"What did I tell you?" His fingers tighten; maybe it's unfair, because he hadn't done anything about it a few seconds ago. But if he wants to be arbitrary about this he supposes that Hobbes will just have to take it.

Or end it. Somehow he doesn't think that's likely, though.

"Shut up," he growls, and when the palm of his hand connects with Tom's ass it's carefully aimed, slapping the stripes that his belt has left. It's different than a whipping; that had been for his own pleasure and this is about discipline.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it too.