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He wore them all the time. Like, all the time. You weren’t sure why, you’d seen his hands when he changed from his usual leather into the disposable nitrile used in the lab—there was nothing wrong with them. In fact, you thought he had quite nice looking hands, with long strong fingers that could so easily wrap around your throat...
Regardless, they remained covered. Not that you minded that much, you actually found the gloves to be rather provocative. You weren’t sure if he wore the same pair each day or rotated between a few, as they were always made from the same high-quality black leather. Like his sunglasses, they were another barrier between you and him. He kept them in place at all times, a shield to maintain “professional” distance; like it made being bent across his lap, bare from the waist down any less unprofessional. You were in his office, sat on the loveseat with a white noise machine playing at his locked door. One hand was held across your mouth to muffle your cries; the other kneaded into the soft flesh of your ass, already covered in burning hand prints.
“That’s twenty-five—nearly there, dearest.” He spoke, voice soothing. You whined, hips wiggling in his grasp.
SMACK
His palm came down on your rear again, hard and fast, and you cried into your gag. The teasing spanks were at the beginning, finding the sweet spot between pain and pleasure. Now was when he tested you, pushing to the very edge between those sensations to see what you could really handle.
“Twenty-six. Shh shh shh, I know, little rabbit. But it feels so good to get what you deserve, doesn’t it? That delicious sting, I know you love it.” He smooths over where he just spanked you, admiring the new welt forming. He would probably leave less of an aftermath without the gloves on; but maybe that was the point of wearing them, at least during your sessions together.
“Now, if you needed, we could always speed things up...” His hand trails from your ass to between your legs, rubbing at your lips. He hadn’t touched you there the entire scene, focused solely on abusing your ass, and still you coated the fabric of his gloves with your wetness. The hand on your mouth moves to grip you by the throat, gentle enough you can still breathe but firm enough to keep you in place. “What do you say, little rabbit?”
One hit to your pussy equaled two on your ass, that was his rule. Instead of four more spanks, you’d only need to endure two. But Wesker managed to be extra cruel when you gave him the opportunity, you knew it wouldn’t just be two more spanks...Still, your ass burned like hell, and he’d made you take far more hits to your pussy before. Whatever he wanted to do, you were confident you could take it.
“Y-yes, Sir. Please, make it quick. ‘m so soreeee.” Wesker laughed, finding sadistic amusement at how whiny and helpless he made you. Only he could get you to beg to have your pussy slapped, and the thrill intoxicated him.
“Of course, my pet.” He purrs, wrenching your thighs apart to rub your exposed cunt—rough and mean. It wasn’t meant to feel good, it was meant to prepare you for what came next. Wesker gave you a few testing pats before rearing his hand again, coming down against your clit and lower lips. The impact wasn’t as hard as the ones to your ass, but the area was so sensitive tears pooled in the corners of your eyes as he ripped a sob from your throat. Without his hand muffling you, anyone down the hall must have heard the noise, but neither of you could pretend to care at the moment. He would never admit it, but these scenes left Wesker’s head swimming in a way not too unfamiliar to your own, serving to cloud his judgement.
Despite this, he knew he should quiet you down. Wesker stuck a couple fingers in your mouth while two on the other hand teased your entrance, pushing in knuckle by knuckle and curling down towards your stomach. Both gloves were soiled now, spit dripping down one as the other was drenched by him working his fingers in and out of you—nuzzling against that sensitive spot inside.
Wesker clicked his tongue, “Tsk tsk, so noisy, so pathetic. That’s another spank to this messy little cunt.” He slipped a third digit in without resistance, and you moaned around the fingers in your mouth. “Keep it down, or you will regret it, pet.” He snarled, leaning in until you could feel his breath against your ear. The fingers in your mouth pushed deeper, causing you to gag on them. You whined but nodded your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Good. Nice and obedient for your master.” He cooed, condescension thick in his voice.
He pulled his hand from your pussy and gave it a sudden, hard smack, leaving you to flutter around nothing as the pain and pleasure mixed together in an enchanting haze. More tears streaked down your face, dripping off your chin onto his lap as you did your best to hold back another scream. Wesker licked the salt from your cheeks, groaning with satisfaction, and your core clenched again at his show of approval. He replaced his fingers, urgent and prodding, and you could feel a familiar tension winding low in your abdomen. You were at the edge—both of pleasure and your limit to withstand the pain he inflicted—and Wesker was drunk off the power he held over you in this moment. He alone decided whether you deserved an orgasm or to be pushed until you begged for mercy, leaving you bruised and desperate for release.
You whined around his fingers, trying to say how close you were but the words came out garbled and incoherent. Not that you needed to tell him, he could feel that you were seconds away from finishing with how your body shivered in his lap. His fingers pulled back just as you tipped over, landing another devastating smack to your clit. The hand filling your mouth also moved to fist your hair, head arched up until your eyes met.
“Very naughty, pet. I didn’t give you permission to cum, now did I?” He spat, slapping your sensitive cunt over and over again through your orgasm. “You are just so pitiful, little rabbit. I don’t need to bother with making you feel good, maybe next time you only get to cum from me spanking you. Would that finally teach you some discipline, hmm?” Wesker scolded, not giving you time to recover between hits anymore. Your mind went blank with the intensity of it all; your orgasm that hardly begun was ruined, and all you were left with was the insistent, searing pain of his gloved palm against your still-spasming cunt. It was so much, too much, you needed it to stop. But you wanted to be good and take the punishment, it was earned. You did your best to hold back, but you slipped over without his permission and that was a clear rule broken.
Finally he stopped. A few more and you would have cried mercy, and Wesker could sense how close to that line you were. Your punishment was done for the time being; he could always choose to torture you again in your next session for the disobedience, after all.
Wesker flipped you so you were cradled in his arms rather than spread over his lap, and you felt the back of his hand come to wipe at your tear-stained face. The soiled gloves were discarded, and for once you could feel the heat coming from his skin as he caressed you.
“You take your punishments so well, little rabbit. I know that must have been hard, always so strong for me.” He praised—a soft, subtle smile on his lips. His adoration was like a warm, heavy blanket after such a rough scene, and to get to feel his skin against your own overwhelmed your senses. You nuzzled into his hand, tears of relief falling from your eyes as he continued to dote on you.
"That's it, my dear; feels so good to get all that pent up emotion out, doesn't it?" He cooed.
"Yes, S-Sir. Tha-ank you." You hiccuped, and he pulled you into his chest; quiet, comforting praise falling from his lips as you came down from the release. Once you calmed, Wesker laid you down on the couch bum-up and rubbed soothing lotion into the marks covering your skin. You were already bruising, which meant you'd have to wait until these fully healed before he'd be rough with you like this again. Wesker was stringent about your rest periods between scenes, and no amount of begging to be used would sway him. Besides, he had countless ways to play with you beyond a simple spanking session.
After Wesker finished calming your stinging flesh, you replaced your clothing and went to the nearby bathroom to clean up your face. As you were about to leave, a familiar PhD student came in, stopping when they spotted you.
"Oh my goodness, a-are you okay?! I thought I heard crying coming from Dr. Wesker's office but I didn't think it was you he would be yelling at." Your face flushed and you glanced in the mirror to see red, puffy eyes staring back at you. Shit, at least they just think he was being…him. You hated the thought of a rumor spreading about how the evil Dr. Wesker made his fellow cry, but the alternative to that story was far worse for you both. At least this only reaffirmed what people already thought about him; the truth would be bigger, much more shocking news.
"Y-yeah, well, guess even I'm not immune to his wrath, heh." You said, the hoarseness in your throat from crying added to your attempt at sounding downtrodden. In reality, you felt incredible. This only happened because you came to his office, begging for a distraction after you bombed a presentation; one that you, admittedly, did not rehearse. He was more than happy to oblige, claiming that you clearly were in need of punishment. Laziness was unacceptable to him, and part of you knew that when you decided to blow off practicing for this particular, otherwise inconsequential talk. It was all a game, one only the two of you were aware was being played, and you planned to keep it that way.
"Wow, I'm so sorry. I mean, everyone kinda thought he was almost nice to you. It was a bit unnerving, actually." They say with an awkward laugh, trying to lighten the mood. You give them a tight-lipped smile and force a huff.
"Eh, I knew what I was signing up for." You pushed past them without another word and returned to work, playing up your role of the poor abused fellow for the rest of the day.