Juvenalas Penitatas: Scent of Ginger

Original Series by Vaahn

The warm, herbaceous scent of pan seared meat wafted strongly enough throughout the house to overpower the typical musk of dark greens that always seemed to come with mealtime. Excited for the prospect of getting to eat something he might actually like, Talek responded to his newfound mother figure’s beckon with only but a brief delay in getting down the stairs from his punitive terrarium of a bedroom. Those extra few moments meant that Rilka was already at the table when he crossed the open breadth of the eggshell blue archway into the dining room, beaming a patient smile for all the same olfactory reasons from her seat as Liki finished portioning out their plates. The initial clap of Talek’s foot-claw against the tile brought his willfully immature scamper to dull itself, mindful enough to at least not get himself into trouble, and with a pull of his nine year old paws, the slide of his chair quickly had the seat of his shorts tucked up into it.

“That – smells – awesome.”, the boy’s whispering voice squeaked with childish glee across the table. Despite being a year younger than him, Rilka scoffed a note of amusement.

“It is good.”, she assured with a wave of her cream-scaled paw, not speaking at all as softly considering there wasn’t anything wrong with complimenting their mother’s cooking, “You might not actually sit there making faces at me today.”

“I’m not averse to treating you dears. Protein should be varied for growing little bodies, after all.”, Liki declared in her caretaking tone, tapping her serving spoon against the second and final blue and white plate to the clang of glass; each filled rim to rim with diced cubes of golden crusted meat and dark, tender spheres of leafy green. Beside the steaming piles of food, the blue-green scaled woman took a seat on her kitchen stool and began chopping and shaving at a pleasantly pungent root on a cutting board, adding a mix of sweet spice to the kitchen’s cacophony of aromas.

But, in time, the two giddy little lizards found themselves continuing to sit without their meal, looking increasingly bewildered and concerned as they watched Liki sit there beside their plates. The root she was trimming down and cutting the skin off wasn’t being added atop, and the steam coming off the maw-watering cubes of meat was slowly fading. Considering the awkward silence the dining room fell under, their mother did eventually side-eye the two of them to assess the inquisitive, scorned little snouts pointed her way.

“… Now, children, withholding that ‘treat’ wasn’t planned, but life doesn’t always go according to plan, you see.”, she broke that silence with a lighter, almost apologetic sort of motherly allure, striking the waiting pair with the tension that routinely came with their household’s overarching punitive dread, never quite knowing when or where it would strike out of the blue.

“W-what did I do?”, Rilka whined sharply, knowing for a fact she had minded herself and done everything she had been told the whole day. Liki shook her head, snout in her precise knife-work.

“Oh, it’s nothing you did, my poor little one.”, that pity cooed; the cutting board making a dull clop against the counter as the twisted brown root was cut in half, revealing more of its creamy yellow.

“Talek, though… ”, she again eyeballed toward her shoulder, stiffening up the home’s still-fresh Juvenalas with the tone of a mother’s distinct scold.

“I heard you come down the stairs, and I really shouldn’t unless you’re barreling down them. We were already going to be having a talk about that.”, Liki leveled with the boy as she lifted a chunk of root, paring at its end to bare a bulbous little knot of that wet, silken yellow flesh, “But then I heard it again. You came down the stairs twice, and I know why. You thought nothing of it I’m sure, and I’m not one to quibble over semantics, but the rules as you were told were, explicitly, to ask permission to potty when you’re down on the first floor, or with your father and I. You weren’t allowed to turn around and go back without coming to me first.”

“I, um-… But I-”, Talek stumbled, lifting his claws from the table in a stiff retreat to his chest, but the motherly Karrian; tail half wrapped around her kitchen stool and own dress; simply flicked the root she had been tending toward him as a cautionary threat, turning her attentions away from the board to treat the lad to the complete furl of her brows.

“Little boy, hold that fib you’re thinking of letting out, or so help me you’ll be having a dinner of soap and muck, do you understand? I will fill that baby maw until there’s no room left for lies!”, she chided with a wag of that pungent root, mixed with such sharp notes of Kindern belittlement and Penitatas chastisement alike that both Talek and Rilka both flinched, sinking into their seats with a nagging feeling at their jaws and eyes.

“I can hear every every pipe in the house when I’m in the kitchen, and you’d be fooling yourself to think that I don’t know what your potty sounds like. You’re already going to be punished once I’m done with this knot of ginger for your tail, so lets not make it worse unless you want to waste more time and eat your dinner when it’s ice cold.”, Liki’s torrent of harsh parental retorts softened as she went, emphasizing her point of stopping Talek from making an extra mistake on top of his first before it was too late; sparing the lad.

Rilka raised one of her lightly colored brows, eyeballing her brother-in-punishment as their mother’s sharp-witted mercy went over his head by the look of how tightly his snout curled behind the bite of his muzzle’s lip. He looked like he wanted to cry right off the bat just knowing he was in trouble, because surely there was no way the ridiculous Kindern had any clue what ‘ginger for your tail’ meant when even she didn’t.

“I-I really didn’t think of that! I’m sorry!”, Talek spurt out such a mewl, called out as harshly as he was like the ceiling itself was made of the same windows his bedroom was. His actions were too meaningless to ever feel like an infraction in the moment, but even as he apologized for his slip, his new mother continued whipping her paring knife against the root she doted upon.

“But momma, if I’m not in trouble, could I eat my dinner? I’ll be quiet.”, Rilka cut into the silence that followed to promise.

“This is one of those punishments you will be sharing with your brother, buttercup. I have two perfectly good pieces of ginger here and I’m not going to let half of it go to waste.”, Liki didn’t look up from her work to sentence her first and true Penitatas to an unearned session of discipline, surely enough picking up the other piece of ginger to pare a big, rounded end similar to the first.

“Well, what are you two waiting for?”, the woman looked over her shoulder and questioned nary a moment later once the two continued to sit and stare with such pitiful eyes, sunken into their seats like any rejuve about to get smacked, “Get undressed and come here so your food will still be warm when you sit back down.”

They had both been naked enough in each other’s company that the process of disrobing didn’t take any fighting, but the kitchen and dining space was still treated to Talek’s muffled, airy blubbers between the rustles of cotton against smooth, soft scale. The boy never handled anything well, and with the promise of some foreign, unknown punishment looming over her, Talek found herself needing to keep swallowing to stifle her own need to hiccup when Talek’s teary sounds kept prodding the vulnerable side of her eight year old mind. Tiny young scales bared themselves to the air as shirt s and shorts struck the tile beside the feet of their chairs, and in a moment’s time, two little pelvises were obediently side by side; one with a light green, loosely furled nub of a hose atop a small sac, and the other a gentle slope of silken cream. So close to the stool and the height of the kitchen counter, that ginger was all the pair could smell, even with their dinners so close to their hungry mouths.

“What are you gon’ do?”, Talek’s jaw betrayed his speech, looking up at the bit of ginger root his mother clutched in her claw; one of its thick fingers rounded into a bulb and stripped of all its skin up past a point where it shrank smaller before thickening again from the way she had carved bits out of it.

With a slide of her dress against the kitchen stool, Liki slipped off her seat and directed her son to take hold of the edge of the counter without explaining a word – something that was stiff, labored and uneasy when Talek’s legs wanted to move as much as that jaw of his. A nudge from her claw bent him forward, and from that awkward lean did she take hold of his tail not far from its base. The moment she knelt down; claws raking the tile from her foot-claw’s slide; Talek scrunched up his face into a perpetual wince, expecting a spank, but what came unbeknownst to him was enough to make Rilka’s eyes go wide in shock, fingers curling with a step backward.

The dreaded punishment came as a cold, hard tap against the pinkened, sunken furl at the very base of Talek’s reptilian tail, and it absolutely made the little lizard jump upon its unexpected intrusive contact. His restrained tail was shoved up against his back the moment his muscles all leapt, knocking his balance onto the tips of his wobbling toes as his mother’s other dexterous claw twisted that fresh knot of exposed ginger with a hearty press; enough to deeply indent the little boy’s tail and strain his unlubricated tailhole.

“G`ghhh-ah! No – no, stop!”, the special-case Juvenalas cried out in mortification, hardly able to throw his syllables out against the invasion of his tail before his tiniest scales and warm, hidden flesh all sunk into hugging that terribly large carved plug forcing its way into his most private of hidden holes. It felt like almost two adult thumbs in size! His tender, sensitive anal nerves could feel each and every cut his mother’s knife made, and his wrinkles stretched and conformed to their irregular ridges and rougher surfaces – all summarily whipped and ground down by the twisting of the ginger spinning within his instinctive, uncontrollable clench, sending fluttering butterflies straight up into his white-speckled tummy.

Though as promptly as he screeched in protest to something so horrible, wiggling and squirming against the counter with an awkward curl of his tail, that big wad of ginger slipped past the widest point of the bulb Liki carved, wrinkles stretching taut and smooth until the rest sank beyond his tailhole and into the glove of his rectum; summarily locked in place by the boy’s ring of muscle. The push from his mother’s claw continued until the thicker bit behind the bulb hilted his anus and bottom hard, squishing into the valley of his Karrian cheeks, finding a natural tuck beneath his tail as its tip flicked and flailed… there being an odd, increasingly uncomfortable sensation coming about until it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Cold and wet, promptly turned to scorching acid.

“Hot! It’ hot!”, Talek’s high pitched cry broke a word again, the blaze of the ginger’s burn flared up so immediately and intensely.

All of the force lumping that knot of root into his bottom to be felt way up front in his pelvis ceased just as abruptly, and the desperate, scalded little rejuvenated child leapt on his foot-claws, bouncing like a Penitatas getting their arm held high to dance in place for a spanking. Akin to a real fire, his paws bolted to his backside at warp speed, sobbing and carrying on – his fingers gripping at his scaly haunch for dear life, pawing around the base of his tail despite the grab of a grown feminine claw trying to restrain his wrist.

“Take it out! Take it ouuuu-oww!”, he loudly begged until he broke into a smaller child’s sobbing; the immense chemical-feeling fire enveloping the entirety of his tail’s little hole. It ignited a searing wave of pain from as deep as his tailbase could feel within him, sending pangs into his belly, and the burn was at his worst where his tailhole gripped and gnashed at that thinner neck his mother carved to keep the bulb inside of him; his most delicate of tiny folds and furls practically milking the flesh of the root with his constant squeeze.

“Talek!”, Liki chided the noisy bound against her kitchen tiles, pulling her errant son’s wrist with a sharp tug from her crouch. As soon as she pried it away, she slapped the nine-year-old bottom-cheek it was so dearly cradling, inciting another stamping jump of Talek’s footclaws; his tiny nails clipping and clapping beneath the tantrum smacks of his scales to the floor.

“Paws on your head!”, she commanded, using the attention she bought with her unannounced spank.

The ginger’s violating lump failed to fade, and the continued smoldering fire from that searing rod left Talek a crying little mess while his mother corralled his paws and forced them to his black hair. A splotchy red claw-print warmed into existence beside the un-peeled end of ginger jutting from his bottom, twitching and wobbling from the unbecoming swings of the boy’s tail. It was obviously a daunting task for Talek to calm down any semblance after having his tailbase intruded upon, but as his paws dared leave his head to wipe themselves forward over his eyes, the fidgeting lad looked through the smear of horrified tears against his eyelids over his shoulder and sharply inhaled at the gut-punch of seeing Rilka’s paw-covered snout staring at him. It never dawned on him in the moment that she was never told not to watch, and something going up his butt was worse than someone watching him go to the bathroom! Poor Talek’s sharp reptilian teeth bared from his snout in his muffled, yet ugly little cry, and his muzzle-wide blush from the burn and embarrassment got a shade brighter.

“There – that’s enough. It’s hot and it hurts, I know dear, but the ginger is harmless. It can’t hurt you, and puts the coals to your lil’ tail-spot only for as long as it’s kept in you. No cream needed to feel better when we’re done!”, his mother got to resume the kinder and calmer way she typically spoke once it was clear Talek was trying, answering that broken and abused look all over his tear-trailed snout; his paws fighting to keep upon his head. She held one claw upon his hip and the other his shoulder to steady and keep him in place for her quick talk and assessment, but a faintly bemused smirk couldn’t be wiped entirely off her face when Talek’s tail kept lashing back and forth behind him. There was something awfully cute about it.

“Now, it’s your sister’s turn.”, Liki essentially told them both, once she eyed back toward Rilka to include her, “Go stand where she is so you can get just as personal of a view!”

For entirely different, but still yet somehow similar reasons, both rejuves looked deeply uncomfortable at the prospect. Talek’s snout wrinkled with the gnash of his eyes, dripping a held tear from both as he finished turning around – revealing the nearly full-staff erection he had been hiding with the subtle twist of his hips. He wasn’t exactly a big fellow at only nine years old; his foreskin pulled back only as far as the thick of his head, stiffly stepping to where he was told with his head hung in shame. There was nothing he liked about what just happened… it stimulated nerves that acted on their own, no matter how much his stomach knotted. Fortunately, Rilka could have guessed such a thing would happen, and it was no wonder their mother didn’t bother to say anything at all over something so expected. In the end, their shaming was mutual, if she was to come forward to the counter’s edge to lift her tail in the direction of that obvious sore thumb of a prick, losing her privacy in front of a boy that had no control over his little sac.

Nervous, yet hesitantly hopeful, Rilka’s young foot-claws stepped past Talek, meeting eyes with her mother. The Juvenalas was way more of a crybaby than she could be, and that had the cream-scaled little lass wondering how much of a dramatic put-on the boy’s hopping show was, howling over the ginger being hot. Sure, it smelled fumy and with some sort of nostril-clearing heat; getting her nose up to the counter’s edge as she was; but it was sweet and pleasant, she affirmed within as that second gnarl of carved ginger root was lifted off the cutting board ahead of her gaze, putting her paws into position the same as Talek was made. Willing to get the matter over with so she could eat, Rilka hiked her tail up high, leaning forward until she felt nothing but open air anywhere near her bright pink, petite feminine tailhole. The cream color of her scales faded and blended into it with a gentle gradient, with fewer hints of subtle wrinkle visible from her reptilian exterior.

But, despite expecting the same cold, hard prod, Rilka confusedly heard her mother hum as she held her position.

“Oh, no sweetie, that’s not how a girl takes her ginger proper.”, she was treated to such babying tones that the underlying meaning of the words took Rilka a moment to process; her tail sinking a tad as its tip drooped.

“Keep like that, but spread your legs nice and open for mom.”, was a lot more obvious as to where the cut knot of ginger was meant to go, forcing a distressed gasp from her lizard maw as Talek froze in the middle of his solemn, quiet fit. Rilka’s girlish tail came down with a whip’s lash, and a half spin to meet with her mother’s face as the snap of a claw came upon her upper arm.

“Don’t, plea-… !”, the eight year old penny launched into a shrill plea, only to be stopped short – and hard.

“Rilka, don’t you dare!”, Liki warned with the same ferocity Talek was given earlier when he nearly let something from his mouth that would have done him further harm.

“I will absolutely raise my voice with you, unearned punishment or not, if you don’t do exactly as you’re told! You know better than to make this worse, and I promise the ginger is harmless.”, she again reassured, melding her scold in with her mothering; claw keeping Rilka from darting away off her foot-claws. The girl shivered and stretched her maw into a tear-suppressing frown, fighting to not cry, but after staring into her mother’s eyes for a spell, Rilka couldn’t help a hiccuping, tiny sobbing fit of defeat, burning her throat. Her mother totally waited to drop this on her, just to tease and make it harder. “Give mommy your flower, and we’ll be done.”

All of Rilka’s pouting and will to have her nethers left alone was soon met by a more tantrum-sounding sob, swinging her body back into place with a brisk, willful upward toss of her tail. Her paws gripped the counter and her head hung more dejectedly, unwilling to look her silver ‘P’s in the face for how her actions put her in this awful predicament – self-pity taking hold as she did as she was told, exposing the excessively immature slit between her legs the same as she initially did her tailhole. The natural anatomical shape of her tail flowed into the crease of her bottom’s valley, dipping under her with a supple, swallowing curve, turning cheek and tail-base into the crease of vulva and her thigh’s folds. As much as Talek saw her nude, he had hoped this wouldn’t be too daunting upon his shameful stiffy, but in the end the position she took reminded him of a girl in a porno-flick presenting herself… that tight and tiny split of silken scale in her shadow beckoning some tucked away thoughts that lifted his penis with a few ticking twitches of his fluttering heartbeat. Still, squinting constantly made it hard to really enjoy with his ass on absolute ungodly fire, sizzling upon every nerve.

And, same as Talek, Rilka was not given any warning before her person was invaded. Well aware of female Karrian genitalia and that of her daughter’s to boot, the cut end of the ginger wormed between the young clasp of her cream-scaled lips as a claw came upon her hip and bottom; a thumb pulling her cheek away from her crotch, stretching privates into the clear open. It helped part the soft yet taut natural hug of Rilka’s vulva, and with a good eye, her mother found the nearly-puckered hole she sought back there at the bottom of her girlish crease of shimmering pink flesh. Without fanfare, or even being gentle about it, Liki pushed the rough-cut piece of ginger hard up against her daughter, treating her to the same twisting grind that Talek got – something that promptly made the little girl’s toes curl and her body jerk, squealing in pained discomfort from the largely dry knot of root. The gut-punch went into her hip bones and wobbled around inside of her as the ginger was forcibly worked inside of her vaginal passage; its tiny entry-rim stretching to hug around the purpose-cut bulb, scraped and scratched by every irregularity as it was turned and sandpapered her.

For Rilka, the wave of incredible heat came faster than Talek too, as thin and absorbent as all that tender, private skin was. The knot of ginger hadn’t been fully sheathed up into her crotch with one last heavy push before the little penny cried out a muffled shriek; her cunny lighting afire with enough searing pain that her legs clapped shut around her mother’s claw whether she wanted to disobey or not. Every bit of her inner lips that touched the root came to be afflicted by its tainted moisture, and the huge piece with all of its liberally removed skin managed to gnash itself up against most of the entirety of her sex, not to mention how far up it went, and how tightly her too-small passageway held a bulb so unmeant for it. Rilka cried, squeaking and squealing as her position broke almost entirely, smashing herself forward against the cabinet door and counter’s edge in the scraping, scuffing dance of her feet. It was to no avail when the ginger was held in place and so tightly retained, as she so quickly discovered when her mother’s cradling claw left the cup of her legs.

It was enough to make Talek lift a knee, crossing his foot-claws in sympathy pain in imagining the fumy fire under his tail anywhere near his penis – something that continued to stand at attention, bounding with his squirming. There was no stopping it, even if he felt for the girl, seeing a rod of something being punishingly driven into such a tiny hole, and without the help of lubrication. Lube would have just dulled the burn, and their mother meant for this to be harsh, clearly. The only reprieve Rilka got in comparison was that her tear-stricken dance wasn’t treated with a spank, but rather a simple catch of her mother’s claws into a hug against her crouched stature; there being some understanding and acceptance of how egregious and distressing the punishment truly was, even if it rang with an element of ritualism that made it seem traditional, from somewhere. The eight year old bawled her eyes out, if though briefly, until the burn of the ginger could be worked around within her mind and endorphins, gasping and wriggling in such a subdued fit.

“There there, cream-cake. That’s better, take a breath.”, their blue-green scaled mother comforted, rubbing her back even as the little lizard’s maw hissed into a broken growl; a lost hint of punishing ginger juice creeping up upon the outer edge of her urethra to hasten her tiny cries.

“The two of you can go take your seats, and plop your little tushes down on those bits of ginger. It’s time for dinner!”, she extended to the sniffling and sobbing pair of over-enthusiastically thrashing tails.

Neither were thrilled at the prospect, but the outcome was inevitable. Sliding into their seats was a chore in ensuring their plugs of ginger didn’t bend or get caught on anything, hurting worse, and than another challenge in trying to figure out how to sit on the hard wood in the bare with something sticking out of them. Rilka couldn’t find a comfortable position to keep from getting jabbed by all her weight no matter how much she whimpered and gripped at her seat as Liki brought their plates over, but Talek’s misty eyes found a special solace in finally getting to see all those diced meat bits up close. In his case, he leaned his weight upon his thighs and slouched a tad, diving right into his dinner to make himself feel better and escape focusing on the base of his well-punished and still-roasting tail.

The food was a little warm still… and it would have been fine if not for Rilka’s bouts of stronger sputtering taking away from getting his earned distraction. She wasn’t having as much luck, and had to be reminded not to reach down and risk touching the ginger in any way. That alone seemed like an act of kindness to let her get away with potentially trying to adjust it even once, but it might have been tough to go much harder on her when she could hardly stop wiping her eyes. In fact, considering she was holding her fork when she did that most of the time, the little lizard ended up with a lost fleck of greens in her dark blue hair that their mother caught and wiped off on the way by, in the midst of cleaning. Talek appreciated the fact he didn’t feel like he was being screwed by his piece of ginger every time he moved a muscle, like she was… not that the sensation of being fingered was much more palatable, but still.

In the midst of sliding a fork-full of mixed meat and greens into his maw, muzzle wrinkled and eyes squinting, Talek’s punishment-weary senses took a shiver to the sound of his father’s heavier footfalls. Shon came through the dining area’s open archway with a lift of a brow at his teary-cheeked son and uncomfortably sobbing daughter, nose nearly in her plate, and found his reptilian nostrils sniffing at the air. His throat rolled a deep, rumbling hum, slipping to Liki’s side at the sink for a moment of whispered discussion that Talek sank into his seat nervously for. Was she telling him that he’d done something bad? Be it muscle tension or anticipation, but the temperature of his anus’ searing burn turned up a few degrees.

“Ah, so my two little ones are why the room reeks of ginger.”, Shon’s lighter flavor of authoritative tones took forefront once he was ready to speak to the room as a whole, sweeping an egg-timer off the countertop.

“Since we’re having ourselves a good old-fashioned punishment for naughty Penitatas, why don’t we try something else that’s a touch old-fashioned? How about a rousing penny game, hmm?”, sounded far too casual for the sort of dreadful howl Rilka made into her food, giving Talek the context he needed to make his stomach sour.

“Da-d’ee, no-oh! N-no game’sh!”, the eight year old sobbed hard enough to wobble her syllables, burying her tear-streaked snout into her paws; fork again finding its sullied way into her hair by accident, utterly torn up as she was. It wasn’t easily seen, but her legs and footpaws crossed and uncrossed constantly, damn near kicking claw-ruts the dinner table’s center post – muff red hot, and ginger shoved so hard into her by her own weight that it could go no farther.

Shon acted like he saw and heard none of it, smiling as he sometimes seemed to when twisting punishment.

“Rules are simple you two. First one to finish their plate gets their ginger taken out, and their fire treated to a wet-wipe like a lil’ tyke at changing time!”, he announced as an easy-out for what ailed them, waving that egg-shaped kitchen timer between his fingertips.

“But, the one who loses has to wait an hour for this timer to ring, before theirs comes out.”, stung as the caveat to the contest of parental decree, making things better for one penny but markedly worse for the other.

Talek took one glance at the table and felt a glimmer of tail-relieving hope, seeing how lopsided the odds were already. He had already finished most of his dinner, but all of Rilka’s dawdling and crying had her only half way through her plate at best! That must not have sat well with her father, and the poor hard-timer knew it by the way she sobbed in utter frustration; eyes clenched shut to the roll of heavy, weighted tears down slick scale. The kind that begged without saying a thing.

“Best of luck you two!”, Shon fired the starting gun for his little ‘game’ by twisting the egg-timer as far as it would go.

The rip of the little egg’s gears had Talek leaping right into eating like a good little lad, suspect of there being pitfalls if he were to shovel food into his mouth rudely. Eyeballing across the table as his fork poked and prodded enthusiastically, Rilka’s shaking paw was struggling to keep anything together and get anything in her maw at any sort of speed. Her jaw was too stiff to chew, and that quickly had her trying to eat at a pace that even the likes of Talek wouldn’t cross. She kicked her feet and cried with increasing notes of desperation by the time her fork had transformed itself into a shovel, seeing Talek’s nearly clean plate when she couldn’t so much as keep herself together any longer.

The two sides of the table were night and day at the end, with the fresh Juvenalas calmly pecking at his last two orbs of leafy greens without having to try… and Rilka having given up in a sad, defeated fit of open mawed lament; her fork left on the plate, unable to continue.

“… And it seems we have our winner.”, Shon turned to his daughter of over three years with a disappointed frown.

“Talek, you’re disqualified. Unsportsmanlike conduct.”, his eye shifted across the table away from the bawling little penny, catching his newfound son so off-guard his jaw went slack with a snivel of disbelief.

The Juvenalas stumbled and stammered with a nine year old rejuve’s hesitant throat, burning from the unfairness and derisive twist of the knife. He was so careful to be good! The boy’s eyes watered, bubbling emotions of betrayal after giving the demanding man exactly what he wanted.

“Son, your sister is absolutely beside herself, and you’re well enough to still have your dinner. Even if your little tail is roasting, you’d allow her to spend another hour like this? I won’t reward selfishness.”, the true nature of this little ‘game’ came apparent, having been a different trick than the one expected. Talek lifted his paws from the table, mewling sounds without words.

“If you helped Rilka finish first, you both would have won. But, if you’d rather ditch your sister when she needs you to be thoughtful the most, then I think it’s best you get to experience what a piece of ginger can do for a good spanking!”, Shon left the ticking egg-timer on the table, pivoting on the tile to go and fetch a wooden spoon out of a decorative cup beside the stove.

Sliding his chair away from the table with a push off of a bare claw, Talek sank and blubbered all alone in the open spotlight he had been thrust into, too frozen by quickly-trained fear to leap off his bottom and stagger away from the promise of a thrashing without having been given permission to leave the table. It gave him a front row seat to the thick of his parent’s tails crossing paths in a slide by one another, curling with instinctive unison on contact even while their focus was wholly upon their errant children; Liki joining Rilka’s side with her promised wet-wipe of victory, having won by default. Even so, the feminine little lizard kept her snout down in her paws, leaning back and shifting oddly in her seat, knee lifting, all so her mother could carefully wriggle the dry knot of ginger root out of the clasp of her spongy, blisteringly agonized folds in the shadow of the table.

“Oh’f!”, Rilka squeaked out tearfully with a flinch the moment it popped free of such a tight, woefully under-loved hole, getting all the pleasant shushes and motherly hums she needed to cry out her frustrations. And, just as Liki assured so firmly, the incredibly personal, invading fire calmed itself once the residue of the ginger was wiped away, tingling into a field that was both stinging and cold, moving around her slit like vapors creeping from a vent.

… Talek stared even if he couldn’t see any of the private places he enjoyed gawking at. When no visible relief came over Rilka, he couldn’t help but feel bad. That must have been really, really harsh for her, having seen the seasoned penny bounce back after some awfully deafening spankings. It got his mouth to move, despite as his more childish side wanting to clam up like a real Kindern.

“Sorry Rilky.”, his stiff jaw accidentally mangled into a pet-name at the end, wanting to apologize for having gone back up the stairs to get them into this trouble to begin with, much less nearly settling her with the burden of having to sear in her ginger for far longer than him; the girl sniffling and sobbing so airily into the lip of her dinner plate, burying her muzzle into her arms to rest if she was going to be allowed.

“Are you now?”, came deeper and closer above than Talek would have expected, having lost track of his father in his age’s narrow attention span.

It was always a scary prospect to find himself beneath the larger Karrian, but eyeing up from his shrunken seat made Shon tower so intimidatingly, standing there with the blonde wood kitchen spoon he had chosen for taking his tail to task. Instantly his wet eyes fixated on the shape of the spoon’s end, dreading what being spanked by it would sting like, but it swept away with a turn of his father’s back; replaced by the clattering slide of the man’s own chair across the tile.

“Why don’t you prove it to all of us then? Climb over my lap on your own, without a fuss.”, Shon spoke aloud to the room, setting a stage in order to address his son. He swung his tail out over the chair’s seat to take his place upon it, crossing his arms over his chest to make a black, trouser-covered lap, wide open with plenty of room for a young lad; spoon grasped firmly in his paw.

Talek didn’t want to. He didn’t think he ever would, balking at the idea of submitting himself to pain. Being glared at expectantly, and without further word, merely made the vulnerable little boy he had become sob, wrinkling his snout in sorrow. Feeling utterly defeated and without recourse, already burning deep under the tuck of his tail, brought him to rise from his chair slowly, holding his paws to his face as he stepped forward. Afraid to say a single thing interpreted as a ‘fuss’ and make matters worse for himself, recalling all the times Rilka had warned him about ‘letting things happen’ when traps like that were set, his urgency for leniency and the removal of his fiery butt-plug had his limbs doing things that made him cry – sliding over Shon’s lap, settling his naked pelvis right where it needed to be, and on the correct side for the man’s dominant paw to boot.

“It looks like our little Talek is starting to get it, dear.”, came as an authoritative, brightly masculine announcement from above the short strands of Talek’s black hair; head dangling the same as his feet.

The boy didn’t know if the words were for his mother or Rilka, or if they referred to the obedience they expected of him as he figured, for his tail was snatched and pulled straight up along his back without a moment’s respite. As a boy about to be thrashed by an older man, the strong-armed motion wrenched his tailhole taut around the jutting wad of ginger peering out from the base of his tail where the thick of it met with his bottom’s cheeks, treating Talek’s previously spared anal folds to a fresh burn before he tightened up into an anticipating wince…

And, again, Shon didn’t make him wait. The first spank of the spoon came quick and hard, slapping into thin, soft bottom-scale with a resounding crack. Talek boyishly shrieked and bucked, jerking his whole body as rapidly as the lightweight wooden spoon came back to his backside, lighting up his nerves with a repeating flurry of brisk stings – the slapping drowning out the air in the room. His tail tried shooting back in pain-mortified defense, but in his father’s grasp all it could do was thrash and wriggle in desperation the same as his legs, kicking and carrying on to the sort of traditional spanking only someone wearing his punitive letters would fathom being given. Oval shapes of red cropped up, fading into existence one after another in its punishing dance all around his bottom and upper base of his thighs, steering clear of only his protrusion ginger root penetrating his little under-tail. It made itself wildly apparent to Talek’s misery, discovering why corporal punishment after “getting figged” was so abysmal.

Beyond the licking flames from the spoon stinging his bottom until it was red and hot, Talek’s own tension and instinctive clenching punished him just as soundly, unwillingly being made to squeeze his tailhole around his ginger with all his nine-year-old might. The burn from it went from horrible to unbearable, and it hurt so bad he couldn’t fight his urge to stop strangling the neck of the root’s plug with his own ring of tormented muscle – like pressing a finger into a source of heat harder and harder, scorching away at his most sensitive, private nerves where the sun failed to shine. It didn’t help that the ginger jiggled with each spank, sending tickly shock waves from his anus to the far, flowing reaches of his tummy; a the lump in his rear becoming a source of desperation all the same as the deepening redness his bottom was reaching on the outside.

It was a long, tough wait for it all to end. Talek howled and wailed, bawling his eyes out, never fully stopping his enthusiastic bucking even as he tired from the exertion and blinding punitive pain; tears dripping copiously from his snout’s tip to the white tile below. The end came when he was sufficiently gasping between his heavy tears and paddled a bright shade of hearty, hateful red that sizzled hot a paw hovering above it, being taught what certain behaviors and disappointments could land him if he wasn’t a good, thoughtful lad as Shon urged of him. A harsh, stern reminder, above all else – one that left Talek’s hint of baby-fat lining his young bottom quivering in terrible pain even once the spoon had stopped making it wiggle, trembling from the severity. The spoon wouldn’t bruise too badly compared to what he had felt since coming under Shon’s paw, but there was no comparison for the venomous sting and white-hot flame that left him broken as he became over the man’s lap; one foot-claw locked in a raised position, knee bent.

“Now’s the part you cry out your sorries. Come, son. My chest – up you go.”, Talek’s heaving, hiccuping form was taken hold of by the man’s far bigger paws, hoisted up until he could slump his weight up against his father’s torso.

Talek buried his face against his father figure, straddling his grown thigh awkwardly to do so. His tail stretched out in discomfort, treating the outer portions of his bottom to an ember-chasing rub… one that dulled, and turned into the patting of clawed fingertips when even that hurt too much. He couldn’t believe how hot his backside felt, like a damn sunburn! Still, it was nice to have a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, getting the sort of support Rilka was likely off getting. He couldn’t help but notice the room was silent beyond his own cries, so far disconnected from the world during his thrashing that he never had any clue when his sister was taken off to the living room to rest beside the fire.

“Fair is fair, young man. All forgiven, and that means from Rilka too. She’d not risk my lap!”, Shon felt he ought to remind, in case his son was worried about being rejected by his sister for the punishment he wrapped her up in. Talek blubbed and sniffed, catching his breath; his nostrils smelling the scent of his dad’s clothing, finding an odd sort of solace in it.

That was when Talek made a silent gasp, shooting his watery eyes open – feeling such a fool for allowing himself to relax and calm himself as much as he did, spacing out into the warmth of being cuddled. He felt the cupping grasp of a grown paw under his tail take hold of the ginger root’s unpeeled end, sinking his heart into his feet as if he was about to be robbed of what little comfort he had, conned by the fatherly act… only to have his plug of ginger gently eased out from his tail-base without the tiniest scrape or twist. Shon stretched his tailhole mildly with a thumb for nothing more than a brief moment, like he knew exactly how to extract it from experience. The lad’s tired, worn anus, tried to gnash itself shut in the root’s wake, ending up a fair tad redder and looser from the immediate punishment it took, but the clatter of the ginger to the tile below brought great relief that it was done and over with. The egg-timer hadn’t even rung.

“And that, Talek, is me saying ‘thank you’ for taking your first punishment like a proper lad, wearing those letters.”, Shon didn’t sound the least bit bashful about saying, lending a compliment and a little positive reinforcement to the fact his son didn’t holler and carry on, and didn’t need so much as a guiding paw to get him over his lap. Talek must have listened to a wiser voice inside his head, and the man wished for him to continue paying that voice heed.

The boy’s green snout was already red from the strain of being spanked, so there wasn’t much more of a blush the lad could slather across his face. He at least lifted his muzzle from his father’s chest, wanting to look up.

“I’ll… keep tryi-… ”, he tried to put out there, only for his father’s warmer sort of face to shoot clear to something else, eyeing down below.

“Talek!”, brought the boy to flinch, taken aback with a startle.

“These slacks are black, they’ll stain!”, Shon… actually damn near squeaked himself, sounding a similar sort of startled – and finding the cause of it made a tiny piece of Talek curl up on the inside, going as pale as the ginger on the floor.

The little lizard’s length was as flaccid as dormant as could be, but rectal stimulation was stimulation regardless of if he actually enjoyed it to any degree. The curl of finely scaled foreskin at his tip wept with a clear, viscus pre-cum, milked from his immature testicles by one spank-wiggled piece of ginger shoved up his tailpipe, and it had pooled all the same against Shon’s thigh during the swatting.

The two of them were joined together by a strand.

Talek, as he tended, howled in horrific embarrassment. He was going to need a second cuddle.