Work Text:
Master’s Spanking Hand
‘Boy! Bring me my spanking hand!’
Will winced at the sharp command. No one knew how Master Alaric had lost both his hands; it had happened a long time ago, before most of the apprentices had been born. They all had their own private theories of course. Barty insisted they’d been bitten off by wild dogs, whereas Ranulf was convinced that Master had been a thief in his youth and had had them cut off in the name of His Majesty. Thomas, meanwhile, wondered if Master’s mother had been cursed by a witch when expecting and so he’d been born handless.
Will’s own theory was that Master had spanked them clean off while chastising one of his many past apprentices. Judging from the number of spankings Master still managed to dole out even with the obvious disadvantage, it could be supposed that Will’s theory might have had a grain of truth to it.
‘I’m waiting, boy,’ Master Alaric barked.
Will scrambled over to the crate of prosthetics Master kept in the workshop. It didn’t do to keep Master waiting, especially when he could just as easily change his mind about which attachment he required. The spanking hand was bad enough; the last thing Will wanted was to be told to bring the whipping hand. The leather strap on that horrible thing bit like a whole nest of adders. He rummaged in the crate, deliberately keeping the whipping hand out of sight lest it give Master any nasty ideas, and lifted out the dreadful spanking hand. A carved wooden hand stuffed inside a sack-cloth glove and padded with wool fibre to give the illusion of soft flesh, but Will knew from experience that it packed a mighty wallop when smacked against his bare bottom. Gingerly he carried it over to where his Master stood.
‘Careless cur,’ Master Alaric muttered, holding out his right arm on which his day-to-day prosthetic was fixed. ‘A whole morning’s work ruined by your daydreaming. I’m going to give you a right proper whacking, and don’t make those eyes at me, William. You know you earned it.’
‘Yes, Master,’ Will murmured sadly, carefully detaching the offered prosthetic and helping his Master buckle the spanking hand in its place. Somehow having to help with the attachment of the instrument of his impending doom made everything so much worse. At least when Da…Will swallowed on the lump that suddenly lodged in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe for sheer homesickness.
‘Come along now, lad,’ Master Alaric said, patting Will’s back with the awful heavy spanking hand. ‘Buck up and take it like a man, eh?’
Will blinked away the moisture that had blurred his vision at the fleeting thought of home, tipped up his chin and straightened his spine. Master led him over to the low wooden bench at the side of the room and took a seat, grunting a little as his knees creaked. He spread his knees and patted his lap with the spanking hand.
‘Drop your breeches and small clothes.’
Master’s tone had softened a little, the tone less waspish. Not gentle by any stretch of the imagination, but the hot anger had faded. Will shuffled over, unlacing his breeches before pushing his clothing to his knees. He pointedly ignored the whispers from the other apprentices, though he wished Master would bark at them to get back to work instead of watching. But he never did. Will suspected Master thought it was good for group discipline or something for everyone to see one of them punished. Extremely reluctantly, he bent over and settled himself in place over Master’s knee. Master tipped him further forward, swinging him off balance so his fingers brushed the dirt floor of the workshop while his feet hung uselessly in mid-air.
‘We’ve talked about your wool-gathering before, haven’t we William?’
Will nodded sadly, unable to stop giving a little squirm when Master rested the spanking hand on his bare bottom. ‘Yes, Master Alaric,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I know you are. Just as you were the last time. But words don’t mean anything without actions to back them up, do they child? You need to show me you’re sorry by changing your behaviour, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Master - argh!’
Will yelped as Master’s arm arced downward, landing the spanking hand smartly on his upturned bottom with a ‘whoomph’ rather than a ‘smack’. While the sound it made was unusual, the weight of the wooden core made it a very effective implement for chastising the naughty bottoms of errant apprentices. Heavy enough to deliver a sound wallop, but light enough to be swung rapidly and repeatedly, whoever had made it had been a master craftsman. The sack-cloth glove was tightly stuffed with wool, with enough give in the padding that it could have felt like real flesh. All it lacked was the warmth - though Master Alaric was doing an excellent job of generating heat in Will’s vulnerably presented bottom.
‘Ow! Master! Owowowowow!’
‘Stow your blathering, child. It won’t make any difference.’
That was Ranulf, Master’s eldest apprentice. At nearly sixteen, Ranulf thought himself quite the man now. Will lifted his tear-streaked face to glare furiously in Ranulf’s direction.
‘I’m not a child,’ he choked out, spitting the words through gritted teeth as Master Alaric continued raining thunderous smacks on his defenceless bottom.
‘You’re getting your arse smacked like one,’ Ranulf smirked.
‘Boy, unless you want to be next in line, I’d keep quiet. I’ve had you over my knee many a time, and I’m sure you’ll be there again no matter how grown you might think you are.’
Will had the satisfaction of watching Ranulf turn scarlet, though his enjoyment was somewhat hindered by the fire Master was lighting in his hindquarters.
‘Ow! P-please, Master. Ooh, ow! It hurrrtsssss!’
‘It’s meant to,’ Master Alaric replied, cheerfully whacking away. ‘Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t - oh, damn and blast this bloody useless harness.’
Will twisted round to see Master examining the buckles of the spanking hand with a frown. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Will looking.
‘The strap’s come undone. Tell me, William. Was it intentional, were you hoping to get away with a lighter punishment? Or were you day-dreaming again when you buckled the spanking hand in place?’
Will’s eyes widened. ‘No, sir, no Master Alaric. I swear, I didn’t do anything. At least, not on purpose.’
‘Hmmpf,’ Master Alartic snorted doubtfully. ‘Well, lad. What are you waiting for? Fix the strap before I change my mind and have you fetch the whipping hand instead.’
Will moved instantly, twisting his body further so he could reach Master’s outstretched arm. He fumbled with the buckle, tugging the straps as tight as he could manage. Master tilted his arm to and fro, examining the fastening closely, then gave Will a nod of approval.
‘Good. Well, what are you waiting for? Back into position and let’s finish this.’
Will whimpered as Master’s day-to-day left hand rested on his lower back, ensuring he couldn’t move from position. Whenever Master did that particular manoeuvre, Will knew it was going to be bad. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, willing Master to get it over with. His bottom already ached horribly from the thunderous smacks the spanking hand had already delivered, and he wasn’t looking forward to the remainder of his interrupted punishment.
The spanking hand landed with another ‘whoomph’, and Will yelled. It hurt so much more landing on sore skin after the brief break they’d had to fix the prosthetic back into place.
‘Owowowow ahoo. Master !’
‘Settle down, lad. You’re squealing like a stuck pig.’
‘But it huuuuurrrts, Master.’
‘I know it does. But your daydreaming cost us dearly and now you have to pay the price. Nearly done.’
Will kicked and yelled with each blow to his bottom. Then his cries reached new heights as Master moved his aim lower, covering Will’s thighs and undercurve with fresh sting. He wiggled so hard that he nearly succeeded in escaping Master’s lap, which caused the great man to grunt disapprovingly and insist William properly repositioned himself.
To the nine year old, it seemed to go on forever. Will was convinced he wouldn’t have any bottom left to smack. The hysterical part of him was convinced they’d have to fashion him a prosthetic bottom. He wondered if it would match Master’s spanking hand. A nicely padded bottom, densely packed with soft wool, was a tempting prospect right then. Far more comfortable to sit on than the smouldering crater that he imagined his own bottom to be.
Of course, it couldn’t go on forever - mainly because no matter how tightly the straps were buckled, there was always some give in the leather as it warmed up. The last thing Master Alaric wanted was chafed stumps caused by spanking his errant apprentice. Especially as it was highly likely, judging from some of the work the others had been churning out, that his spanking hand would be put to good use at least once more that afternoon.
Lying limply with tears streaming down his face, Will sobbed pitifully even though the spanking had stopped. Will felt Master’s legs shift beneath him, and he wobbled to his feet. Master patted his shoulder awkwardly with the spanking hand.
‘You’re alright, lad. Deep breaths.’
Then Master Alaric opened his arms wide, and Will flung himself against the old man’s chest. He cried a few more tears against Master’s tunic, then gulped and swallowed and hiccuped his way into greater composure. The spanking hand tousled his hair, clunking against his skull in a way that meant well but was less comforting than he suspected Master intended. Idly, Will wondered what a ‘comforting hand’ might look like.
Perhaps he’d talk to whoever designed Master’s other prosthetics.