Draco Figged And Caned
In this fanfic by Liyla, Draco Malfoy gets a well-deserved caning, with added fig:
“Only a mudblood? ONLY A MUDBLOOD! You think this is about some foolish, moral sentiment, boy?” He spat the word “boy,” as if to suggest that Draco deserved no human name right now. “Malfoys are not hooligans! If you want to rape somebody, you do not just drag her into an alley and start tearing at her like some wild animal! Do you realize how many people I had to obliviate to cover this up? You acted like a common yob, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT! Now,” he pointed with the cane, “get over the desk!”
Fighting tears, Draco removed his robe and laid it carefully over the back of a chair. He hesitated, though, as he reached for his belt. Last time they had done this, his father had him remove his trousers and underwear. Last time they had done this, though, Draco had been nine years old.
He looked up for guidance, and his father nodded slowly. Trying to preserve as much dignity as possibly, while still cooperating completely, he loosened his belt and unzipped his fly, but bent over the desk before pushing his garments around his ankles and flipping up the back of his shirt.
Lucius was actually impressed. It was difficult to remain composed while preparing to be tortured. And he was planning on torturing the boy. This was a rare occurance, but he had always loved the power of it. Here, his son, afraid that non-compliance would provoke a worse punishment, would do anything he asked.
“Spread your legs, boy, so I can get the insides of your thighs.” Not bad. He didn’t even hesitate. Probably thought he deserved anything he got. This would be delicious. With a crime of this magnitude to punish, he could take full advantage of the power. Somewhere in the back of Lucius’s mind, a neuron fired. Something his father had done to him once during a similar punishment…it had been absolute agony…put something in him…what was it? Ahhh, yes. He called for a house-elf, who apparated into the room immediately.
“May I help you, Master Malfoy?” His eyes darted only briefly towards Draco, spread over the desk and shivering slightly.
His voice was calm now, smooth and cruel. “Yes. Go get a finger of fresh ginger, the largest you can find, and peel it for me.”
The elf’s face twitched as he tried not to smirk. He answered, “right away master,” as he dissappeared, returning only moments later with the ginger. It was, indeed, fresh. The smell of it filled the room quickly as Lucius flipped open a small pocket knife and began carving an indentation toward one end.
Draco had not been sure, at first, what the spice might be for, but it seemed obvious now. He took a breath and tried to calm himself as he looked at it. It did not look painfully large, but he guessed that the size was not what he had to worry about.
Satisfied with the plug, Lucius held it out to his son. “You seem to have figured out what to do with this. Go ahead.”
“Yes, Father.” He inserted it gently, being careful not to break it, and bent back over the desk. What a sight he must have made, bent over, legs spread, and this thing hanging out the back of him. Now he couldn’t even figure out why his father had made him do that. It didn’t even hurt.
“Count, them boy.” *ssssssssssswishCRACK* Right across the tops of his thighs. Draco was trying to take this as well as he could. Lucius was curious how long he could hold out before he broke this elegant demeaner he was obviously trying to cultivate.
“O-one.”
The ginger was was clearly taking affect by the fifth stroke. Draco had started writhing and whimpering more than the caning itself warrented. It took a little over two dozen blows before he cracked. Without warning, he threw himself off the desk, pulled out the ginger and lay rolling on the floor, howling and pleading for mercy. Lucius stood over him quietly and waited for him to calm down…