{"sf1_id":2219652,"sf2_id":"rn6Q9kGm","title":"Dad's Belt","author":"Corran Orreaux","words":1436,"posted_at":"2025-01-26T16:50:59.000Z","tags":["Brothers","Discipline","Gay","Horse","Implied Incest","Punishment","Short Story","Spanking","belt"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2219652-dad-s-belt","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/rn6Q9kGm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/65/17/65175d48-f2c7-413f-8831-d26bec0ab59d","description":"Turner comes home past curfew to find his brother equipped with more than a lecture.  \n  \nAuthor's Note: Just a lil' fetish story I cooked up. Hope you enjoy it!","content":"Turner hated getting spanked.\n\n  \nThat was obvious. It was always obvious. Brat yowled like a husky when put over the knee. You’d  \nthink he’d at least try to avoid it before it happened, an ounce of prevention after all, but when Turner’s  \ncar pulled in at a few hours past midnight, it was clear he needed a pound of cure.\n\n  \nGriff rocked back and forth on a dimly lit porch, a cigarette hanging off his lip. His chair squeaked  \nsoftly, groaning at every lurch. He’d been there a while—as long as Turner was past curfew. He  \ncouldn’t complain, though. It was a beautiful night. Fireflies buzzed around the chill air, covering the  \nground with tiny yellowish-green blips. Griff’s father used to say the stars all up in the sky grew  \nconcerned about folk down on earth. _“How are they gonna see anything at night?”_ They wondered,  \nunaware we had fire. _\"I know!”_ One perked up. _“We should send some lil’ guys down there to light  \ntheir way!”_\n\n  \nOne of those lil’ guys landed on the small old wicker table next to him—atop a large leather belt. Griff  \nsnorted, blew smoke out his nostrils, and the bug flew off.\n\n  \nTurner’s car rolled up a few minutes later. High beams came down the gravel road and hit Griff like  \nstage lights for a performance.\n\n  \nGriff waved as the car parked in front of the porch. He couldn’t see through the black-tinted windshield  \nof Turner’s fiesta, but he imagined his brother making the face. The face he always made when he was  \nbuzzed on wine coolers and about to get his hide tanned into next week, same face Griff used to make  \nwhen he was a 20-something coming home late to dad smoking on the porch.\n\n  \nThe driver’s door opened, and Turner climbed out stone-faced. Kid perfected it—though it took him a  \nwhile. It wasn’t that long ago he’d walk up to Griff with eyes as guilty as sin and a propensity to  \nmumble when asked where he’d been. Turner was a handsome guy, a trait their family seemed blessed  \nwith. He had soft chestnut fur with a long black mane. A dab of white set between his brown eyes like  \nGod pressed a thumb there. They looked a lot alike—only Griff’s fur was a bit darker, his muscles  \nlarger, and he had a white line that trailed down his face opposed to a blotch.\n\n  \nThe steps of the porch creaked as Turner climbed them. Everything squeaked around here! They really  \noutta take a weekend and fix things up.\n\n  \n“Hey, bro!” Turner smiled as he made for the door.\n\n  \n“Sorry, I’m late—homework, y’know? Damn, I’m worn out!”\n\n  \nHe opened the screen, but Griff raised his leg and snapped it shut with a shoe.  \n“I don’t think you need whiskey to do your homework,” Griff sniffed a few times. The stench of  \nalcohol was faint, but it was there.\n\n  \nTurner frowned. “It’s rum—and it ain’t like I did anything wrong! I’m of age!”\n\n  \n“To drink? Sure. To ignore your brother’s rules? You’ll never be old enough as long as you live here.”  \nGriff pinched the cigarette between his fingers and smothered it on a glass ashtray next to the belt.  \n“You know how this goes, kid.”\n\n  \n“Come on, you’re not even that much older than me!” Turner exclaimed.\n\n  \n“Old enough.”\n\n  \nThe younger man groaned, then perked up when he caught sight of the belt curled up on the table.  \n“Dad’s belt? Are you fucking serious?!”\n\n  \n“Yeah, go ahead, keep swearing and shouting—you need a lot of dirt to dig a grave.”\n\n  \nTurner scowled and ran his hands through his mane.“Are you seriously gonna use the belt this time?” he asked, avoiding his older brother’s gaze.\n\n  \n“That depends on you.”\n\n  \nWith one last sigh, Turner undid his buckle and dropped his jeans.  \n“Everything off?”\n\n  \n“Eyup.”\n\n  \nTo his credit, kid never wasted time. He had his clothes off and folded by the front door in under a  \nminute. The only thing he kept on were his boxer briefs—a token attempt at modesty.\n\n  \n_Least he has a little shame._\n\n  \nGriff leaned back, and Turner wordlessly lowered himself over the knee. The older horse patted his  \nbrother’s back. Firm muscle, though a bit leaner than Griff himself—kid certainly kept an impressive  \nbuild.\n\n  \n“Comfortable? Nothing hurt that ain’t supposed to yet?”\n\n  \nTurner shifted a bit, resting his palms flat on the floor.\n\n  \n“Would you be comfortable like this?”\n\n  \nThe larger horse rolled his eyes. “Are you relatively comfortable, given the situation?”\n\n  \n“Sure.”\n\n  \nGriff grabbed Turner’s waistband and yanked his undies down. The younger man’s bottom was a good  \nmix of firm and fat. Toned with a decent bubble. Griff felt a soft twitch in his pants and ignored it. It  \nwas just a strange bodily reaction that happened from time to time.\n\n  \n“You know I don’t like doing this.” Griff raised his hand and brought it down on Turner’s left cheek.  \nTurner barely reacted to the first smack beyond a soft exhale.\n\n  \n“Whatever.”\n\n  \nGriff, ignoring the attitude, swatted the right cheek.\n\n  \n“I was pulling the same stuff your age—you remember. Dad would sit out on this porch and smack my  \nrear till daylight.”\n\n  \n“Yeah, I know.”\n\n  \n“Then you know I’m glad he did,” he went a bit harder now, a bit faster, alternating cheeks in a rhythm  \nthat’d slowly bring the heat up to bearable but uncomfortable.\n\n  \n“It helped make me the man I am—”\n\n  \n“Christ, save it, bro! I don’t need some folksy justification for your fetish!”\n\n  \nGriff blinked.\n\n  \n“I...sorry?”\n\n  \nTurner turned his head to look his brother in the eye.\n\n  \n“I said I don’t need you to bullshit me!”\n\n  \nKid was shouting now—his voice echoing off into the valley.\n\n  \n“Just admit it gets you off! You don’t need to mythologize this shit, I don’t!”\n\n  \nA burning rage built up in Griff. How dare he!? How dare his own fucking brother talk to him like that!  \nAccuse him of being some freak! Griff grabbed the belt, looped it over, and raised it high.  \nCalm down; He’s just lashing out.\n\n  \nGriff sighed and lowered the belt. He just needed a moment, a few seconds, then he could explain  \nthings properly. This wasn’t sexual. This wasn’t weird. It was sacred! Honorable discipline molding a  \nman into something greater.\n\n  \n“Turner, listen—”\n\n  \n“Go find a guy at the college if you wanna touch a man’s ass that badly!”\n\n  \nThe belt came down hard for that one.\n\n  \nTurner hissed, clenching his bottom to fight off the pain.\n\n  \n“This worth it?” His brother asked as he raised the belt for another blow.\n\n  \n“It felt pretty worth it in the moment.”\n\n  \n“Does it now?”\n\n  \n“Well-GAH FUCK!” Turner howled. The belt slammed down hard on his sit-spots, sending ripples of  \npain through the sensitive flesh.\n\n  \n“Still cursing? You’re gonna spend all night here.”\n\n  \nTurner grit his teeth. The belt came down across the center of his rear, mercifully, but the pain from the  \nlast blow threw him off. Every strike really started to hurt, and he found it difficult to smart talk while  \nhis ass disintegrated under burning lines of fire.\n\n  \nGriff nodded to himself in satisfaction—with all of Turner’s smart-ass comments, he was beginning to  \nworry he was losing his edge. The belt always worked through. He looked down at Turner’s ass. Lines  \nof dark pink—bordering on red—gave his rear an almost zebra-esque quality. Griff set the belt down a  \nmoment. He trailed his fingers over his brother’s bottom, rubbing light, small circles into his firm  \ncheeks.\n\n  \n“You apologize right now, and we can end this with chores.” Griff slowly spread out his fingers till his  \nopen palm rested on Turner’s bottom. He stroked it, occasionally letting a finger get a bit too close to  \nactually slipping between Turner’s cheeks. He wouldn’t do that, of course, they were brothers! He was  \njust doing what big brothers are supposed to do: giving the fool a shot at doing the right thing.  \nYeah, what else would he be doing?\n\n  \nGriff felt Turner’s cock poke against his leg. It was hard to miss, the both of them being equine. It was  \na natural bodily reaction, though, nothing more.  \nTurner was silent for a long moment. Griff’s grin faltered, suddenly afraid his brother would actually  \ndo the right thing.\n\n  \n“Fuck off!”\n\n  \nGriff felt Turner’s cock poke into his leg again and again. Idiot was probably clenching his ass,  \nattempting to fight off the sting before his spanking resumed. The pre-cum Turner rubbed off onto his  \nthigh was also nothing to worry about—another bodily reaction he had no control over.\n\n  \nTurner hated getting spanked, after all."}