(Apologies to Miss Austen)
"Enough! Desist you fiend!" Darcy cried, as Bingley waged a vigorous assault with his hand upon Darcy's naked buttocks, now flushed a deep scarlet. "I beg you, have mercy!"
"I would have mercy on you, Darcy," Bingley replied, punctuating his words with resounding slaps to Darcy's glowing, cherry-red bottom, "had you not been unaccountably rude to Miss Elizabeth Bennet earlier tonight." He stopped for a moment, rubbing his hand across Darcy's severely chastised mounds, feeling the heat radiating from the scorched flesh. Bingley's own hand stung, but immediate correction of Darcy's insupportable behavior was required. "I believe I make my point, do I not?"
"Yes, yes! You have made your point most soundly," gasped Darcy, shifting and straining across Bingley's lap as his tormentor's hand moved into the cleft between Darcy's well-beaten buttocks in order to spread Darcy's thighs further apart. Suddenly, Bingley renewed his attack, striking tender flesh hitherto untouched. "Please, please, PLEASE!" Darcy entreated, his voice loud and high. "I regret my rudeness most profoundly!" he cried, gasping out the words between the sharp and determined spanks that Bingley continued to deliver. "I shall take any instruction that you give! Let me know how you wish me to mend my behavior!"
"That is better," Bingley said, delivering a final, powerful swat to Darcy's agonizingly tender bottom. "You will ask Miss Elizabeth Bennet to dance at the very next opportunity. I believe that will be Tuesday next at Sir Williams Lucas's. And if I do not see you and the charming Miss Bennet dancing together with every indication of pleasure, you will receive further and more severe correction upon our return to Netherfield that night."
Bingley allowed his chastened friend to rise and pull up his breeches, pretending to ignore Darcy's erect, moist organ and the large wet spot on his own thigh where Darcy's manhood had pressed during the chastisement. In turn, Darcy tried not to stare at the substantial bulge in Bingley's crotch revealing the young man's unmistakable arousal.
"But what if she refuses me?" Darcy asked, starting to sit down and then, thinking better of it, walking over to lean against the mantel, his face still flushed and his composure not fully regained. "That will not be my fault."
"How can she refuse if you begin with a sincere apology for your previous unforgivable breech of good manners? If you fail to entice her to dance I shall know you did not approach her with genuine remorse. And that will mean another episode across my lap, and I shall not be as gentle next time!" Bingley promised, with an unabashed grin. "I shall make my displeasure known most firmly."
"Gentle! How can this have been gentle? It is the severest you have yet administered. I doubt I shall be able to ride tomorrow." Darcy ruefully rubbed the seat of his breeches. "Where is the good natured young gentleman who sought my acquaintance not so long ago?"
"He is right here, my good Darcy," Bingley replied, rising from the chair and joining his friend near the fire. "And he has only the improvement of your disposition and manners as his utmost desire."
Bingley pulled Darcy close by putting an arm about Darcy's shoulders and gently drawing him into an embrace. The two young men held each other for a moment, Darcy's dark hair a contrast to Bingley's gold curls, glinting from the trembling flames of the fire.
"Now I must to bed," Bingley said, releasing Darcy, but not before giving Darcy's bottom a gentle swat. "We shall ride in to Meryton tomorrow, I think"
Later that night Darcy tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position for sleep, his stinging and still tender bottom reminding him of his spanking and keeping him in a state of tormented arousal. He knew Bingley would take delight on the morrow when Darcy attempted to ride as if his buttocks were not extraordinarily sensitive to every contact with the saddle.
His thoughts turned to the first time Bingley had spanked him and the sensations of surprise, shock and pleasurable excitement that the occasion had engendered. Bingley had come to Pemberly from town at Darcy's invitation. Darcy recalled being somewhat bemused when the good natured and gregarious Bingley had indicated such a clear desire to know Darcy better and to be in his company. Darcy was aware of his reputation for reserve, though he was credited with a sharp wit, and he also knew his large fortune made his acquaintance desirable to both men and women. But Bingley had his own money, though nothing to Darcy's, so his pleasure in Darcy's company seemed genuine and unaffected by Darcy's reputation. Certainly, Bingley's unmarried sister made her interest clear, though Darcy felt no answering warmth for the persistent and transparent Miss Bingley.
After a day of riding and shooting at Pemberly, the two young men had been relaxing in Darcy's dressing room enjoying some brandy and arguing companionably about the shooting. Bingley had been forced to admit that Darcy was the superior at every sport the two had so far engaged in together, but then had suggested that he could not be bettered at wrestling. Darcy could not exactly remember how it had happened that he and Bingley had ended up wrestling on the floor, laughing and scuffling with each other, only to find himself pinned face down with Bingley sitting on top of him. Darcy had made some joke about it not being surprising that someone so recently a gentleman would be superior at a brutal sport like wrestling, and Bingley had pretended to be insulted, promised to improve Darcy's understanding of brutality, and proceeded to administer a hearty spanking to the seat of Darcy's breeches.
That first episode had somehow awarded Bingley the power to administer subsequent spankings to Darcy, always on some pretext of misbehavior on Darcy's part deserving of correction. Lately, Bingley had begun pulling down Darcy's breeches in order to spank his friend's bare buttocks. Darcy wondered why he had not resisted with a stronger will instead of offering only a weak verbal protest. It was as if he were somehow bespelled by Bingley, submitting almost eagerly to the unexpected authority of the publicly less imposing Bingley. Both men were careful to ignore the clear indications that each was experiencing _s_e_x_ual stimulation as well during the spankings.
As he recalled these incidents, Darcy touched himself, giving his rigid member the lightest of strokes, and that was all that was necessary to cause a powerful release, shuddery and consuming, leaving him spent and sticky. At least he had not yet embarrassed himself across Bingley's lap, though it had been a near thing earlier when Bingley's fingers had brushed Darcy's testis as he pushed Darcy's thighs further apart to expose more flesh to the stinging slaps of his hand. Darcy felt himself stiffen again as he recalled that casual caress to his most private region.
At Sir William Lucas's a few days later, Darcy observed Elizabeth Bennet more closely, while Bingley flattered the lovely Jane Bennet with his attentions. Elisabeth and Jane were clearly the most tolerable of the Bennet daughters, with Jane 's calm beauty inspiring the most talentless observer to attempt the painter's art. Elisabeth, on the other hand, was much livelier, if not as conventionally fine of feature. Currently she was conversing with her friend Charlotte Lucas, allowing Darcy to admire her charming manner. Ever so often she would seem aware of his regard, and she would appear flustered for a moment only to renew her conversation with Ms. Lucas with greater intensity.
The brush of Bingley's hand across Darcy's bottom startled him from his abstraction, and his friend whispered, delighting in the threat,
"This will be aflame tonight if you remain standing here, my friend. Remember your duty!"
Darcy struggled to regain his composure, glancing at Bingley who was already returning to the side of the eldest Miss Bennet. Darcy advanced toward Elizabeth and Miss Lucas in order to engage the sprightly tongued Miss Bennet in conversation, which might lead to a dance later, as he was sure the irrepressibly vulgar younger Bennet sisters would encourage the soldiers present to demand dancing as entertainment suitable for the evening. Darcy felt he should avoid being across Bingley's lap again so soon after the recent session, as he feared what he might reveal if he lost control during the heady mix of pain and pleasure that Bingley's boisterous discipline inflicted.
However, Elizabeth Bennet evidently remembered with not a little displeasure Darcy's slight at the ball where Bingley first drew his attention to the two older Bennet sisters, for she refused every suggestion of a dance with Darcy, despite even Sir Williams' bumbling efforts to accomplish that end. Darcy could not deceive himself that Bingley was ignorant of Darcy's failure to engage Elizabeth in a dance, even though Bingley's attention seemed solely focused on Jane Bennet. A wink from Bingley as the evening waned confirmed Darcy's fear, and he felt a sudden emptiness in his stomach that was either dread or anticipation or a combination of both.
Later that evening, Darcy found himself once again across Bingley's lap with his breeches down about his ankles and his naked buttocks exposed to Bingley's stinging ministrations. Embarrassingly, he had grown stiff even before his young friend had lowered his breeches and pulled him down to begin the promised chastisement. Darcy's erect member was pressed against Bingley's thigh, and he tried not to shift or move in response to the sharp slaps of Bingley's hard hand since the rubbing of his erect organ against the material of his tormentor's breeches was proving an exquisitely exciting sensation.
"Please, Bingley, I did my utmost to convince Miss Bennet to dance," Darcy exclaimed, attempting to speak coherently amid the turmoil of feelings engendered by the vigorous application of Bingley's hand to his increasingly sensitive buttocks, occasionally interrupted by the rubbing of that same hand over the punished and tender flesh.
"You must desist, I beg you!" Darcy cried, again. "I cannot, cannot . . ."
"What can you not, my naughty lad?" Bingley responded, continuing to soundly spank his older friend with great, hearty slaps upon Darcy's clenched and quivering buttocks. "You knew this would result if you failed in the charge I expressly laid upon you." Then, clearly desiring to enter into the dimension of pleasure both had hitherto pretended to ignore, Bingley reached with his free hand over and under his prone friend to seize Darcy's rigid organ, alternately tightening and relaxing his grasp on Darcy's leaking rod while taking advantage of Darcy's involuntary spreading of his legs to sharply spank the tender flesh newly exposed.
"Oh! You mustn't, you mustn't . . .," Darcy pleaded, incapable of denying himself any longer. With a great cry, Darcy found release, his warm, milky fluid flooding out in great spurts, covering Bingley's grasping hand, his sleeve and his breeches. Eventually, Darcy was spent, his body draped across Bingley in complete submission as Bingley gently rubbed Darcy's hot, flushed bottom.
Though reluctant to rise and meet Bingley's eye, Darcy lifted himself off of Bingley's lap into a kneeling position, blushing anew as his gaze took in the large, moist splotches on Bingley's thigh and the sleeve of his shirt as well as the glistening remnants of Darcy's pleasure coating his sweet tormentor's hand. The enormous erection clearly outlined against the fabric covering Bingley's crotch could not be missed either. Bingley began to unfasten his breeches and shortly his rigid member was released from its imprisoning cloth and stood tall and moist at the tip inches from Darcy's face.
"This piece of hard wood could use a French polish, don't you think, Darcy?" Bingley asked, grinning widely as he caught Darcy's eye. Whatever else he had planned to say was converted into gasps and moans of pleasure as Darcy demonstrated his knowledge of that particular avenue of gratification afforded by the enthusiastic application of lips and mouth to the male instrument of generation. Darcy had been schooled by his friend Colonel Fitzwilliam in a number of diverting ways.
Later, much later, as the two men rested, Bingley remarked,
"I have decided what will be best, my good Darcy. I shall marry Jane Bennet and you shall marry Elizabeth. Then you shall never be too far away nor absent too long from my side not to benefit from any necessary corrective instruction!"
And that is exactly what happened, though the road to its realization provided more than a few bumps.
THE END