Hide the Peanut Butter -- It's About to Get Weird @anonheart - Tumblr Blog

I’m just gonna leave this here, without context, unexplained

I honesly laughed at this so hard tears rose in my eyes!

SECONLY, tell me who DARES disrespect our language? I shall fight besides you, just point my water gun to right direction!

#no other reason to reblog this but how hilarious it was!#the cut actually sounds like it's intentional #xDDDD

grumkle-mumkle

Lessons and Warnings

This is for the wonderful @anonheart! Darling, you continue to inspire and motivate me to give that good evil Ford content. So this is for you. 💖 (I’m also going to tag @bratnsfw because this is the Evil Twin Au and I think they’d like to see it.)

Stanford had always thought himself fair and firm master. He provided the basic necessities to his pet- food, water, and shelter. Praises and scolding were doled out when the situation called for it. And he made sure that his pet had at least a blanket to sleep on at night. He wasn’t cruel or unfair- provided that Stanley stayed in line and remembered his place in their home. And Stanford prided himself on having a set of rules that were straightforward and did not allow any bending. There were three main rules that Stanley was expected to follow.

First was that pleasing his master came above anything else in Stanley’s life. His master’s happiness came first, no matter the cost. Second was that Stanley’s attention or thoughts be on nothing but his master and being the best pet he could be. Nothing else mattered in this life- not anymore. Stanley was nothing more than a common house pet, living without worry or cares. And last but most importantly was that he never, ever set foot outside the house. In Stanford’s mind, these were all very simple rules to follow; easily done by even the most obtuse of men.

Yet despite this common knowledge, Stanford still found himself having to discipline his pet for misbehaving.

Letting out a small sigh, he looks down at the man cowering on his feet. He feels a twinge of disgust settle in his chest, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. Stanley was smart to be sniveling and groveling at his feet, taking a hold of his ankle while pleads of forgiveness left his throat.

But today was different. Stanley had disobeyed the most important rule and ruined everything.

Stanley had left the cabin. Not for long but long enough for Stanford to find him and drag him back with a white knuckled grip in his hair.

“I’m sorry, please Stanford- I mean master, please,” Stanley said between his thick sobs, his voice cracking and breaking on every other word in a way that wasn’t very attractive. “Have mercy master.”

Now Stanford considered staying silent to watch his pet slowly fall apart at the thought of what his punishment would be for his latest slight. There was almost a satisfying way that Stanley’s shoulders would shake, his neck sinking between them as his forehead pressed against the tip of his boot in an act of submission. His chest heaved like he had just ran a hundred miles and Stanford could almost imagine the way his heart pumped, almost as fast as a hummingbirds. His fingers would grip at the hem of his slacks, digging desperately into the material and almost catching skin in his attempt to show how sorry he really was.

But he was not in the mood for cruelty, at least not today.

“You’ve disappointed me Stanley.” He finally replies after a few minutes.

Stanley’s shoulders slump in relief and he starts to apologize again, but Stanford will hear no more of it. He uses the tip of his dress shoe to push the let’s head up, letting it slide down his face and come to rest under Stanley’s chin. The eyes that look up at him fearfully are red and swollen slightly, the skin around it becoming puffy and sticky with drying tears. Stanford tilts his head, his eyes narrowing just a tad as he thinks of his next move.

He could play this one of two ways. He could be kind and merciful; taking Stanley into his arms and murmuring words of forgiveness into his hair. They would move on as if nothing had happened. Stanley would behave like he never had before, trying to avoid another punishment.

Or he could punish Stanley in the way he saw fit. It would hurt and Stanford would not hold back, but a lesson would be learned. Stanley would cry and scream in pain and fear, but no one would come to his rescue. He would take his punishment like a good boy. They would do this and things would get better in time.

Though as the silence stretched between them, they both knew what his next move would be.

Stanford’s foot moves and Stanley’s head falls to the floor with a loud smack.

“Not a word out of you,” He warns, turning around and walking down the hall. “Or it will be much worse.”

It isn’t long until he hears the sounds of Stanley’s knees hitting the wooden floor behind him. Good. He wouldn’t even need to tell his pet to follow. Their walk to the bedroom is silent, laying heavy in the air and making Stanford smile. It seemed like this would be easier than he expected.

Stanford opened the door to the bedroom, letting Stanley crawl in ahead of him and locking the door when they are both inside. Pride and affection swells in his chest when the other assumes the position without being asked. Stanley’s forehead touches his knees and his back arches beautifully, the muscle straining under his unblemished skin. He would never scar his pet, even when the thought crossed his mind. Bruises faded after the anger had passed, but scars remained the same. And even if Stanley doubted it, Stanford could never be angry at his twin for long.

Stanford made his way over to his dresser and opened it, pulling out a leather case. The case itself is thick and about as long as a yardstick, smooth and cold to the touch. He flips the golden lock up and opens the top, revealing his punishment of choice.

A wooden rod.

He lifts it from its box, running his fingers over the smooth, shiny surface. It’s a dark chestnut color, with a black handle at the end and a golden design at the tip. He lifts his arm, bringing it down swiftly and feeling a shiver run down his spine at the sound. He’d designed it himself, spending hours on making sure it would bruise, but not seriously injure when in use. Theres a similar wooden block that sits in the case and he plucks it up, his thumb rubbing over the teethmarks that indented the surface. He wouldn’t want Stanley biting his tongue during the punishment.

Walking back over to his twin, he crouched down and moved the wooden piece to press against Stanley’s lips.

“Bite down.” Stanford orders.

Stanley does so without complaint, his jaw going tight around in and flexing in what Stanford could only assume was nervousness. There’s also a sharp panting sound that escapes Stanley’s nostrils, making them flare and Stanford allows himself one act of comfort and kindness towards his pet.

“It will be over soon.” He murmured, lifting a hand to run over Stanley’s hair.

The action seems to work because Stanley’s body relaxes just a bit and he nods. Stanford smiles at that and stands, gripping the rod tight before he lifts his arm.

“You’ve broken one of our rules.”

The sound of the rod hitting Stanley’s skin is music to Stanford’s ears. It’s almost like a whistle as the rod travels through the air, sharp and clear before the resounding smack is heard throughout the room. Stanley makes a pitiful sound, his back arching as pain blooms in the area that’s been hit. Stanford can see the line that forms on Stanley’s skin almost instantly, red and stretching across his back. It’s beautiful.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Stanford doesn’t hold back or reign in his strength as he punishes Stanley. Each mark is intentional and rightfully earned, Stanley knows this. Each scolding was one that was neccesary for Stanley to know that he’d done wrong. The lines start to clump together and turn into dark bruises, spanning the length of Stanley’s back and ass over time. Much to his delight, Stanley manages to keep in most of his noises at first.

“What are we on, pet? Twenty? Or is it thirty?”

Stanley let out a broken sob, nodding when he repeats the word thirty. Normally this would be it, but Stanley had ran away from him. Stanley wanted to leave him. He needed to learn his place and Stanford would go up to a hundred if he needed to.

“Thirty more,” Stanford said over his pet’s sobbing. “And then it will be over.”

Stanley let out a short cry of horror, his body shaking anew. Thirty more? His back was on fire and he was sure that he’d die if he had to endure one more strike from the rod. But Stanford doesn’t seem to notice. He simply lifts his arm again and the pain continued.

When Stanford gets to fifty three, Stanley collapses and a feeling of panic takes over the man for a moment. He drops the rod, kneeling down and pushing the hair from his pet’s neck to check his pulse. He sighs in relief when he found it, quick and hard under his fingertips. He was alive. He’d just fainted.

“That’s enough for now, I think.” He said, lifting his poor pet into his arms.

Yes, it would be enough. Stanley had learned his lesson.

When Stanley regains consciousness, there’s warmth on his back and rear. It soothes the ache that radiated over the area and he whimpers low in his throat. From what he could tell, it was a heating pad, one that Stanford used on him after a particularly rough punishment. A hand suddenly appears, pressed against his cheek and the thumb rubbing small circles on his skin.

“Master…?” He asked, the name slipping out without a second thought. His voice is soft and weak, his throat aching as he forced them out. “What-”

Stanford hushes him and Stanley falls quiet almost instantly.

“Hush, darling. It’s over now,” Stanford says softly. “You are forgiven.”

There’s something in his tone that makes Stanley relax back into the blankets and he nearly sobs.

“Thank you master.” He whispered in a shaky way, too tired to cry.

Stanford just rubs his cheek, silent and warm and there. There’s a prick of what feels like a needle and Stanley starts to feel sluggish, his senses dulling and his vision wavering, but Stanford whispers to him the whole time. Don’t worry, this was for the best. You can’t run away from me now, can you? I still love you, my perfect pet. It’s all the same. It’s comforting and frightening at the same time, but Stanley doesn’t fight as he slowly falls back into sleeps embrace. The message had been clear as day.

He was Stanford’s and he always would be.

Stanford watched his brother as he fell asleep again, a soft smile on his face. He leant in, kissing his forehead gently and stood. He’d let him rest for now. Picking up the first aid kit and a burlap sack, he left the room.

And later in the day, when he heard the horrified screaming, Stanford smiled. He’d made his point. Stanley would never run away from him ever again.

Never.