Disclaimer: This story contains corporal punishment / spanking of a young adult

This story has been Gift-Wrapped and dedicated to FluffPuffNuff. I sincerely hope you enjoy the read.

Trials of an Era: 2 - Room With A View
7-Pistol

Hohenheim seated himself adjacent the entrance to their commonplace German apartment. It was near subsidized housing, but that was the state of things with the impending war. If you were of greater finance, you lived in districts where there was less violence, but all prying eyes were trained on you. Curious as to how you would deal with the brutality and eager to get what you had. Small crime was rampant, and it was burglary, looting, and small street crime operated by unskilled criminals, and it brought death. People were scared, and people were abandoned, by their government, and the cosanity of the world.

Germany was unsafe, and sitting cross-legged in a simple wooden chair watching his front door Hohenheim had to be frank with himself and wonder if he wasn't doing himself and Edward a disservice by not trying to flee before things grew worse. It was hard to know for sure if they would, but it certainly did not appear as if they were growing better, and of course there was this.

The sudden increase of Ed's adolescent demand for independence and adult rights he had not earned. Vague answers, snippy attitude, bullheaded deafened ears to advice and direction. Of course, Hohenheim was the parent, or at the very least the guardian, and he was allowing them to reside in a rather poor section of town, where Ed was exposed to what he would call riff-raff. Undoubtedly some of that had to have rubbed off on the boy, but he expected more from his son, and he knew Ed was capable of more. In fact, that was the most concerning angle to Edward's recent behavior. That Edward knew better, and instead seemed to be willfully pressing issues he knew were dangerous to them both.

As a rational parent, as a parent who would prefer to be more of a teacher than an oppressor, what do you do when you have a child seeking an oppressor? It felt uncomfortably like allowing Edward to again have his way if Hohenheim changed his approach simply to suit the boy's fancy, even if that was a self-destructive one. So at the core of things Hohenheim felt confused, and unable to clarify what type of parent Ed was turning him into. Unable to rank his decided course of action as either good or bad parenting, he had decided to simply confront the boy and discuss it all.

That was this morning. Three hours ago, when Edward was supposed to be home learning to read German. Their greatest risk was the boy's activity in Germany without any papers, so they had obtained them illegally. Edward now had counterfeit papers to identify himself, but because it was safer for Ed to purchase them from the contact, as an easily forgettable youth, they had ended up with a useless product. The papers looked appropriate but Ed's weight and age were unrealistic. His papers identified him as a twenty-four year old two hundred pound man, and Edward was lucky if he was managing one thirty, and didn't look a day over eighteen. Hohenheim had been disappointed and severely agitated they had been tricked when Ed handed over his newly purchase papers. Slipping into a dark alley, and conducting such a risky transaction had been exhilarating for Ed, and afterward he was full of color and excitement. However, being unable to read German, he was unaware of how badly the were had, until Hohenheim explained it.

This left them still without proper papers for the boy, and a new agreement Edward would work harder at learning to read the language he despised. This morning Ed had agreed to stay home and do so, since there was no place the boy needed to be, and nothing he actually needed to do. An illiterate trade-less young man, now that Edward had lost alchemy, was a dime a dozen in Germany, and since Hohenheim did not want Ed on the street trying to sell print, or cleaning chimneys, he kept him home. He had more than enough saved to support them, but Ed was restless and disagreeable with this decision. He was a free spirit in Amestris, and wanted to continue living, and said he felt stuffed into a German coffin he couldn't break free of.

This was frightfully accurate, but for the time, also their reality, and Hohenheim was growing closer and closer to understanding he was going to need to become the anchor Edward appeared to so desperately need. So he sat himself before the door and waited, when Edward came home, they would have a discussion, and he expected it would go very differently from the one he had planned to have before. He was wearing one of his fine leather belts and the weight of it was a constant reminder of what it was there for. Trying to be frank with himself, so he could approach this well, he admitted he planned to whip his son this afternoon, and he was committed to being a stable, yet compassionately harsh, source for Ed, so he would do this right.

At three that afternoon Hohenheim heard Ed coming up the snow covered steps to their second story apartment. The stairs were exterior, and there was another young voice with his son, an uneducated one with a poor accent Hohenheim didn't recognize, but who Edward seemed equated. Riff-raff, Hohenheim through was disappointment.

Ed opened the front door, smacking fresh German snow from his coat, in mid conversation with his acquaintance before stopping dead on sight of Hohenheim waiting patiently. Edward's expression looked as if someone pulled the plug. All expression dropped away with his thoughts, and even though Hohenheim was only sitting stationary, and waiting expectantly, something thick was communicated between them, and Ed sensed it.

The young boy following Ed inside was caught off guard entirely when Ed suddenly shut the door on him. Hohenheim heard a startled cry when the door missed the boy's face by an inch, and the sound of his quick steps back, crunching in the snow, before he cried out with surprised outrage and Ed answered with a quick, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"What's this all about?" the boy called in through the door, sounding confused. "Are you going in for the afternoon? What about everything else!"

Ed scowled silently to himself, and said quickly, "I can't talk right now." Ed had his shoulder leaned up against the door to brace it if the boy tried to enter, and added a quick, "I'll explain later! Just go back without me."

Hohenheim listened to the boy mutter a few disagreeable words, before he stomped down their outside steps. The snow left a peaceful compacting noise as he went, and Ed waited until the stairs were empty before turning slowly to face Hohenheim.

Ed was bundled warmly for the winter, with a long wool coat and scarf. About the his lapels and the bangs of his hair were fresh flakes, and Ed gave them another quick dust with his hand before saying, "It's a little creepy to see you sitting there."

"You didn't want to invite your friend inside?" Hohenheim asked, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice when the question was sarcastic.

Ed responded hostile, and said, "Cut the crap. What are you doing?"

Hohenheim felt like turning that question around. "I wanted to have a conversation."

"So you sit behind the front door?" Ed asked, unraveling his scarf and pulling it off. Hohenheim gestured to their right, the small apartment parlor where two chairs and a coffee table were set. The mannerism told Ed to sit, but instead Ed went to the closet and hung up his scarf before taking his coat off.

"I planned to have this conversation earlier this morning," Hohenheim said. "But then I found, you were not home." Ed gave a heavy sigh and closed the closet door harshly before returning to the parlor with a frown. His hands were stuffed into his brown pants, and he had a high collared dress shirt buttoned to the top of his chest. "I thought you were going to study your German."

"I decided to go out."

"I thought you had agreed to stay in until we corrected your papers."

Ed crossed the room and dropped himself into the parlor chair. It was an old upholstered thing, and had come with, and would stay, with the apartment if they left. Ed set his right elbow on the armrest and brought his hand up to his mouth thoughtfully. His gaze trained itself to the side and he was silent. Between them the mood was changing and they both felt it.

"You're upset I did this?" Ed asked softly. Hohenheim didn't answer. He kept his gaze on his son, and Ed shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Edward had agreed to stay indoors until the papers were obtained. Without them, something as slight as a public disturbance where a loud talking youth attracted a patrolmen would prompt him to see their papers. It would be done more for show, and then he would order them to move along, unless he found one without any. Unless he found a spy of war, or border jumper, or what looked like a POLE or MICK, in their pure German nest. That night, Ed would simply not come home, and Hohenheim would find himself with a very different obstacle.

Ed was panning the nail of his thumb back and forth his bottom lip in thought while the silence lingered in the room. He knew the severity of what he was doing, but seemed to be seeking something, the thrill he had found in the alley perhaps.

"Proof you are alive, will not be obtained by threatening your well being to ensure it is there," Hohenheim said, after a long pause. He kept his words educational, he wanted Ed to hear him. He didn't want the boy to become defensive. Ed bristled immediately and dropped his gaze to his lap. "You don't need to be tossed into German prison to be reassured of this fact Edward."

"German prison," Ed mumbled under his breath.

"I don't want you to feel meaningless and incapable in the sea of what's happening in this world son," Hohenheim said softly. "If you're looking for confirmation you're alive, I will give that to you."

Ed's eyes jumped up, and locked with Hohenheim's. In Ed's gaze Hohenheim could see a turmoil Ed usually kept hidden. Hohenheim's hypothesis was correct, this was what was bothering his son, and he was addressing it openly, something Ed was not good it, and also, in a scenario that was anxiously reminding Ed of similar one several weeks ago.

"I didn't lie," Ed said quickly. "I changed my mind, and that's not a lie." Hohenheim nodded in agreement. He could see what Ed was fretting. It was written across the boy's face as powerfully as it was written across a five year olds. Ed did not want to be punished for what he had done, but like the astute guilty child, knew he could, and perhaps should be. He remembered clearly what happened when he broke his promise to stay out of the West side of town, and understood today he had broken his agreement to stay home. "I didn't tell any lies," Ed said again, before shifting his weight again. "Are…" Ed began a question, but cut himself off quickly as if changing his mind, shifted his weight again, as if something about sitting on his rear was bothering him, and then broke back into speech. "Are you going to spank me?" Hohenheim was surprised Ed came right out with it. "Are you?" Ed demanded, looking just as worried. "You're thinking about it." This was accurate. Ed could sense this much, but he couldn't pinpoint the resolve. He wasn't sure which way this was going. "I promise I'll stay in. No more going out." Now we were pleading obedience. "I promise," Ed said again, lowering the hand from his mouth and licking his lips. "Come on." Ed was driving a dedicated campaign. "I am too old Hohenheim." This was not valid. "It's uncomfortable for me," Ed confessed, looking embarrassed. A small blush was rising, and Ed's left knee began a quick nervous bounce with Hohenheim's collected silence.

"What do you think prison will be like for you?"

"Oh, come on!" Ed snapped, becoming angry. "I don't want to bicker about hypotheticals! I wouldn't let myself be caught."

"Edward, your arrogance is a danger to you. You're becoming recklessly comfortable with Germany, and she is not your friend." Hohenheim cautioned. Ed narrowed his gaze with unease because this was frightfully on point. "What would you have me do?"

"Take my word," Ed said quickly.

Hohenheim gave a slow considering nod before saying, "I would, but you've withdrawn so much from it, there is no deposit left."

Ed scowled. "I said I'd promise!"

"You're worried you're going to be chastised," Hohenheim said, trying to stop Ed's bouncing knee. "I want us to talk without this prefacing anxiety," he said, gesturing to Ed's knee. Ed slapped a hand onto it and stopped the bouncing looking angry. "So I will tell you, you will be, so you can stop worrying about it."

"For this!" Ed cried with outrage. "For going out instead of studying German! I didn't even do anything!" Ed leapt to his feet. "Now way, I…" Ed silenced, when Hohenheim stood. It wasn't a fast aggressive movement, it was casual. Hohenheim adjusted his hands to either arm rest, and stood up comfortably. He towered over his son's twig of a body, and that was why Ed silenced, because for the moment, Hohenheim's usual menacing less size, was part of the enemy.

"I think it will do you some good," Hohenheim said honestly.

"It's not going to do me any good!" Ed yelled, blushing. "I want you to reconsider." Hohenheim shook his head, no he had made up his mind. "Hohenheim!" Ed yelled angrily. "Reconsider! I will give you a promise. I won't go out."

"No, I don't want to change my mind Edward," Hohenheim said. "I thought about this while waiting for you, and I plan to give you a harsh reprimanding to help quench what you're thirsting."

Ed's blush exploded in his cheeks, and his expression contorted with a look of panicked outrage. "Are you out of your mind!" Ed cried, more uncomfortable than he would ever admit they were openly talking about how his rear was going to get spanked so calmly.

"Where would you like us to do this?" Hohenheim asked.

Ed balked. "What! Now!" he cried, taking a small step back, face burning and ears turning pink. "Can't—aren't you going to wait until tonight or something!"

Hohenheim found this confusing. "Why wait until tonight?" he asked. "You want your spanking before bed?"

Ed jerked away and began an angry stomp to the kitchen. "Do I want!" Ed repeated with outrage. "Do I want, are you going senile!"

Hohenheim, not born yesterday, had seen deflecting tactics long enough to understand where Ed was going, even if Ed didn't realize it yet. He reached out and snatched Ed's ear before the boy could make it to the kitchen threshold, and Ed stopped dead and hissed, tipping his head to grant his ear as much leniency as possible.

"Stop right there Edward," Hohenheim said kindly. "We have a small apartment, please answer my question, and choose one of the rooms."

Ed's eyes were wide beneath his bangs, and he looked at Hohenheim with shock when sudden knocking came to their door. They both looked over with confusion, and the knocking continued before a young voice called out, "Edward! Come out!" the tone was friendly, and Ed's eyes widened further when he realized a friend was just several feet from where he stood with his ear held like a naughty child.

Hohenheim smiled. "Is that the boy you were out with?"

Ed's mouth twitched in a moment of indecision, and then reluctantly he admitted, "yes," in a soft embarrassed tone.

"Do you know, I could open the door and bring him in," Hohenheim said. Ed choked a startled flighty sound. "Discipline him as well, for conducting such behavior with my son. That's common enough in Germany, did you know that?" Edward did not know that, and he was going pale at the thought of one of his peers, as well as a spectator, witnessing his humiliation. "I bet the boy would cry," Hohenheim said.

"Don't," Ed whispered, voice faint and eyes wide. "Don't—don't bring him in. Don't…" Ed began a soft attempted shake on his head. "You can't…" Ed said, wincing with the thought. He had a good idea of what was going to happen to him in a few minutes, and it was nauseating. Hohenheim was going to remind him, very painfully, that there were consequences, and it was going to involve several extremely humiliating steps. One of those involved taking his pants down, and one of those most likely involved bending over his father's knee like a toddler, and the thought of someone standing there and watching, was… Ed's mind when to a blank white space, and Hohenheim could see the absolute dread this brought, and broke a friendly chuckle.

"Edward, I am not going to son," he said, heading into the kitchen and dragging Ed along with him. Ed felt immense relief even while in route to his spanking, before Hohenheim added, "You'd have to do something much worse than this son." Ed blanched. Letting someone watch him be spanked was the worst thing he could think of, and with his stomach bottoming out, and his feet feeling floppy and uncoordinated, he was led by his ear into their small bedroom and released.

"Now, I am going to give you some support," Hohenheim said, crossing the room to the thin writing desk before the single window. Ed watched looking flabbergasted and horrified as Hohenheim cleared the few books off the desk and opened the curtains. The bright light of a partly sunny winter day filtered in. It made the walls and floor look old and well used, and brought the dust particles in the air to life. "You're going to bend over the desk here," Hohenheim said, turning around and meeting his son's dread filled eyes. "Today you're getting the belt, and it will sting."

Ed had never felt a belt, in fact the boy hadn't felt more than the hand to a single person: Hohenheim. When he was younger mom didn't spank, it was only dad, and he had been spanked several times that he could remember, all before the age of eight, before winding up back over the old man's knee at the age of eighteen and a half just a few weeks ago. It was embarrassing just to think about, and Ed didn't know what a belt would be like, but as unappealing as this all was, there was something slightly more appealing about bending over furniture rather than the man's knee, and taking a belt like a man, rather than a hand or slipper like a small child. Hohenheim could see this glimmer of tolerance in Ed's thinking eyes, and the naivety amused him in a kind way. There was so much life for his son to experience still.

"Go ahead," Hohenheim said, stepping from the table, and gesturing to it.

Ed looked at the simple desk before lifting his gaze to the window over head. "In…front of the window?" he asked with a bit of alarm.

"There are several police who guard the end of the intersection you can see from this window," Hohenheim said, pointing to them. They were in the distance, uniforms in order, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes surveying the bustling crowd with common disinterest. "I want you to look at them, while you're rear is being chastised so you associate the corrupt German authority, with the painful desire to avoid them."

Ed was horrified with this explanation, and gapped for a useless second, before sputtering, "I—I can't face—I can't be up against a window for this!"

"No one can see in Ed. I promise none of our neighbors are of the education or finance to own a telescope," Hohenheim teased.

"No—No!" Ed cried, shaking his head. Hohenheim advanced and gently took Ed's shoulders. "Come on, a window! Hohenheim you're torturing me!" Hohenheim led Ed to the desk and bent the boy over it. "Bend clear over," Hohenheim instructed, helping Ed down until his chest was flush against it and his waist was unintentionally elevated and extended. "Reach forward, and grab the front." Ed did so, even while muttering protests. "And stay put son."

Hohenheim stepped back and began unfastening his pants. The clank of his belt made Ed shiver. He stared at his knuckles gripping the front of the desk, before looking out at the passing German people in the streets below. There were women leading small children by the hand, youth his age, scurrying about in cheerful groups, older couples sticking to themselves, shop keepers, errand boys, a school teacher with a small class crowding behind her. In the streets below Germany was conducting life, and Ed found it sick he was going to have to watch them all to the tune of feeling them watch him while he was whipped like a little boy.

Hohenheim unthread his belt from his waist and stepped back. "Keep yourself bent over Ed, I will give you a couple warm up slaps, but your spanking today is going to be harsh, so I ask you to still yourself responsibly, understand?"

Miserably Ed muttered, "Just do it."

Hohenheim obliged, he bent his belt in half, and aimed directly above the backs of Ed's knees. Then he let the belt slap down with the slightest fraction of his strength. He expected Ed's body to understand it was struck with something, and that the impact was enough to leave a tingle, but nothing more.

Ed flinched heavily, and pressed his face into the table as if expecting the blow to be dreadful. With the third, falling just above the second, Ed lifted his head looking a bit confused and excited. Hey, this isn't going to be so bad at all!

Hohenheim let this ignorance continue. He gave Ed a quick tapping from the backs of his knees to the underneath of his rear and then he stopped.

"Good," he announced after a short pause. Ed looked in high spirits and Hohenheim reached up and unbuttoned his collar. "Take your pants and under shorts down, spread your feet to shoulder width, and then bend back over Edward." Ed was still with this order, before peeking back with apprehension, and Hohenheim broke a soft good-natured laugh. "Son," he said laughing. "Surely you did not think that was what it felt like to be belted."

"What do I have to take my pants down for," Ed argued, irritated he had believed he was being belted, and now felt like a fool.

"Because you were disobedient, that is why," Hohenheim said, laughter stopping for a firm tone. "I don't think I need to verbally chastise you as well, but if you want me to I will. Now, pants down, and we will begin for real."

Ed stood up slowly, staring at his palms as he rested them on the desk, before slowly bringing them to his waist. Hohenheim watched Ed unfasten his belt with dread filled care, before Ed was unzipping his fly, blushing to his ears. Once opened, Ed's pants became loose on his waist, and with his knees a bit wobbly, he looped his thumbs into the rims, blushing hotly and beginning a light nervous sweat. With his stomach doing mortified loops, he pushed them down just below his cheeks.

Lower," Hohenheim instructed.

"Come on," Ed whined, hunching his shoulders upward with embarrassment while hanging onto his drawers.

"Lower Edward, down past your knees."

"Are you kidding!" Ed complained, bending forward slowly as he pushed his pants and underwear down to his calves. "This is crap!" Ed straightened back up, with his dress shirt hanging about his rear like a white sail, and glanced back uneasily. "Okay, I apologize, just call this off, and I promise Hohenheim, scout's honor, I promise."

Hohenheim smiled. He was expecting Ed to do more than promise. "Thank you," he said kindly, giving a receiving nod. "But please bend back down, you are being whipped today Ed, and you're not getting out of it." Ed scowled and tossed himself back over the desk. "Spread your legs." Ed kicked his ankles out to shoulder width, fussing.

Hohenheim stepped forward and looked at the slender waist of his son. With care he lifted Ed's dress shirt off his naked rear, and folded it back, so the boy's lumbar was exposed. Distantly he remembered being hesitant to touch Ed when he was a child, to pat the boy's head or take him in his arms, fearing himself a monster that could spread like a disease. Hohenheim stroked his hand down Ed's naked cheek, and Ed tightened it. Now, ironically, he found himself growing to a point where he felt more than capable of touch. As a parent he had found the strength to manage a harsh guiding touch if that kept Edward from becoming his own type of monster: the self-destructing type.

Hohenheim stepped back and readied the belt. Ed was quiet and obediently in position waiting until he lifted, swung, and let the beginning strike crack down.

Edward was kissed by the belt for the first time, dead center across his thighs, and he leapt up so fast Hohenheim startled. Ed didn't cry out, he went ramrod straight, inhaling a large controlled breath, before reaching back and scrubbing viciously at his thighs. Ed exhaled just as quickly, and inside it came the squeaking cry, "We can't do this!"

"We're doing this Edward," Hohenheim said firmly. Ed was rubbing fiercely as if stung by hornets.

"Yeah, but, it…" Ed croaked, lifting a leg in pain endurance before replacing it and looking up with fearful disbelief. "That really hurts," Ed admitted softly.

"It's not called a whipping for nothing," Hohenheim said, pointing back to the desk with the belt. "Over it."

"Yeah, but if you want to spank me, I am okay with it the old fashioned way!" Ed said, breaking into a whine and shaking his head as he spoke. "Not with a belt, I don't need the belt," Ed said quickly. It took one blow, and Ed now feared the belt. "Hohenheim, you have no idea what that feels like! It's immense!"

"I do know. I was also whipped as a boy, now over the desk."

"And you're still going to do this! You heartless bastard! It god damn hurts!" Ed's anger appeared suddenly, and Hohenheim stepped forward, corrected Ed over the desk and let the boy have another.

Ed did not cooperate with his repositioning. He caught himself with his palms against the desk before he could be bent over it, and tried to push back up when the belt fell. Then Ed dropped his chest to the desk in order to reach back and rub with a loud, "Ow!"

Hohenheim knocked Ed's reaching hands aside. "Grip the top of the desk Ed, and I will not tell you again," Hohenheim said angrily. With the tone Ed reached up and grabbed the desk with his rear trembling. The backs of his thighs had two red stripes, but there would be plenty more before Hohenheim decided he was finished.

"Please, okay, please," Ed whined softly. "Don't whip me, I am sorry, Hohenheim, I really am."

"Good," Hohenheim said, resting his palm on Ed's lower back to keep him in place. "That is the first step of this process." He swung the belt across Ed's thighs, and Ed struggled. He wasn't belting the boy's rear, he was specifically belting the back's of his legs. This was sensitive and thin territory, and Ed took three blows, shaking with his endurance, and completely silent, before squeaking out loud cries, each time one fell. Unbeknown to Ed, Hohenheim was doing this as an act of compassion. Although it was common for boy's Ed's age to be whipped, and whipped well at home, he didn't want Ed having the embarrassment of sitting on a sore belt-whipped rear in public. Ed was just starting to make a few German friends, and although they were German boys who would know what it felt like to sit on a belt-whipped rear, he thought this was a milestone Ed didn't need to cross. He could spare his son this, and obtain a more intimate experience for them both.

Bent over with his legs spread and his thighs going from pink to read, Ed was gritting his teeth and gurgling saliva trying to remain composed. The belt felt worse than anything, and was stripping the skin off in layers. He envisioned himself peeling up in bacon strips until the foggy image of white bone came through his muscled legs. Hohenheim aimed largely mid thigh to the backs of Ed's knees while Ed was gripping the desk with white knuckles, grinding his teeth, and pressing his forehead to the table, but when Hohenheim moved, and did mid thigh to the base of Ed's slender rear, Ed lost his composure.

"Ow! OW!" Ed cried, breaking into quick wiggles. "Okay! Enough!" He cried, sweating. His eyes opened in thin cracks, and outside he could see the police at the corner. Their bored faces were surveying the crowed, and Ed envisioned them asking for his papers, and those bored faces became something else. They transformed into dark masks with exaggerated crying frowns, and red tears leaking from their eyes like monsters. They would take him someplace awful, and hurt him worse than this. "Ow Hohenheim!" Ed yelled, lifting his left leg after a harsh slap came at the top of his thighs. "Please! Ow! Please!"

Hohenheim did not slow, he was belting methodically, following a classing whipping with a steady rhythm racking the belt over Edward's thighs in quick passes. His son's scrawny legs were shivering, dancing, and Ed's white untouched rear was wagging. Ed began a long unending strain of whining muffled cries, and began shuffling his feet uncontrollably. It was horribly undignified and Hohenheim understood Ed was momentarily aware only of his reprimanding, and the intense desire to save his disobedient skin. He was no longer the respectful eighteen and a half year old he was, he was an eight year old, whining and wiggling under his father's hand.

"Good form Edward," Hohenheim congratulated when he brought his sixteenth slap down and Ed had not yet screamed. Ed was physically, there was no mistaking that. Ed was beating his fist into the top of the desk with his face pressed into the top whining at the top of his lungs. His legs looked cherry red, and the white of his bottom was stark in comparison. His son was made of something strong, Hohenheim understood this, and he took pride in it at all times other than those where he was chastising the boy, and it made him push to extremes. "Edward!" Hohenheim said loudly, pausing mid swing. "You'll have five more."

"No!" Ed cried, suddenly breaking into speech. Under the strain of enduring the pain of it, and clenching all muscles so tightly, Ed was growing wet with sweat. Between the boy's legs it was damp at both thighs, and anywhere Ed lay his face on the desk caused him to drip with perspiration. "No, please! Ow, Hohenheim it's terrible! Please!"

"Five more," Hohenheim said, tone harsh and unforgiving. "You are to count out loud each one."

Hohenheim was unsure if Ed were crying when they reached this stage. He assumed Ed may be, considering the boy's sniffling and fussing, but his attention was busy on Ed's legs. He was being very careful not to injure Ed's body while making true effort to guarantee this whipping stung fiercely. He was belting Ed's tender skin painfully, and so was not positive Ed was crying until his order, when Ed gave a few muffled wails. "Five, starting at twenty," Hohenheim said, lifting the belt and bringing it down for a solid crack.

Ed cried out loudly, arching his back up, before muttering, "One."

"I said starting from twenty," Hohenheim corrected. "Now that one won't count."

"Twenty!" Ed cried, franticly. "Twenty! Twenty! I meant twenty! I said twenty!" Ed looked back and his face was smeared with tears. The boy's eyes were pink sorry swells and Hohenheim felt himself waiver. "Please, twenty. I am ready for twenty one," Ed sobbed. "Okay? Give me twenty-one!" Ed turned his rear up a bit, and even though it was not the target, the action was respectable. Ed's bottom half was quaking in torment, throbbing and aching as if the back of his legs had been polished with sand paper. The burning was so hot and so tight, Ed couldn't keep it together. He was left draped over the table begging for the remaining four slaps so it could end. Anything to make it end.

"Fine Ed," Hohenheim said softly. "That is the one leniency you will get from me here," he said, raising the belt. Ed cried out a long thank you, before howling and dancing from foot to foot before sobbing out twenty one. A solid slap fell just below Ed's white cheeks, and Ed looked as if he were standing on coals, and counted to twenty three. Hohenheim did two, fast, back to back in the same spot below Ed's rear and he thought the boy was going to climb off the table.

Ed screamed, and reached back to rub his white cheeks and the hot pulsing skin beneath it crying, "Twenty three, twenty four. Twenty four." Hohenheim shewed Ed's hand away. "Twenty four," Ed said, continuing to cry.

"Last one," Hohenheim said. He lifted the belt, let it hang, dangling over his fist, before swinging it down and slapping a fat red strip across Ed's flawless cheeks.

Ed was not expecting this. His feet returned to fast shuffling and he knocked his head into the table top a few times, crying miserably.

Hohenheim tossed the belt aside, and gently pet his right hand down the back of Ed's right cheek and leg. Ed broke out shuttering, yelping small noises, and looked back immediately. "Easy there," Hohenheim whispered, rubbing gently. "Relax Ed." He rubbed up the left leg, making gentle passes, and Ed was shaking. The boy's thighs were blistered, and pulsing like an open wound. "Up we go," Hohenheim said, stepping back and tugging Ed up by his shoulders.

Ed reached back and grabbed his rear crying. Standing pitifully in his dress shirt with his pants pooled at his ankles he looked like a naughty school boy and Hohenheim wrapped him in a kind embrace. "Easy Ed," Hohenheim said, patting Ed's back lovingly. Ed was sobbing out the word ow, but for the moment, was lost in himself, and unable to easily reach his legs, was holding his bottom.

"I..." Ed said, hiccupping almost too hard to speak. "…promise…I…"

"No promises yet son, you're not finished," Hohenheim said kindly. He was expecting Ed to argue, but instead Ed just cried. His flesh hand left his rear, and he covered his eyes, choking openly and loudly. "Let's have you stand at the wall for five minutes," Hohenheim said, turning Ed to the wall. Ed obeyed, taking sad compliant steps, and stood crying with his flared thighs burning into the room.

"Can I be done?" Ed asked, crying out his words.

Hohenheim didn't answer this. He left and went to the kitchen. He filled a glass with water, and made Ed an afternoon sandwich which he brought back on a tray. Ed was leaning forehead first into the wall, and crying softly when Hohenheim returned. Hohenheim set the tray on the desk and took a seat on the end of the bed.

"All right Ed, come here," Hohenheim said softly. Ed took a slow single step back from the wall, and then sniffled excessively. Hohenheim waited, and after a second of scrubbing his red sweat-drenched and tear-smeared face, Ed turned around and wobbled the three steps to Hohenheim's knees. Ed looked drenched in remorse, and well disciplined when Hohenheim looked up at the boy, and he smiled a soft caring smile. "Okay Ed, how's it feel."

"Burns so bad," Ed sobbed. "The belt is fucking insane."

"You don't want to be whipped again, right?" Hohenheim asked, certain of the answer. Ed shook his head madly with wide fear filled eyes. "You're going to keep yourself from earning a whipping?" Ed was nodding excessively. "If you seek danger, and you feel lifeless, I want you to come to me, do you understand."

"I don't seek danger," Ed sobbed. "I don't know…what…" Ed's head dropped with shame, and he choked a sob into his hand, before wiping his nose on the back of it. "I just want…I can't…" Hohenheim waited patiently. Ed was sputtering heavily with his breathing so erratic. "I just feel like sometimes I…don't…exist," Ed whispered cringing.

"And do your thighs exist now?"

Ed's wincing expression gave way to frenetic stress. "Yes—yeah—yes they do, they're burning, they're burning, on fire."

"Good," Hohenheim said firmly. "If you worry you don't exist, you are to come to me, and ask me to spank you." Ed looked traumatized with this suggestion, and Hohenheim reached forward and snatched Ed by both shoulders. "You're going astray, wandering away in your mind. It doesn't have to hurt you Ed. I won't discipline you, but if you need a reminder, we can do it together, under your pretenses, understand?" Ed's jaw was on the floor. "Don't make me have to whip you," Hohenheim threatened. "Because I will do it. I will do it so harshly you'll beg for your thighs to feel like this every day just to escape it." Ed's throat crackled a petrified sound. "So don't make me," Hohenheim said, voice low and serious. He gave Ed a dark pointed stare, before leaning back the slightest inch and returning to a comforting expression. "Now, you will bend over my knee, so I can spank your bare bottom, and finish your punishment."

Ed's stricken expression cracked with accepting suffering, and he muttered, "Please."

"I won't be too harsh with you, but I want you to feel yourself over your father's knee. It's good for you." Hohenheim gave his knee a pat. "Over you go."

Ed stepped to the side. When you were just whipped it was easier to agree to things you otherwise would have fought, and crying, Ed draped himself over Hohenheim's legs like his child self had done. His pants were already at his ankles, and his bare bottom had a single red stripe across it. Sniffling excessively Ed stared down at the floor with his sweat drenched bangs sticking to his forehead, and flopping limply off him with gravity. His backside felt vulnerable, naughty, and deserving. As much as the belt hurt, and as much as his thighs hurt now, his bottom felt it earned it, and he asked for it.

"Spank me," Ed whimpered, shaking with dread. He arched his shivering cheeks up. "I deserve it," he muttered, sniffling and licking at the tear that came down his cheek and began running toward his nose with the angle. "I am sorry."

Hohenheim smiled and rested his hand on Ed's trembling rear. "Good boy." Then he lifted his hand and spanked. First the right cheek and then the left. The blows weren't overly painful, but Ed flinched hard with every one. His hindquarters pulsed terribly from his belting, and he didn't need his rear beaten to continue the message, what he needed was a slow controlled spanking from his father, disciplining him, but loving him at the same time.

Hohenheim kept the blows slow, and Ed cried out a soft affirmation of their arrival as they came. "Ow." Ed would squeak. "Ouch." Ed's tone was soft. "Ah." Barely more than a whisper. "Ugh." Hohenheim found it heartwarming. "Ow, ow." He rubbed Ed's cheeks affectionately, and continued on. "Ow." Ed's skin grew pink. "Ah, ow." Then red toward the bottom. "Ow!" These weren't love taps, but they weren't merciless blows either. Hohenheim let Ed's gentle initial squirming progress to cheek clenching wiggling. His slaps made Ed jerk, made his thighs twist, made him whine, and when Ed's rear was red Ed would drum his toes into the floor and cry. It was solid heart felt weeping, and when Ed lay limp over him, thighs burning, and backside red, crying openly with his rear accepting, Hohenheim stopped.

He whispered a soft, "All done Ed," and rubbed the boy's spanked bottom. Ed didn't respond, and continued to cry in the deflated selfless way any well spanked boy should. He hissed when Hohenheim rubbed down his thighs, and wiggled when the sensitive bottom of his red cheeks were pet, but stayed obediently bent over as his father directed.

Hohenheim rubbed Ed's aching skin for almost a full minute, before helping the boy up. He stood and took Ed back in a tight embrace, and Ed returned the hug and continued weeping. They stood in the bedroom with Ed half dressed and crying, and the window displaying the German people down below for a long time. When Ed felt able to stop the hug Hohenheim obliged, and Ed reached back, bending down to touch his thighs, and whimpered and whined as he rubbed his sore skin.

"You're a good boy Ed," Hohenheim said. "Stay put and I'll get some lotion for your skin." Hohenheim left to the lavatory and retrieved a glass bottle of lotion. Ed was attempting to rub his thighs with slow flighty touches, as if petting fire, when Hohenheim returned, and he felt sympathy for the boy. He approached the bed and set his left foot on top of it, before gently grasping Ed's arm. "Come now," he said softly. "Over my knee." Ed obliged, looking uncomfortable but desperate for relief, and bent over Hohenheim's raised knee, placing his palms on the bed quilt and standing with his quaking rear raised and defenseless. The position made it tremble gently, and Hohenheim gave a soft loving laugh as he dabbed lotion into his palm, before stroking it down Ed's left cheek.

Ed broke out whining at once. "Ow!" Ed cried, arching his back up. "Ow, Hohenheim. Ow, ow that hurts." Hohenheim was diligently careful and Ed fussed continually. He behaved like a toddler with diaper rash, squirming his rear about to avoid the lotion, and whining when it was captured for copious amounts. Carefully Hohenheim painted the red skin of Ed's rear and thighs until they were shimmering, and then he stood the boy back up. Unable to touch, Ed was straight as a statue wincing and hissing.

Hohenheim retrieved the water and sandwich and brought it to Ed's crying red nosed self. Ed emptied the glass looking desperate for comfort, and ate the sandwich almost just as fast. With Ed chewing with fat cheeks Hohenheim looped his arm about Ed's shoulders and kissed the top of his head with a wide grin. "Take my words seriously Ed," he said softly, keeping Ed in his grasp to comfort the boy. Ed's eyes were tired half-mass swells and he stood staring ahead at the wall, for the moment seeing nothing, and chewing. Hohenheim believed he had done a thorough job, and Ed would feel the belting for at least a week, while the sting in his bottom would go relatively quickly. "This was significantly harsher than your last spanking with a bit of slipper," Hohenheim said, musing to himself. Ed grunted a crushed sound of irritated agreement and Hohenheim chuckled. He set his hand on top Ed's head and tousled the boy's hair lovingly. "But it's still not the best I can do," Hohenheim said kindly.

Ed's eyes shot upward to Hohenheim with jaw dropping shock.

Hohenheim responded to this with a kind smile and second ruffle to Ed's head before adding, "Let's be good then, shall we?"

Woo! This story is Gift-Wrapped for the wonderful FluffPuffNuff. Thank you for the fun request - I hope I met your expectations! A little daddyhoho/Ed is always appreciated.

Please leave a review! This one was a bit harsh. What did you guys think?

This is the second part of a series. Trials of an Era:1 - The First Offense, available on my profile.
[Note: I actively take story plot requests, and those I complete are classified as "Gift Wrapped." Check out my profile for more details.]