Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

The Tawse That Refreshes	By : Sushi4Brains Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kakashi/Iruka Views: 2290 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto nor do I make any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Last time:
Iruka laid his hand on Kakashi’s forearm, “It’s not about pain, it’s about control. When I spanked you before, you relinquished control, which is something you’d never do in your everyday life. You’re not crazy, you just discovered another kink you didn’t realize you had, that’s all.”
“Maa…that’s the part that bothers me, although not as much as how you might exploit these new revelations…”
“Why don’t we call it ‘exploring new avenues of pleasure’?”
Kakashi leaned forward whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Iruka--I’m listening…”
Having no doubt sensed Kakashi’s mounting disquiet, Iruka chose that moment to look into his eyes. “You’ve got that faraway look in your eye again,” he said. There was a mischievous spark in Iruka’s eye, and an artful simper on his lips when he said, I’m not sure whether to be insulted because you’re not paying attention, or gratified because you were paying attention.”
“You should be flattered Iruka. Thanks to you and your little scroll, I’ll never be able to think of 'play time' in the same way again.”
It felt good to share a laugh this man, but too many years to count, spent on the fields of battle home and abroad had taught Kakashi one universal truth – every opponent, no matter how skilled had at least one indefensible area of weakness; no matter how experienced or physically imposing, once that weak spot was discovered and decisively struck, it could bring the enemy to his knees more efficiently than a kunai to the gut. The keys to unlocking that area were time, observation and mental flexibility. When facing an enemy, using a clone was the best way to engage them from afar giving him the chance to analyze the fighting style, chakra affinity and which side of the body was used predominately in forward attacks. Eight times out of ten, this was the type of strategy that saved his ass, but there was always an opponent or two that defied the odds and gave him a run for his money.
Win, lose or draw those were the opponents that earned his respect. A soldier from the time he could hold a kunai correctly, kill or be killed was a deeply ingrained mindset. And even when other people assumed he was oblivious to his surroundings, Kakashi was always calculating the quickest and best ways to turn any situation to his advantage.
Analyzing people or things, determining their worth by this standard was a hobby at first, something he came up with when polite conversation and mind numbing staff meetings bored him. This pleasant diversion became a part of him, a habit. Needless to say, it made interactions with fellow shinobi and civilians tricky. The outcome was far less bloody, but the principle of pinpointing weaknesses in others remained the same. The intelligence he gathered in these instances would be used to extract favors in the future, or to amuse himself in the moment.
Then along came Umino Iruka, school teacher and part time mission room worker.
Iruka was the exact opposite of any ninja he’d ever known. The man wore his emotions like a neon yellow overcoat, yet these weaknesses were his strengths.   Children loved him because he was strict, but fair; he spoke his mind respectfully and without fear, which in turn earned the respect of his superiors. And somehow, Iruka became a fixture in his daily thoughts, awakening the desire to protect and or secret him away from all who might become a rival for his affections and attention.
He’d been unsuccessful in finding out what made him tick . . . until now. A few angry exchanges, threats of physical violence and even non-lethal brute force hadn’t been enough to make Iruka back down, but the right combination of words, spoken with a measure of supposed humility was all it took to lower the other man’s defenses. Iruka’s response to what he thought was vulnerability on Kakashi’s part prompted a reassuring squeeze of his forearm, a kindly, knowing smile that reached his dark brown eyes and the pursing of his lips in empathy with Kakashi’s ‘confession.’
Yep, Umino Iruka was a sucker for a sob story.
Having never been the type to waste time on anything or anyone that didn’t challenge him physically or mentally, Kakashi would be bored to tears quickly and cast aside that thing or person without a second thought. That was his area of weakness, a knee-jerk response that was as natural and automatic as breathing.   He couldn’t, wouldn’t change that about himself because it’s what kept him in the land of the living thus far. But there was something about Iruka, something so wild and free beneath the surface of his punctilious nature that made Kakashi feel things he couldn’t explain or understand.
He reminds me of someone I knew in times past, Kakashi thought. Someone who reached into my soul and never let go. Someone who--
“Here,” Iruka said when he snagged the scroll with one finger to drag it over to his side of the table. “Let me have a look at this thing again.”
If this relationship between him and Iruka were to have any chance of succeeding, it would have to be on Kakashi’s terms. Envisioning the possibilities Iruka’s eventual submission would bring, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, a sly smile on his face, the tips of his fingers lightly drumming against the table’s edge.
“Of course,” he said.
For a split second, he felt like the writer and director of an elaborate stage play, having assembled all the components necessary for Iruka’s anagnorisis, he would patiently wait for realization to dawn on the hapless chunnin. But as Iruka carefully went over the scroll before him, checking and rechecking each item like some sort of stern, swarthy Santa Clause, his full lips, mouthing a few words from time to time, those whispered promises of punishment and reward spread themselves before Kakashi like a smorgasbord of carnality; he was practically salivating like a starving man awaiting permission to gorge himself without restraint. The aura of intense concentration swirling around Iruka was also compelling and appealing; gauging how far the ruddy stain would creep past the scar across his nose whenever he stumbled over a scandalously worded section of text was an inexplicably erotic show, but more importantly, through it all, Kakashi saw the perfect way out of his current predicament.
Being this close to Iruka, watching the saccade of his brown eyes as they scoured the scroll also agitated the subconscious need to ready his defenses; it was same intense feeling he had whenever faced an unknown foe. Kakashi’s right hand slowly drifted away from the tabletop to run along his thigh, where it hovered above his shuriken pouch. The thought of forged steel between his fingertips and the twisted euphoria that came with the thought of drawing of first blood caused a transient spike in his breathing even as the words of an old shinobi axiom repeated its familiar refrain between his ears:
Beware the opponent whose weaknesses the eyes perceive, for therein lies strength the mind cannot believe.
It was a truth drilled into his head by his father, one of many; practical advice that served him well in battle, but seated here at Iruka’s kitchen table, it made no sense whatsoever. A shake of the head and a deep cleansing breath forced a mental step back, giving him a chance to reign in his confused thoughts. He knew of course that Iruka wasn’t his enemy, but that knowledge didn’t negate the threats to his physical being represented by the chunnin and his ornate little scroll.
I underestimated him once, he thought, and paid the price for that miscalculation. I guess this thing is gonna boil down to logic versus emotion, so that means I--”
“All right, Iruka said suddenly when he slid the scroll in front of Kakashi again. “As I said earlier, I’m flexible about some things, but those items marked with an asterisk are non-negotiable, meaning they’re not subject to further discussion or modification. However, I am willing to give you a little wiggle room on those items without an asterisk.”
Kakashi’s eye slowly followed a direct path from Iruka’s smiling face along his outstretched arm and then to the parchment dotted with asterisks.
“Umm—pardon me for bringing this up,” Kakashi helpfully pointed out, “but there aren’t many items on this list without asterisks. Not as flexible as you claim Iruka.”
A brown eyebrow lifted slightly, and a smirk revealed a deep dimple in his left cheek. “Therein lays the challenge, wouldn’t you say Kakashi? Now, I’m thinking this might go faster, if we start with something simple, like this one for example…”
As Iruka read aloud one of his rules and the punishment that would be doled out should Kakashi fail to accomplish his assigned task, he thought, such a fascinating contradiction you are Iruka; the words coming out of your mouth are so perverse, yet you manage to hold yourself with an air of technical impassiveness. Remarkable --however, your autonomic responses are relaying an entirely different tale.
Right on cue, another warm blush fanned out over Iruka’s cheek, prompting a throaty chuckle from Kakashi. “No offense Iruka, but this scroll thing reads like a regular mission assignment. You can’t expect me to take this seriously, can you?”
Iruka dipped his chin and with a sideways glance, he smiled and said, “This was my first time doing something like this, so I drew on what I knew. But, if you insist in viewing this as a mission, let’s –“
“I insist, however,” Kakashi said as he pushed the scroll away from him. “Despite your best efforts, the mission’s objective is incomplete.” Beginning with his index finger, Kakashi ticked off his observations.   “You've given me a vague idea of who my client is and what he wants. You even made me aware of when and where to perform the tasks the client desires, yet you failed to provide the ‘why.’ That’s unacceptable Iruka.”
He gave the puzzled man a few moments to let that profound truth sink in.
“I’d certainly hate to fail a mission due to some,” his eye drifted over Iruka slowly “desk clerk’s oversight.” That got him--now to reel in him in. “Due to the appalling lack of information, I have valid grounds to decline this mission.” That blush of his is almost crimson; this ought to push him right over the edge. “Oh, and one more thing; unless I overlooked it, this ‘mission’ isn’t ranked, so how can you be sure you’ve selected the best candidate for the job?”
Iruka slyly smiled and said, “Of all the shinobi in this village, trust me Hatake-san; you’re the best suited and most deserving. But since you’re determined to make this a mission, I’ll play along—for now. Straightening in his seat, his head held high and an official demeanor firmly in place, he said, “According to regulations, and I quote: ‘All missions above ‘B-rank’ are not to be marked on the scroll itself. Given the sensitive nature of the assignment contained therein, duly authorized central dispatch personnel are required to provide an encoded oral recitation of pertinent background information to the jounin who accepts the mission. Upon receipt of the mission, said shinobi will sign off on the scroll in ink and with a chakra enhanced thumbprint,’ end quote. Do you have any impediments, either physical or mental, which would preclude you from accepting this mission shinobi-san?”
“No, Umino-san.”
“The regulation as read, was it understandable to you Hatake-san?”
I’ve known this regulation since I was a genin. “Yes, Umino-san, I understand.”
Iruka reached for the scroll and after a few minutes scrutiny, he snatched a red pen from his shuriken pouch adding these notes, Need to address superiority complex and the tendency to flee. Pushing the parchment before Kakashi again, he sighed, “Your client, that would be me, has a lengthy background, so I’ll just give you the condensed version --”
“On the contrary Umino-san,” propping his elbow on the table, an upturned palm made the ideal resting place for Kakashi’s chin. “I’m a huge fan of long stories, especially the ones that make duly authorized personnel blush like you’re doing right now.”
“You’re stalling,” he snarked, “guess that’s something else we’ll need to work on. Pay attention then, you might be surprised to learn how much we have in common.”
Shrugging off his flak jacket Iruka began, “Orphaned after the Nine-Tails attack, I was one of the more fortunate children. The Morino family took me in and spared me the indignity of living in an overcrowded state ward home. They gave me sustenance and shelter, for which I was and continue to be grateful for; but the one thing I desperately needed, they were ill-equipped to provide.”
“What was that pray tell?”
“I needed acknowledgement Kakashi—not as an object of pity, or a collateral damage statistic, but as an individual.”
Kakashi nodded his head in embittered understanding; after his father’s fall from grace, he too craved recognition in his own right, as a shinobi and as an identity separate from his father’s shame. Shutting himself away from the soulless eyes of those who offered pity, their meaningless words of sympathy like dust in his mouth, he turned to the written word for comfort. Books filled with regulations, rules and training manuals; immutable logic, not variable emotions were his imaginary playmates in that lonely world of preadolescence.
Iruka’s voice took on a brittle tone when he continued, “Back then, I was rather hempy and I started pulling pranks to get attention. If I do say so myself, I was damn good at it. Nine times out of ten, I got away with my little capers because I knew how to respond in an acceptable way when or if I got caught. A chastened expression and the specious promise of better behavior were the secrets to my success.” The bright smile dimmed a bit when he said, “I got sloppy one day and Morino Ibiki caught me just as I was about to set off some smoke bombs in the jounin barracks.”
Rising to clear the table was Iruka’s effectual and polite way to turn his back on Kakashi; preparing another pot of tea gave his nervous hands something to fiddle with. “There would be no meaningless lectures, no ear pulling, not even a slap upside my head. Ibiki simply hauled me over his knee, and thoroughly roasted my bottom.”
Kakashi smiled deviously thinking, you deserved it, you little stinker.
Iruka gave a hollow chuckle. “No one had ever done that before. I distinctly remember how embarrassed and humiliated I felt. It made me angry too because he caught me off-guard and unable to defend myself.”
As a few tealeaves swirled around in the boiling water, Iruka off-handedly remarked, “Correct me if I’m wrong Kakashi, but I imagine you felt the same way when I spanked you.” Without bothering to turn away from his busy work, Iruka could feel Kakashi’s broad shoulders stiffen. “Anyway, I tried to hide from Ibiki for an entire week afterwards, but considering that we shared the same tiny living space, it wasn’t practical.”
“Yeah,” Kakashi awkwardly laughed, “that was rather juvenile.” It would be lot funnier if I hadn’t done something similar. Wait a minute…he mentioned the Morino family. The only family with that surname spawned – nah, I must have heard him wrong.
“Iruka, hang on a minute. Are you telling me that Ibiki Morino, the head of our Torture and Interrogation Unit was the one responsible for training you as a sadist?”
“I’m no sadist, silly. But Ibiki was responsible for my association of spanking with an expression of concern for another person. He disciplined me because he felt I was wasting my time and talent; as far as he was concerned, the best way to address the motives underneath my behavior, was to blister my behind.”
“I completely understand how that can alter one’s outlook on life.   And with Ibiki as your mentor, now I understand a few other things as well.” Kakashi slumped forward, his forearms flat against the table, his fingers intertwined. “I wracked my brain for three days wondering where I’d seen that chakra block and immobilization seal used before. That’s one of Ibiki’s favorite moves to get information from an enemy or during a psych evaluation –“
“He wasn’t a mentor, but he did teach me that jutsu. Look, we’re veering off course here Kakashi--”
“A slight deviation, I assure you, but you‘ve aroused my curiosity.” Kakashi’s tone and demeanor suddenly turned nasty. “Tell me Iruka, what else did you learn from Ibiki?”
Iruka rolled his eyes and huffed, “Nothing classified, if that’s what you mean. I just picked up some basic principles of kinesics from him, as a way to determine what a person is thinking before they act. It’s a beneficial skill that has applications on the battlefield, in the mission room and in the classroom. I’m not as talented as he is, but I manage.”
“I see.” No wonder it seemed as if he could read my thoughts. “Thanks for indulging my inquisitiveness; please go on with your tale of ‘Iruka the miscreant’.   Did Ibiki ever spank you after that time?”
“Well, that’s a bit harder to answer with a simple yes or no. No, as I was growing up in their household he never spanked me for misbehaving after that.” Returning to the table with two mugs, Iruka snickered, “The episode with Ibiki couldn’t have happened at a worse time for me though; I was right on the cusp of puberty when my thoughts centered on getting attention, getting laid, and breathing. The fire he ignited in my bottom lingered for days afterward, provoking the same two reactions: a warm tingly sensation in my stomach, and an uncomfortable tent in my pants. I was pleasantly disconcerted at the time and I seriously started to think something was wrong with me.”
Kakashi sipped at his tea thinking, Yep, I understand that one too.
“Believe me Kakashi, there was nothing remotely sexual about my first spanking; as I recall, Ibiki didn’t even bare my bottom. He didn’t need to; you’ve seen those ham shanks that pass for his hands haven’t you?”
“Hard to miss ‘em,” he said.
“So you can imagine how much it hurt. I remember hating him for what he did to me. Still, finding myself unceremoniously draped over a firm lap, struggling to get away from the heavy hand warming my bottom comforted me somehow. I was too ashamed to discuss this with anyone else, and too curious to keep it to myself, so I confronted him. Turns out, that was the best decision of my young life. Ibiki was the closest thing I knew of to a walking encyclopedia of human psychology, even back then. When he assured me I wasn’t crazy, I believed him.”
Silence, appropriate and comfortable lingered between them.
“Ibiki was wrong about one thing however,” Iruka finally said. “He chalked up my feelings to the tidal wave of hormones crashing against my brain; ‘a phase’ he said, that would pass with maturity.”
“Obviously it didn’t.” Kakashi nervously cleared his throat, “So, is this,” he pointed to the scroll, “something you do in all your relationships?”
“No, you have the distinction of being the first one. Over the years, I’ve been involved in situations that allowed me to indulge my fascination, both as a spankee and a spanker. I truly enjoyed the former, but I’ve come to prefer the latter, probably because I understand how liberating and empowering the experience is. What can I say, I’m a giver.”
Hmm…Kakashi thought, if I play this just right, it won’t be long before you’re in your proper place, and liking it.
Iruka stopped fiddling with his tea cup to say, “It’s taken me almost eleven years to finally realize that I need a relationship with someone who understands and appreciates this particular desire of mine; someone with whom I can share my life, not just a one night adventure. So, with you, I decided to make my intentions clear from the start.”
“You’re speculating that I understand this -- peculiarity of yours.”
“And you’re stalling -- again.”
“Curiosity -- stalling, I see how you might confuse the two."
Placing his mug in the middle of a seam in the table, Iruka took a deep breath before continuing. “As to the ‘yes’ part of your question, once I reached that point in life where I could live on my own, Ibiki did spank me on occasion, but for an entirely different reason.” Wrapping his hands around the still steaming mug of tea, he offered, “As you’ve probably noticed, I have a ‘thing’ about keeping my surroundings neat and orderly. I’ve been this way all my life , but when I became a shinobi, this ‘thing’ evolved into a way of having or exercising a semblance of control – you know how it is, as a cat’s paw for the village, we don’t have much say over when and where we go and what we’re expected to do.”
How well did Kakashi know that.
“At any rate, when my desire for order became excessive due to the stresses of shinobi life, I realized that it had the potential of becoming a serious problem, one that might interfere with my duties in the field, so I went to talk with Ibiki. I trusted him to help me find a way to deal with this situation before it got too far out of hand. He’d been aware of my 'problem' since I was a young kid, but never said anything because he hoped shinobi life would beat it out of me – it didn’t, it just made the problem more pronounced. By acknowledging the situation and talking about it, it helped somewhat, but it still didn’t eradicate the problem. This behavior was something I did unconsciously, so his solution was the same as it had been with the jounin barracks situation. Whenever I felt like I was losing control over this part of my life, Ibiki thought if I could associate it with something painful, it might break the cycle of my compulsion.”
A sip of tea quenched his suddenly dry throat. “Mind you, I wouldn’t recommend that form of ‘treatment’ for everyone with obsessive compulsive tendencies; it’s archaic and humiliating, but for me, it worked. So, whenever I felt myself going overboard I would go to him, talk it over and then submit myself to a round of ‘treatment’ across his knee. Trust me, after a few intense sessions with him and a hairbrush, the incidences of my excessiveness became fewer and farther in between.”
Folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head, Kakashi was lost in his own world; images of the smooth, firm and rounded flesh of Iruka’s bottom being warmed to a pink, and then a violent red as he struggled to free himself from Ibiki’s firm grasp and the unerring hard strikes of the hairbrush were making him squirm in his seat. He longed to stroke himself as that image kept replaying in his mind’s eye. Knowing Iruka would disapprove of such a thing made it harder to resist the urge.
“My sessions with Ibiki decreased in their frequency from once a month to once every three months and I was really proud of my progress – until I asked for a transfer to the Academy as a teaching assistant. I figured being around the messes that pre-genin make would help me channel that part of my personality into a more constructive outlet.”
Shaking his head sadly he admitted, “I did and I do enjoy working with Konoha’s future shinobi, but as you might imagine, the pay for an instructors isn’t that much. I was able to supplement my income by working in the mission’s room from time to time. But between the Academy and the mission desk, I was surrounded by clutter which fed into my ‘thing’ and I was worse off than I’d been before. On the plus side, I was able to straighten out the filing system in the mission room and streamline the way reports are prioritized, but I was miserable and back to Ibiki I ran.”
Now, all Kakashi could see was Iruka standing with his nose pressed in the corner of a room, his pants and undershorts pooled around his ankles, his bottom, red as a tomato and tender to the touch.
“I would seek him out for proactive treatment,”’ Iruka went on to say, “whenever the stress pushed me toward a debilitating point. It’s been a few years now since my last session with Ibiki I’m happy to say. Kakashi, are you listening to me?”
“Clutter,” Kakashi mumbled. “Mission room, treatment, hairbrush, corner time . . .”
“What?”
Shaking his head, as if to clear his mind, Kakashi looked up into those angry brown eyes and said, “What I meant was, how did his being your, umm, I don’t know, psychoanalyst, affect your relationship with him?”
“Well, maybe he saw it as a public service,” he said with a laugh, “but our relationship is much the same as it’s always been.”
“So, no umm, sexual –”
“Don’t be ridiculous Kakashi! Ibiki’s straighter than a ruler, and he’s like an older brother to me. But I see in you some of the same traits I saw in myself back then and I --”
“Wait a minute! Do you seriously believe you’d be doing the village a service if you straightened me out? What am I, some sort of project to you?”
“Of course not, Kakashi; it would be my pleasure to smooth away some of your rough edges.”
“What makes you think I need to be ‘fixed’ or smoothed out? Maybe I like the way I am and I --”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have come back after the first time I paddled you.”
“I just wanted to return your sleep pants and give you a piece of my mind while I was at it, that’s all.”
All right, if you insist. I’ve come a long way since then and my compulsion for orderliness has been largely confined to my desk in the mission room and the inside of my home --”
“So that’s why most of the things with asterisks have to do with housekeeping duties, am I right?”
“I have to live here Kakashi and I don’t want to feel uncomfortable in my own house, so yeah, I do have some guidelines that revolve around --”
"You want me to be your maid, is that it?” Provoking Iruka was child’s play. I wonder how long it will take before he explodes. “Would you have me traipse around here in some frilly little costume, keeping your house neat and tidy, and if I should fail to dust the lintels sufficiently, would it give you a reason, or should I say, the right to take me over your knee pull down my ruffled undergarments and spank me?”
“Oh good grief Kakashi, that Icha Icha stuff is rotting your brain. If I wanted to go the frilly clothes route, I would have my choice of willing submissive women to pick from and I would have done that ages ago.” Iruka threw his arm over the back the chair and let his eyes wander over Kakashi’s frame from head to toe. “Although, using frilly clothing as a means to discipline you probably wouldn’t be effective; you might enjoy it far too much.”
“Hn, that’s doubtful.”
“Well, now that you know who your client is, and you’ve been briefed on the mission’s parameters, let’s see if we can wrap this up before midnight, shall we?”
Pushing the scroll closer to Iruka with a smile, Kakashi said, “I have one more question before we ‘wrap things up.’ Tell me; are you a betting man Iruka?”
TBC . . .
NOTES:
Simper means: to smile in a silly, self-conscious way.
Hempy means: mischievous; often in trouble for mischief.
Anagnorisis: a critical moment of recognition or discovery by the protagonist of the identity of his own character or the nature of his own predicament which leads to the resolution of the plot.
Cat’s paw: a person used to serve the purposes of another; tool.
Kinesics: the study of body movements, gestures, facial expressions and the like, as a means of communication.
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Tawse That Refreshes