painful buttock, the flesh that flared white between strong fingers the sole indication to the poison-blinded gent of their true, red shade.

"Now... What is the Number One Rule of Interrogation to a defense attorney like you?" The deep voice murmured, his grip on the younger fella's ass unyielding, "Root out the
contradiction. Those little white lies that bring the world crashing down," He was in another time, now. A time when he wore red, where his dark almond eyes were no secret,
where his hair was mocha dark. A time when he was no longer Godot, "Finding that fiber crack in the stained glass window - shattering that holy-than-thou church glass to expose the whore
house its been hiding beneath," the big man moved his right knee to force Wright's bare butt up higher, readying for the terrible inevitable, "They say walls have ears, and their
pictures have eyes..." Godot came back, and breathed out an afterthought, "If only they could testify in court..."

Wright's cases main suspect (besides the guy's hapless client, of course) was a self-confessed art enthusiast - his entire alibi relying on that fact. However, this guy was a
fake. His ruse a farce. Godot knew that much just by looking at him. Could sniff out his deceit like a gundog finding game. The prosecutor had done his own digging, and
from eavesdropping and brief encounters with the smarmy bloke it was plain to see that if questioned about any lesser mainstream artist, past or modern, his alibi would be
blown out of the water.

His poor-man's attempt at delivering aid, just as he had no less than three years ago, to the busty, justice-seeking kitten that he had fallen so completely for.

Shaking his head once again from his reverie, Godot raised his right arm up high, before striking it down with all the finality of the Judge's gavel. The crisp, sharp smacks
of bare hand to bare skin far more biting, far more satisfying, than before.

[Said]

The blistering smack that landed on Wright's behind made the younger man cry out loudly. Fresh tears being brought to his eyes as the sharp sting exploded upon impact.

He had barely had time to recover from it when he felt something brush briefly against the bare skin of the small of his back, then tug at the back of his pants. Then, he felt the fabric of his blue pants and his white underwear be pulled down over his tender rump. He wanted to yell HOLD IT or even OBJECTION, but he could think of nothing to follow up such bold exclamations, except from words that would sound like little more than pitiful pleas.

As one of the prosecutor's strong hands gripped a painful buttcheek, the defense attorney couldn't help the rather plaintive whine that escaped his lips. Godot had begun to speak again, half in metaphors as usual, and Wright took the words to mean that the masked man had things to say about the case beyond things that could be said with his palm striking against Wright's unfortunate backside.

He sniffled, sounding somewhat younger than his years as he did, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see Godot's face. The man's expression was typically somewhat difficult to read, with nearly half of the face covered by the silver visor. But Wright could tell that he was caught up in what he was saying, the words having more meaning to the prosecutor himself than they could have to him right now. His mind struggled to focus on little else than the heat that had been delivered to the seat of his trousers, and would no doubt resume and increase as soon as Godot had said his piece.

He saw the man's arm raise up again and he opened his mouth to protest, when before the words came out, he felt the first swat to his exposed rump land. His yelped and squeezed his eyes shut, head facing forward again, whatever he had originally been about to say forgotten, replaced by a few more desperate pleas for the spanking to come to its end.

"S-Stop! I, I, don't understand why you're doing this!" He got out, voice jumping when the punishing hand came into contact with the tender skin, which was quickly growing redder.

[lilac]

"No?" The visor glowed hotly, "I just can't stand to see a man not go all-out when he has sworn to," Godot retorted, hand cracking mercilessly away, "To see a man lose belief in himself is to see his ultimate failure." In this business, sometimes all you could do was believe in yourself... And your client, and he had worried that Phoenix had lost sight of that, despite that buxom kitten's teachings...

"No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings." The prosecutor stated, his spanking hand flexing a tad.

After a moment, he gave pause, and looked down, greeted with the sight of the helplessly prone defense attorney; bare rumped over the lap of strong opposition, like a naughty brat who had been caught in the act by a teacher who took no shit.

Inside, Diego felt a sudden, icy pang of guilt, which showed itself only in a brief bite on the olive-tanned man's lower lip. His aim was to motivate the up and coming attorney; but what he had managed so far... Looking at it with almond brown rather than poison-fogged eyes, was to grind the younger man further into the dirt.

Godot's true self sighed in another reality, and Godot paused. His deep voice more amiable than before as he spoke with as much normality as he could muster, "Trite...even when you fall on your face, you are still moving forward. You never give up. Just as you believe in in them; your client believes in you..." the man let a small small creep across his lips, "You fell on your ass today, but... everyone in that courtroom expects you to stand tall tomorrow. Like you always have. Don't disappoint." He slapped his big palm across hot buns once more, sharply, "I'll be watching."