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Discipline in the Workplace

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Day-Glo pink anal beads, where would they be...where would they be? Jensen drums his fingers nervously against his thighs as he scours the rows of shelves in the claustrophobically small and horrifically disorganized stockroom. The lime green beads are right there, wedged between a row of black boxes containing steel ass-hooks and a tower of Crisco tubs. The pink anal beads that the customer just has to have however...they are nowhere to be seen.

Does it really matter, Jensen huffs in frustration, what color the beads are? It's not as though the dude’s going to see much of them when they're shoved up his ass, or possibly someone else's ass.

With a triumphant ‘yes’ and a dorky little fist pump, he spots one solitary box of the elusive pink beads hiding on the bottom shelf, just at the toe of his boots. With typical Jensen luck, as he crouches down to grab it, his butt brushes against a stack of DVD's on the shelf behind him. “Crap, fuck it all,” Jensen groans as they crash to the ground with a heart-stuttering clatter. Only two hours into his first shift working at Wild Nights Erotic Emporium and he's already trashed the place.

And fuck, Jensen really needs this job. He absolutely cannot afford to get fired. Not with his bastard of a landlord hiking up the rent. Again. Jensen’s already freezing off his nuts every day so he doesn't have to pay a huge heating bill, and he's forgotten what real food tastes like; he swears when he finally graduates and finds a full time job he's never eating ramen again. Seriously, if he gets fired the only thing Jensen has left to cut back on is...well, nothing. He could always sell a kidney he supposes.

It was a friend of a friend, who suggested he apply for a job at Wild Nights Erotic Emporium. He'd pointed Jensen in the right direction, told him to ask for Mr. Padalecki, and warned him not to be judgmental, a prude, or a dork. Jensen wasn't either of the first two, but suppressing his inner dork was a tough ask.

He had been undeniably taken aback by his first glimpse of the store. Jensen hadn't really known what to expect. Sex shops were not in his area of expertise. In fact, he’d never set foot inside of one before. Not that Jensen doesn't like sex, he does, very much; he's a college student after all and sex is one of the few things he can do for fun that's free. And if he does say so himself, he’s not bad looking; there’s plenty of guys and girls out there happy to jump into bed with him. It’s just...well honestly...he's a little vanilla. He still blushes when he buys lube and condoms, and the closest he’s ever come to buying a sex toy was stealing a cucumber from his mother’s fridge. The resultant squelchy disaster not something he ever wants to repeat. 

When he’d turned up for his interview at Wild Nights Erotic Emporium, the place wasn’t at all what he expected. It didn't have a broken flashing sign in the window advertising live sex shows, it wasn't dingy, or tacky, or the slightest bit seedy. It didn't smell of stale spunk or have suspicious stains dried into a seventies style carpet. In fact, with its pale wooden floors, shining glass cabinets and faintly perfumed aroma, it was incredibly classy...for a sex shop. Or rather an upscale adult toy store which is how Mr. Padalecki likes to describe it.

And Mr. Padalecki, the manager of said toy store, was rather an unexpected surprise too. Jensen had been prepared for him to be a bit of a creep, or maybe a pot-bellied greasy Mafiosi type—his inner dork had quite a vivid imagination and watched far too much bad television—but, he hadn't been prepared for him to be tall, very tall, sculpted from long lean muscle and honey tan skin, and have floppy hair and hazel eyes that lit up when he smiled.

It’s possible that Jensen had developed a little bit of a crush at first sight of the man. Or more honestly, a massive crush which immediately reduced him to a drooling moron. Somehow, miraculously, he'd managed to stutter and stumble his way through the interview. Even more miraculously, despite his inability to string sentences together, and the way he’d blushed at every mention of sex, Mr. Padalecki had offered him the job; evenings and weekends, a shockingly good hourly rate of pay, with the promise of a healthy monthly bonus if he performed well. It's a great opportunity. An absolute lifesaver for Jensen. If he manages not to get himself fired on his first shift.

Jensen takes a deep calming breath and quickly stacks the tower of DVD's back up, shoving a couple with cracked cases to the bottom of the pile. Then he grabs the box of pink anal beads, clutches them to his chest like he's found the Holy Grail and dashes back out front, hoping that his customer is still there. Thankfully he is, and he's not even pissed about having to wait an eternity.

"Thanks, sweetheart, you're a lifesaver," the guy says, looking up from the bondage equipment he's browsing through and flashing Jensen a toothy grin.

"No problem at all, sir.” Jensen smiles politely, wondering silently how on earth pink anal beads could be a matter of life and death. He's saved from pondering the matter for too long when Mr. Padalecki's deep voice rises above the easy-listening music playing softly in the background. "Jensen, there you are. Could you come and help me over here for a minute please?"

Mr. Padalecki is standing at the other side of the store. Dressed as casually as the rest of the staff in blue jeans and a black t-shirt with the store’s logo printed across the chest no-one should know he's the manager, but there's something about him, a natural authority in his stance, that shouts out loud and clear who's in charge.

Wiping his sweaty palms on the ass of his jeans, Jensen hurries across the store to where Mr. Padalecki is chatting to a couple of customers; a man that looks only a year or two older than Jensen and a women closer to Mr. Padalecki's age, maybe around thirtyish. Jensen’s eyes widen when he catches his first real look at her; she cuts a startling figure. The body hugging black velvet dress she's wearing is cinched in at the waist with a fierce studded belt that emphasizes the generous curve of her breasts. Her auburn hair is piled into an intricate bun and she's wearing a pair of shining red leather boots that climb all the way up to her thighs and have lethal looking spiked heels that add at least four inches onto her already statuesque frame. She stands only an inch or two shorter than his boss, and Mr. Padalecki has to be at least six four. She is undeniably beautiful, but also incredibly intimidating. Way way out of Jensen’s league. Kind of like Mr. Padalecki.

"Yes, sir?" Jensen swallows nervously, confused as to why Mr. Padalecki would need his help. He's the expert here after all. The only thing Jensen knows for sure is that he knows absolutely nothing. And seeing as how Mr. Padalecki is taller and way stronger than Jensen, it’s not even like he could do the physical heavy-lifting stuff any easier.

Jared brushes a loose strand of floppy hair away from his face and smiles down at Jensen. Jensen fights not to blush like a schoolgirl. "Now, Jensen, I told you to call me Jared, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir, sorry...Jared." Jensen wants to face palm as he corrects himself.

Jared laughs, not unkindly, along with the woman at his side. The other man stands quietly, just a hint of a smile on his lips. "I was hoping you could help me with a small demonstration."

"Of course, Mr. Padalecki," Jensen says, jumping in eagerly before Jared has barely finished speaking.

Mr. Padalecki looks at him curiously, but nods after just a second's hesitation. “Okay then, if you'll all just come with me."

Jensen follows close on his boss's heels with Mrs. Huffman and her friend right behind him. Jared only walks as far as a curtained off area at the side of the store. Jensen hadn't given much thought to what lay behind the dramatic silk scarlet curtain; it'd been difficult enough wrapping his mind around the multitude of sex toys and equipment that were in full view without worrying about what was hidden away.

Drawing back the curtain with a disappointing lack of flourish, Jared reveals a piece of furniture which kind of resembles the vaulting horse that Jensen remembers with little fondness from his high-school gym classes. This one is a distinctly kinkier version with its highly glossed brown leather top and the sturdy straps dangling loosely from its sides. The wall behind the horse holds a dizzying display of toys and accessories, but rather that being safely encased in plastic they are readily available for close inspection and handling. Or possibly use.

Jensen’s heart flutters wildly against his ribcage, suddenly nervous at what the demonstration might involve. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions before he agreed to help. And at his job interview too. Mr. Padalecki turns toward Jensen, reaches out, places his hand flat on Jensen’s back, right in the middle of his shoulder blades, his palm reassuringly warm, his fingers long and strong. Gently, he urges Jensen towards the horse. Jensen’s feet shuffle forward reluctantly, his stomach lurches anxiously.

"Okay, Jensen," Mr. Padalecki murmurs from behind him; lips practically brushing the back of Jensen’s ear as he speaks quietly enough to ensure that only Jensen can hear him. "Don't be nervous; you're fine. I just need to give our customers a small demonstration. It's all part of the job. If it's too much, if you panic or you can't handle it, simply tell me to stop and I'll find someone else to do this, okay? Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Jensen says, his voice little more than a choked whisper as he tries to speak around the lump of nerves lodged in his throat. He understands. This is a test. It has to be. If he can't cope with whatever this is, then Mr. Padalecki will find someone else that can. Jensen knew this job was too good to be true.

"Mrs. Huffman," Jared's deep voice rises as he turns back and addresses the customers behind them again. "If you and your husband would like to stand at the side here so you can see better, I'll talk you through the whole process. Now, as I explained earlier there are many ways to approach this and with a little practice and experimentation you'll soon find out what works best for you both."

Jensen struggles to make sense of Mr. Padalecki's words; his concentration already split between staying in control of his suddenly rapid breathing, trying to figure out what's going on, and not looking too closely at the whips, clamps, restraints and gags arranged in neat rows along the wall.

"Now, I understand that you want to explore spanking, but it's best to clarify; this is purely erotic spanking and not disciplinary?"

"Well," Mrs. Huffman replies, her voice dripping down Jensen’s spine like melting ice, almost distracting him from the alarming realization that he's about to participate in a spanking demonstration. "I'm certainly not ruling out using corporal punishment as a punishment eventually, but I'd like our first few forays into spanking to bring my husband as much pleasure as pain."

"Good, good," Jared enthuses, clapping his hands together, his dinner-plate sized hands, nearly making Jensen jump out of his skin. "Let's get started then shall we? Now, part of the turn-on for many people isn't the spanking itself but the preparation for it. You want your sub, or in this case your husband, to be in the right head-space. Simply knowing that they're about to receive a spanking can be enough to excite many people, but sometimes ordering someone to get themselves ready for their spanking can have a titillating effect. You could make your partner wash and prep himself thoroughly, possibly give himself an enema or shave, you could make him wear specific clothes; maybe panties or a harness... something you both like. Instructing him to be ready and waiting for you at a specified time will have him thoroughly aroused and on edge before you even lay a finger on him."

Panties, Jensen can't hide the shiver that ripples through him at the thought of that. It's wrong and he knows it, but he's always loved those little lacy panties that girls wear. Except, he wants... god, he's so messed up, he wants to be the one wearing them. Wants to shave himself smooth and feel the delicate lace rubbing against his dick, cradling his balls. Wants to feel his panties growing damp like a girl's as he teases himself through the lace. He's never done it of course. He's jerked off more than once thinking about it, but has never worked up the courage to actually go into a store and buy a pair of pretty panties for himself, which considering he's working in an honest-to god sex-shop now, seems a little ironic.

"Now,” Jared continues, his voice perfectly level, as though discussing how to spank someone's ass is a perfectly every-day topic of conversation. Then again for him it possibly is. “Positions. Obviously there's over the knee; that's a classic and with good reason. It gives you perfect control; you can hold your partner's wrists behind his back with one hand leaving the other free to administer the spanking, additionally if you wish, the position allows him to have some friction against his cock which, with a vigorous spanking, can be enough to induce orgasm in a particularly receptive sub."

Jensen closes his eyes and tries to force oxygen into his lungs as Jared continues with his lecture.

"There are other positions of course. Jensen, if you wouldn't mind helping me demonstrate?"

Eyes snapping open at the sound of his name, Jensen glances back over his shoulder to see Mr. Padalecki looking straight at him, his wide lips quirked up in a smile but a question—or maybe it’s a challenge—in the tilt of his head. Jensen can't quite find it in himself to respond with words but nods tersely instead.

"If you could just bend over, Jensen? That's it. Legs straight and further apart…just a bit further...that's it. Now place your hands on your knees, yes like that…and arch your back a little more for me. Excellent." Jared pushes Jensen into the exact position he wants as though he's nothing more than a poseable mannequin. "As you can see this position shows off your partner’s backside wonderfully. See how because he’s able to arch his back Jensen’s ass is presented perfectly? Now, if Jensen grabs his ankles…Jensen?”

It takes a moment for Jensen to realize that Jared is talking to him again rather than about him. “Jensen?” The second time Mr. Padalecki repeats his name, it’s with enough of a bite to snap Jensen into action; bending further over he grabs his ankles and ducks his head down to hide the embarrassed flush crawling up his face.

“Now, this position can be trickier. It's possible that it might affect your partner's breathing, so you must be careful. And also remember that if you smack too forcefully, balance can be an issue as well. That being said, this stance does make a pretty picture and with their backside so vulnerable and taut it can be an intense experience for the sub.”

As Mr. Padalecki talks, his hand comes down to rest on Jensen’s upturned butt, his thumb massaging firm circles through the denim. Jensen isn’t sure if it’s meant to be comforting, if Jared is even aware he’s doing it. He doesn’t let up for several minutes, keeping Jensen head down, ass up as he runs through several other positions, cataloguing the pros and cons of each one. By the time he’s finished talking, Jensen feels dizzy, a little breathless and, despite the humiliation of the position he’s in, also disconcertingly turned on; his dick twitching in interest, almost half hard in his boxers.

“So now that we’ve covered preparation and position, let’s move on to the actual spanking. Because Jensen is so inexperienced, I’m going to have him lean over the spanking bench here.” Jared taps Jensen's hip, signaling him to stand up. Jensen straightens immediately, too quickly, sways as the blood rushes back to his head. Jared's there before he stumbles, a steadying arm around Jensen’s waist to support him.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks, concern evident in the tiny furrow between his eyes, and by the way his fingers curl into Jensen's waist, pressing firm imprints into Jensen's skin through his t-shirt

“Fine,” Jensen replies, blinking slowly. “I’m fine. Just…just a little dizzy.”

“Are you okay to continue?”

Yes, Jensen means to say, absolutely. But his head is buzzing with static, the room around him blurry, his vision wavering.

Jared's frown deepens, worry flashing in his eyes. "It's not a trick question, Jensen. Is this okay? Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath that clears his head enough to focus—for a minute at least—Jensen nods. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine now. Really, sir.”

Jensen feels his ears pink up when the sir slips through his lips again, but it doesn’t seem right to call his boss by his first name. Not when he’s about to tan Jensen’s hide.

“Good boy,” Jared smiles at him, warm and fond, as though Jensen has done something especially clever. “Come and lean over here. That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it? The bench is nice and cushioned and just the right height to support you.”

Jared gives the top of the bench a friendly pat as though petting an actual horse and Jensen stumbles forward, following his instructions unquestioningly. The bench isn’t as high as a normal vaulting horse, nor as wide. When Jared encourages him to bend over it, Jensen discovers that it is actually nice to have the cushioned support below him rather than having to balance on his own. His heels lift off the ground and there’s a slight stretch up through his calves as Jared positions him further over the bench than Jensen would naturally have leaned.

“Obviously, most people don’t have the benefit of a spanking bench in their own home,” Jared says, nudging Jensen’s legs slightly further apart. “But a chair or a desk can easily be used instead. If you want to exert your dominance further, or don't think your partner can stay in place on his own, you can of course use cuffs or other bondage equipment. Jensen, can you grab on to the straps at the side there?”

Jensen locates the straps at either side of him and twists them around his hands. It feels more natural holding on to something than having his arms dangling limply anyway.

“Perfect,” Jared says from above him and Jensen ignores the jolt his dick gives at the praise.

“Would you normally allow your sub to wear clothes while receiving his spanking?” Mrs. Huffman asks.

Jared hums thoughtfully before he replies. “Every situation, every scene, every spanking is different. There are no hard and fast rules. While having a partner fully clothed at the start of a spanking isn’t something I routinely do, it can add some extra spice to the scene; prolong the build-up that little bit more.”

Jensen's stomach squirms, goosebumps breaking out across his skin as Jared brushes a line down his spine while he talks. His fingers don't deviate from their path until they reach the dip of Jensen’s ass where he seems content to leave them. His firm touch does nothing to discourage Jensen's dick from chubbing up inside the increasingly tight confines of his jeans.

“Now, I presume that you and your husband have a safe-word?”

“We do.” Mrs. Huffman confirms.

“That’s good. It’s vital to always play safely, no matter how well you know your partner. Jensen? Remember if you want to stop at any time, just say stop."

Jensen gulps and nods, too nervous now to even attempt speech. Jared must understand because instead of demanding a reply he softly pets Jensen’s back.

“Okay, no matter what implement you plan on using, it’s always best to warm your partner’s butt up with your hand first. This is an important part of the spanking. If done properly it prepares your partner’s ass for the harder blows later and should mean he’ll be able to endure a longer and harder spanking. It also continues the slow build-up of arousal for both of you.”

Despite knowing it’s coming, the first smack across his butt cheek is a shock. It’s not particularly sore, not sore at all actually; Jared obviously isn’t aiming to hurt him. But it does suddenly make the whole situation very real. Jensen is bent over in the middle of a store, where he works, getting his ass spanked by his boss, in full view of anyone who cares to watch. Jensen’s face which was flushed before now feels like it’s on fire and he’s grateful that the position he’s in means that his face is more or less hidden from view.

The first slap is followed quickly by a second on the other cheek, then a third and a fourth. The fifth is the hardest yet, then Jared stops and caresses first one ass-cheek and then the other before starting up again.

“You can spank in a pattern if you like. It's a good idea especially during the warm-up. Four light spanks and a harsher fifth is a steady rhythm,” Jared explains as he repeats the pattern twice more before stopping.

“Jensen, I want you to unfasten your jeans and pull them down as far as you can. Don’t move from the position you’re in.”

Jensen freezes for a full second; not sure if he can follow Jared’s instructions. If he wants to.

“Do you need to quit, Jensen?”

No, no, he needs this job. He can do this. It takes effort to let go of the straps wound around his hands and even more effort to unfasten his jeans without moving his position too much. When he struggles to successfully carry out the awkward maneuver, Jared steadies him and helps unbutton his flies.

“Making your partner remove his own clothes can add to the whole experience for them. Many spankees get off a lot harder with the added humiliation of having to pull down their own pants and present their ass for spanking.”

With his legs spread apart and the precarious position he’s in, it’s impossible for Jensen to push his jeans down very far; he barely uncovers his ass. Jared still appears to be pleased.

“That’s fine, Jensen. You can relax now. Grab your straps again.”

‘Relax’ Jensen nearly giggles at that. He can’t recall ever feeling less relaxed in his life. He stiffens as Jared tugs at his jeans, working them down until the waistband is tight around the top of his thighs. With only a thin layer of cotton now in-between his ass and Jared’s hand, Jared’s hands suddenly seem a whole lot bigger, the bulging muscles in his arms a lot more worrying.

“One other advantage to having your partner prepare himself beforehand is that it ensures there are no awkward moments when his underwear is revealed,” Jared says, humor bubbling under the words. Behind him Jensen can hear several chuckles, and if he thought his face was heated before, well now it's thermo-nuclear. "While Jensen's 'Cookie Monster' boxers are cute, they aren't exactly conducive to setting the tone for an erotic spanking." Jared gently squeezes Jensen's butt through his unfortunate choice of boxer-shorts as he speaks. Jensen groans and buries his face against his shoulder.

"Usually I'd continue to ease Jensen through the warm-up by spanking him through his underwear for a few minutes, but frankly the Cookie Monster is putting me off my stride, so I'm just going to move on." With that, Jared proceeds to peel down the waistband of Jensen's boxers, wriggling them down until the elastic sits under the cheeks of Jensen’s ass, around the top of his thighs. His dick, still obstinately enjoying itself, trapped between his stomach and the leather cushioning of the bench.

Despite expecting it, or maybe because he's expecting it, Jensen can't help but flinch at the first touch of Jared's fingers against the bare skin of his ass. It's not even a harsh touch. Jared just traces lazy patterns across Jensen's cheeks until Jensen is, if not quite relaxed, at least no longer strung tighter than a piano string.

The first slap against his exposed ass is a shock. A totally different sensation from before. Sharp. Insistent. Jensen's dick twitches in appreciation, his balls throb. The fierce blush in his face grows, extends down his throat, spreads across his chest. Another slap comes and another. Jared repeats his pattern from earlier; four lighter spanks and one hard. Jensen tenses in expectation of that biting fifth slap, grunting as Jared's hand catches both cheeks firmly. He can imagine the way his ass must look; plump flesh wobbling, fair freckled skin blooming cherry-red as Jared's palm slams against it. The sound of the smack is obscenely loud in Jensen's ears, and undoubtedly echoes throughout the store. Probably drawing more customers towards the free show.

"Once your husband's warmed up, you can move on to the proper spanking," Jared says, repeating the pattern one more time. Every slap sending more blood to Jensen's face and his dick.

And then the pattern changes, the slaps coming harsher and quicker, leaving no time to tense or prepare. Jensen forgets where he is, almost forgets who he is. He’s incapable of thinking about anything other than Jared's hand heating his ass. There's pain, but it's the most exquisite pain that Jensen's ever felt. Pain edged with pleasure that melts through every neve in his body, leaves him floating above himself.

It takes a moment for Jensen to realize the blows have stopped, that all he can feel is the steady weight of Jared's palm resting on his lower back. Then he hears his voice, muffled, distant.

"How are you doing, Jensen? Is this okay?"

"Yes, sir," the words come naturally, sound normal even though his mouth feels numb.

"Mrs. Huffman would like some instruction in how to use a paddle so I'm going to give her a brief demonstration, is that okay?"

Jensen licks his lips, tries to work some moisture back into his mouth. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy, you’re doing great," Jared says, his voice as comforting as the pressure of his hand on Jensen's back. "We'll be finished real soon, just another few minutes."

Jensen hums softly, compliant and passive. Happily agreeing to whatever Jared says. He only grumbles a little in complaint when Jared lifts his hand away, unexpectedly missing the contact.

"This paddle...” Jensen hears the words, even if they don't make much sense to him, fading in and out through the fog in his head. "...leather, larger, covers a bigger area, not such an intense impact."

The lack of contact, of sensation starts to unsettle Jensen. He grows increasingly conscious of his dick pulsing hard and needy between his belly and the bench, and of the fiery thrum of heat radiating across his ass. He should want to end this whole humiliating debacle right now, should want to walk out and never come back, but all he wants is to feel Jared's touch again. To be the focus of his undivided attention.

"...stingy, or a deeper thud. It's personal preference really, trial and error." Jared's voice cuts through Jensen's impatient thoughts again, his indulgent chuckle sending a tremor of content rippling through him. "It looks like Jensen is growing impatient, wriggling his butt like a happy puppy there. Well, I did tell you to watch for your partner's body language as well his verbal cues, and I'd say that Jensen is making his feelings perfectly clear."

Jared's fingers skim across the back of Jensen’s thigh, and Jensen exhales, releasing an expectant breath he didn't know he was holding.

The first strike of leather against skin is loud. Seems to explode in the air. A thwack that Jensen hears before he feels. A bright sting that blossoms then fades with a shocky moan, and a tug of excitement in Jensen's gut.

Jared doesn't use the paddle in a pattern, not that Jensen can make out, and within a few slaps, he stops trying to guess when the blows are coming or how hard, finds himself relaxing and sinking into just feeling. He rocks over the spanking bench with each blow, his dick, steel hard, caught between the supple leather and his soft belly. Pleasure/pain crackles across his skin, rolls up his spine, oozes down his legs. Each smack of the paddle delivers a searing bite to his ass. A pulse of pleasure to his dick. Sweat beads on his top lip, clings to his nape, rolls down his back, his cotton t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. His fingers twist tighter in the straps, holding on, holding himself back. Trying to. But each stinging blow teases a needy moan from his lips, a demanding tilt of his hips up towards the paddle. Nudges him closer to an orgasm. His dick, untouched, desperate, and shameless.

"Four more, Jensen. Just four more, but they'll be intense. You're doing real good." Jared encourages, his lips suddenly close to Jensen's ear, as though he's bending over him. There are more words, but further away and un-important to Jensen. All he can think is four more. Only four more. He pushes his ass back, just a fraction, cants it upwards as much as he can, and when the paddle slaps against him, the force of the blow drives him forward, the added friction against his dick, the harsher burst of heat in his ass, propelling him towards his release. The next blow is harder still; real undiluted pain, hot and deep, blooms across Jensen's ass, burrows below his skin, crawls up his back. The third slap catches him below his ass and a breathy grunt falls from Jensen's mouth, a warning fire sparking in his belly.

Jared doesn't hesitate, doesn't hold back, the last spank a heavy thwack that lands with precision across the center of both burning cheeks. Bright white light flares behind Jensen's clenched eyes. An explosion of blissful, all-consuming agony floods through every cell in his body. Pain and pleasure combine in an orgasm that crashes into Jensen like another blow. Leaves him reeling, breathless and floating on a wash of ecstasy.

But seconds, minutes later, when his brain comes back on line, when the muggy cloud of arousal in his head clears, the elation drops away to confusion, and then gut churning humiliation.

He’s sticky, sore and frozen with mortification. He just came. In front of a store full of people. From a spanking. Without even a finger brushing against his dick.

Jensen hears himself panting, his breathing labored and erratic as he imagines what he looks like, imagines how many people are looking at him right now. How many people know what he just did. What a freak he is. Jared's voice cuts through the budding panic in his head. "Well, I hope that demonstration was some help to you. Sophia will help you complete your purchases. And I hope your husband is as good for you as Jensen was for us, Mrs. Huffman."

"That was wonderful, thank you Mr. Padalecki. I have to say I'm very impressed with your expertise and your staff. I'm sure we'll be back soon. There are a few more toys I'm interested in trying; nipple clamps maybe, or a cock-cage, maybe even a humbler. Perhaps we can arrange for you and your boy to help us explore the options.”

Jensen wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He's bent over a spanking bench, his ass naked and presumably bright red, come coating his belly, and by the feel of it gluing him to the leather rest beneath him, and nobody seems to care. Even his dick doesn't care, trying to twitch back to life at the thought of a cock cage trapping it soft and useless inside lace panties. Fuck, Jensen is a freak!

"Okay, Jensen let’s get you taken care of." Jensen startles at the sound of Jared's voice close to the shell of his ear again. His fingers feathering across the throbbing skin of Jensen’s ass. "Just stay right there for a second, okay? The curtains are drawn so no-one can see you now. You did so good, Jensen. You were great. Surprising, but great."

Jensen keeps his head down, his face hidden. Jared’s voice, a melodic murmur in the background, gradually unravelling the tension knotted in his belly. "That's fine thanks, Sophie. Okay, Jensen I’m just going to clean you up now. This might sting a little."

A damp cloth gently presses against Jensen's ass cheeks; the soft material wonderfully cooling against his hot skin. Jared holds a succession of cold cloths against his skin until the immediate heat fades, leaving a duller burn deep in Jensen’s flesh. Next, with a delicate touch Jensen didn’t think him capable of, Jared massages a minty-scented cold cream across Jensen’s throbbing cheeks and down the tops of his thighs.

By the time he's done, Jensen's racing pulse has calmed back down to something nearing normal. But he's just as embarrassed. Especially after Jared helps him to his feet, a supportive hand below his elbow, and passes him another damp cloth. "For you to clean yourself up." He has to say when Jensen stands motionless, a look of dumb confusion on his face.

Unable to meet Jared's eyes, Jensen snatches the cloth and gives his belly and his—still half hard—dick a perfunctory clean, before hauling his underwear and jeans back up, wincing as the material scrapes against sensitive skin.

"Oh, Jensen," Jared says, fingers catching under his chin nudging his head up. "Don't be embarrassed. That was incredible. You were incredible. You've never done anything like that before?"

Jensen shakes his head wordlessly; looks into his boss’s eyes, mesmerized by multicoloured ripples of hazel.

Jared smiles, beautiful dimples appearing in his cheeks that make him look almost boyish. "Well, trust me, you were amazing. Most people wouldn't relax into it like that. I've never seen anyone so naturally responsive before. So instinctually submissive."

Jensen gnaws on his bottom lip, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, a fresh flush of heat exploding across his face. He didn't react like most people. Most people would have held it together, been detached, professional, remembered they were working, doing nothing more than a job. Most people wouldn't have shoved their ass back in their boss’s faces demanding more.

"Hey, now,” Jared says sternly, as though Jensen had spoken out loud, his thumb brushing across Jensen’s abused bottom lip. "None of that. You are amazing. And you did everything I asked you to, okay? You did everything you were told. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"I was?" Jensen asks, uncertainty obvious in the needy hitch of his voice.

"Absolutely perfect." Jared reiterates. "Now I'm gonna take you back to my office, and we're gonna have a hot drink and talk for a while. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sir," Jensen nods, happy to follow instructions again; needing guidance more than he needs choices or questions right now.

"You can call me Jared, sweetheart," Mr. Padalecki says, leading Jensen out of the curtained booth, and through a discreet door marked ‘staff only’.

"Yes, sir." Jensen agrees, leaning into the warmth of Jared's body, wanting for some strange reason to climb onto his lap and rub against him like an affectionate house cat.

Jared chuckles fondly. "Oh, Jensen, you're gonna be trouble, I can just tell."