Mark slammed the door behind him and pointed at the couch. "Pants down. Now."
Jake froze in the middle of the living room, heart hammering. He knew that tone. Mark wasn't fucking around tonight. Without a word, Jake unbuckled his belt, shoved his jeans and briefs to his ankles, and bent over the arm of the couch, ass up and exposed.
Mark circled him slowly, boots heavy on the hardwood. "You mouth off at the bar again like that and I'll do this in front of everyone next time. You want that?"
"No, sir."
"Count."
The first slap landed hard and flat, palm cracking across Jake's right cheek. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and sharp.
"One."
Mark didn't pause. He laid into him with steady, heavy smacks, alternating cheeks, building heat fast. Jake's ass bounced under each blow, skin turning pink then red. By ten his voice was already rough.
"Eleven… twelve… fuck…"
Mark paused only to grab a fistful of Jake's hair and yank his head back. "You getting hard from this? Spread your legs wider."
Jake obeyed, thighs trembling. His cock hung heavy and half-hard between his legs, already leaking. Mark noticed and laughed once, low and mean.
"Look at that. Spanked like a little bitch and you're dripping on my floor."
He resumed, harder now, focusing on the sit spot where ass met thigh. Each slap echoed through the apartment. Jake's voice cracked on the numbers, but he kept counting. Twenty. Twenty-five. Thirty. His ass burned, skin tight and throbbing, and his cock was fully stiff, swinging with every impact.
Mark stopped and ran his rough palm over the burning flesh, squeezing hard enough to make Jake hiss. "Red enough yet? Or you need more?"
"More," Jake choked out. "Please."
Mark unbuckled his own belt, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. He doubled it and brought it down across both cheeks in one sharp crack. Jake shouted, body jerking forward.
"Keep counting or I start over."
The belt came down again and again, stripes of fire crossing the handprints. Jake's voice was ragged, but he managed every number. By the time Mark tossed the belt aside, Jake's ass was glowing dark red, hot to the touch, and his cock was aching, a string of precome dangling from the tip.
Mark dropped to his knees behind him, spread Jake's burning cheeks, and dragged his tongue straight over the hole. Jake moaned loud and filthy. Mark licked him open with rough, wet strokes, then shoved two fingers in without warning, pumping hard.
"Still tight," Mark growled. "Gonna fuck this hole after I finish reddening it."
He stood, unzipped, and pulled out his thick cock. He slapped it against Jake's sore ass a few times, then lined up and pushed in deep in one thrust. Jake's hole stretched around him, clenching. Mark grabbed Jake's hips and started pounding, each thrust slamming against the bruised, punished skin.
"Fuck, yeah," Jake gasped. "Harder. Use it."
Mark did. He fucked him rough and fast, one hand reaching around to jerk Jake's cock in time with his thrusts. The other hand kept delivering sharp slaps to the already raw ass, making Jake cry out with every strike.
Jake came first, shooting thick ropes across the couch cushion while Mark kept pounding through it. Mark followed seconds later, burying deep and flooding him, hips grinding against the burning cheeks.
They stayed locked like that for a long minute, breathing hard.
Mark finally pulled out slow, watching his come leak down Jake's red thighs. He gave one last gentle slap to the tender ass.
"Next time you mouth off, it's the paddle. Understand?"
Jake nodded, voice hoarse. "Yes, sir."
Mark hauled him up, turned him around, and kissed him hard, one hand still possessively gripping a burning cheek. "Good boy."
