Bunkhouse Discipline

The bunkhouse was quiet except for the creak of old boards and the steady rhythm of crickets outside. Most of the ranch hands had turned in for the night, the halls dark except for the lanterns by the doors.

In the corner room, though, Gene and Joe had pushed their bunks together into one double bed. Sleep was the last thing on their minds.

They were naked, sweat-slicked, tangled in sheets that already reeked of sex. Tonight Joe was in one of his moods, the kind where he took control. Gene was loud when he bottomed, and tonight he was especially vocal — groaning, moaning, egging Joe on with every thrust and slap.

Joe pulled out, panting, cock wet and dripping. He grabbed Gene by the arm, shoved him to his knees, and growled, “Kneel.”

Gene looked up with a cocky smirk. “Make me.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. He snatched his belt off the floor, looped it in his fist, and cracked it hard across Gene’s bare ass. Gene jolted with a sharp gasp. Joe shoved him face-first over the back of the bed and laid the belt across him again and again until Gene was writhing, his pale skin striped red.

Then Joe hauled him upright, kissed him rough, and slapped him across the face. “I said kneel.”

This time, Joe’s hand tangled in his blond hair, forcing him down. Gene dropped to his knees, cock stiff and leaking.

“Open your mouth,” Joe ordered, his cock hanging inches away.

Gene clenched his jaw, defiant.

Joe slapped him again. “Open your fucking mouth.”

Gene finally obeyed, lips parting, and Joe shoved himself inside. He groaned as his cock disappeared down Gene’s throat, his grip tightening at the crown of Gene’s head.

“Take it. All of it. Relax your throat. Don’t you dare pull back till I say.”

Joe face-fucked him brutally, driving deep, pulling out only to slap his cheek and push him back down. Gene gagged and moaned, spit pouring down his chin, but he didn’t hold back — every guttural sound echoing through the room.

That was when the door burst open.

The foreman stood there, belt already in his hand, face like thunder.

“What in the hell is going on here?” he barked. His voice carried down the hall. Doors opened. Sleepy faces appeared, one by one, every ranch hand peering out into the light.

“Out. Both of you.”

Joe and Gene froze, then scrambled up, cocks still stiff, faces flushed with lust and shame. The foreman grabbed them each by the arm and hauled them into the hallway. The whole bunkhouse was awake now, leaning against doorframes, watching.

“Hands on the wall. Asses out,” the foreman ordered.

They obeyed, bare and bent, their red-striped asses glowing under the lantern light.

The first lash cracked across Joe’s ass, a white-hot stripe that made him flinch but not cry out. Gene was next, his body jerking as the belt found fresh welts.

The foreman paced behind them, swinging hard, alternating between the two. “You want to rut like dogs and keep the whole house awake?” Crack. “Then the whole house will see you punished.” Crack. “Maybe you’ll learn to keep your cocks in your pants after lights out.”

Joe gritted his teeth, taking the licks in silence. Gene, though — Gene couldn’t hold back. He groaned, yelped, cursed under his breath, and the other hands whispered at their doors, watching him squirm. Joe stayed stoic, even proud, but Gene’s cries filled the hall as the belt rose and fell.

By the end, both were marked, asses welted and blazing, their bodies trembling.

The foreman let the belt fall to his side. “Get back in your room. And keep it down.”

The hallway slowly emptied as doors shut, one by one. Joe and Gene stumbled back inside, sore and raw, breath ragged.

Joe leaned close, his voice low and dangerous. “As soon as it gets quiet again, we’re going out into the woods and finishing this.”

Gene’s cock twitched. He smirked through the pain. “Yes, sir.”

---

They slipped out half an hour later, boots on, cocks already swelling again. The woods were quiet, dark, the smell of pine thick in the night air.

Joe shoved Gene against a tree, belt still in his hand. He wrapped it around Gene’s wrists, binding them back around the trunk, and slapped his ass until Gene was begging.

“Louder,” Joe growled. “Let the whole ranch know who you belong to.”

Joe spat in his hand, slicked his cock, and rammed into him from behind, fucking him rough and fast. Gene cried out, voice cracking.

“Fuck, Joe — you’re so thick,” Gene groaned, body arching. “You’re gonna rip me in half. Go easy!”

Joe gritted his teeth, hips slamming harder. “Not a chance.”

Each thrust drove deeper, Gene groaning louder with every stroke, his cheek pressed to the bark, his voice echoing through the trees.

“Say it,” Joe demanded, slapping his ass. “Whose hole is this?”

“Yours, Joe! Oh God — it’s yours!”

Joe pulled his head back by the hair, fucking him until Gene’s cock spurted against the tree trunk, streaking the bark with cum. Moments later Joe buried himself deep, groaning as he pumped load after load inside until hot rivulets dripped down Gene’s thighs.

They collapsed together in the dirt, breathing hard, sweat and cum cooling on their skin.

Joe pressed his lips to Gene’s ear and whispered, raw and tender, “I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

Gene turned his head, kissing him rough and desperate. “God, I love you too.”

The woods fell silent again, but their bodies stayed tangled, sore and sated, under the stars.

Next Up: The Branding Pen Dare