Page 4 of Thwack!

“There’s a good boy.” Dr. Davies curled his fingers around Cooper’s hips and started fucking him, so smooth and firm that Cooper wondered if they taught anal sex in therapy school.

“Thank you,” he said again as Dr. Davies picked up the pace. And then he couldn’t stop saying thank you, especially once Dr. Davies put a slick gloved hand on Cooper’s cock and jerked him to a thundering orgasm.

Dr. Davies must have come too. Or maybe he just figured his job was done once he’d made Cooper come, because he withdrew from Cooper’s ass and cleaned up, swabbing Cooper’s asshole with an alcohol wipe and then tossing the wipe and condom and gloves into a medical waste container.

Cooper rotated so he was sitting on the shortened exam table with his legs hanging over the edge, his soft cock between his thighs and his ass on fire, not sure what to do next.

“You may get dressed,” Dr. Davies said as he returned to his spot behind the desk. He waited for Cooper to reassemble himself and sit on the couch where he’d been half an hour ago, now as a completely different person. It wasn’t just his cock that was soft. He felt soft all over. Like a child but in a good way, as if he could start his life from here and take it in a different direction this time.

Dr. Davies glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid our time is up for today. You’ll need regular sessions to continue making progress. Let’s say three a week. Stop at reception on your way out to schedule them. Good work today, Cooper. I’m proud of you.”

Cooper stopped at reception on his way out.

~~The End~~

Need more spanking as a form of therapy? Check out Worked, where a lazy, driftless slacker gets taught how to apply himself in life by a therapeutic cowboy.

Or, if you enjoyed the caretaker-as-disciplinarian aspect, you might like Under His Care, in which a manny un-spoils a spoiled rich kid

Who’s the Boss?

Author’s Note: Thanks to Heini OK on Facebook for the inspiration for this story

Ryan took a long draw from his boba tea as his fellow administrative assistants rose reluctantly to their feet.

“Come on, Ryan,” Maggie said with a note of exasperation in her voice. “If we don’t get going, we’re going to be late, and the rest of us aren’t spoiled the way you are.”

“I don’t know how he gets away with half the shit he does,” Allie said as she dropped her empty cup in the trash. “Working for one of the top execs in the company and half the time his desk is still empty when I take the mail up at nine-thirty.”

“It’s because he sucks Prescott’s dick,” Lucas said. “Bet on it.”

“Actually,” Ryan said in a lazy drawl, “he sucks mine.”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, that’s how it works. Come on, Ryan. Stop fucking around.”

Ryan stood with unhurried movements, then hooked his cup into the trash using a perfect layup shot. Drops of the remaining liquid flew up out of the cup and sprinkled the floor surrounding the basket.

“You’d think a guy like Prescott would want an admin with more class,” Maggie said.

Allie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the counter and leaned down to swipe at the mess.

“Don’t do that for him.” Maggie snatched the napkin from Allie and handed it to him. “We’re not Prescott. Whatever you’ve got over him that makes him treat you like you’re untouchable, it doesn’t extend to us. Clean up your own damn mess.”

Ryan swiped at the liquid on the floor, then deposited the napkin neatly into the trash. “You’re such a mother hen, Mags. Don’t worry about me and James.”

“James,” Lucas echoed. “He calls the CFO James. The one time I had to talk to Prescott I nearly pissed my pants. What do you have on him, Ryan?”

“I happen to be a very good admin. I give the man what he needs, and he takes care of me in return. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” his friends chorused.

Ryan laughed. He really did give James Prescott II what he needed, but exactly what James Prescott II needed was his and James’s little secret.

Despite all the jibes, he was only a few minutes late getting back to the office where he found James in an absolute uproar, practically foaming at the mouth over a contract he couldn’t locate.

“Relax,” Ryan told him, striding into the lion’s den without fear. A riled-up James Prescott II was a sight to behold. His green eyes were like emerald lasers, and the short strands of his dark hair seemed to prickle with electricity. His suit was as expensive and immaculate as ever, but the knot of his tie was askew. Ryan straightened it for him. There. Now he was perfect again.

“I know exactly where the contract is,” Ryan told him. “Don’t I always? Sit down, drink some water, and I’ll bring it to you. What’s the big deal anyway?”