Naughty Boy

“We should just kill him!” A exclaimed as he slammed his massive fist against the table, which creaked dangerously under the force of the blow. Thankfully, the Raikage had been warned not to ruin any more furniture in the residence they inhabited - nor any more walls, for that matter – or else. He hadn’t seemed to take the threat very seriously at first, but one evening Mei had gone to have a little chat with him, carrying a suspicious looking folder in her hands. Jiraiya had been able to chance glimpse at the contents of said folder and since that moment he could barely look at the Raikage and keep a straight face. After all, it’s very difficult to do so while your mind is replaying the image of the large, beefy man dressed in a pink tutu and equally pink panties, passed out drunk on the floor with a trail of drool sliding from his lipstick-smudged mouth. Killer Bee, at least he assumed Killer Bee did this, because Jiraiya doubted Aa would allow anyone else that close even when drunk, had a mean, mean streak when it came to pulling pranks on drunk people.

The threat to spread copies of those photos around had had a remarkable effect on the amount of smashed walls and furniture, though Jiraiya thought that the Raikage was plotting his sweet revenge on his brother when he returned to Kumo. He almost wished he could be there to see the results when it happened. He was sure it would be spectacular.

“I agree.” Mei nodded. “Though it’d be such a loss to kill such a pretty thing.” She sighed.

“He has caused all of us great trouble.” Gaara added from across the table. “If I started listing all his crimes, I’d have to go all day and I’d still not be done.”

“A public execution. To serve as an example for other such troublemakers.” Onoki, the Tsuchikage agreed as well. He turned to Jiraiya “What say you, Jiraiya-san? As Tsunade’s representative on this council, you haven’t said anything yet and he was your student.” He paused. “Where is Tsunade anyway?”

“She’s busy overseeing the reconstruction projects.” Jiraiya answered mildly.

“Aaah. Indeed. After all, no one else suffered losses as great as Konoha.” Raikage said, his gruff voice rumbling in his wide chest. “Surely you’re in favour in executing the one known as Pein?”

“Nagato.” Jiraiya corrected him. “And no, I am not in favour of killing him.”

“Konoha…” Gaara began, looking distinctly annoyed but Jiraiya lifted his hand interrupt him.

“Konoha suffered large-scale vandalism as a result of his attack, but the people of Konoha are fine. All of them. Including myself. And Ame is already paying reparations to fund our reconstruction. So, no, I do not favour executing him.”

There was an angry sputter from A as he said that.

“So what, we just let the little bastard go after all he’s done just because you wish you save your student?!” the large man growled, lifting his arm to slam his fist on the table again but thought better of it after everyone sent him warning glares.

“I am not suggesting we let him go without any punishment. In fact, he’ll probably choose execution to what I am about to propose.”

“And what is it that you’re proposing, Jiraiya-san?” Onochi asked, the tiny old man looking at him curiousy.

Jiraiya smiled. Everyone gulped.

Two days later the doors of Nagato’s cell opened, creaking ominously. He looked up from where he was slumped in a corner and blinked rapidly in attempt to get used to the sudden bright light that invaded dark he had grown accustomed to for the past several months.

Several large ANBU operatives poured in, looming over him. He glared up them, knowing that the rippled pattern of the Rin’negan could no longer harm them, now that he was permanently stuck in Yahiko’s body. Releasing the souls of all that had died in his attack against Konoha had taken its toll on him.

“The Kages have reached a decision regarding your fate.” The ANBU commander, a broad-shouldered man in a white cloak, informed him. The other two ANBU reached and grabbed him under the arms, lifting him off the floor and tugging him out of the cell. They were moving fast through the corridors of his prison, and crowded as he was between them, his feet practically hanging in the air as they practically carried him, he barely had time to register the change in scenery when they finally left the building.

The angry whispers around him quickly grew to angry shouts as Nagato realized that he was being dragged through a pissed off crowd that cursed and spat and mostly looked ready to tear him away from the two ANBU and lynch him. Never one to back down, Nagato glowered right back, even knowing that he couldn’t do any actual damage.

The fact that he was being dragged out here like that meant only one thing – they intended to execute him, and publicly at that. He should’ve known. He deserved it, he knew – his betrayal of Jiraiya’s ideals, of Yahiko’s ideals, all the people he had hurt and killed – he deserved to die for his crimes. In fact, he had hoped for death all along while he lingered in that dank cell.

The crowds finally parted before them and revealed a raised wooden dais. On the dais there was a solitary empty chair, four stern-looking Hokages and one very stern-looking Sensei.

The ANBU dragged him up the four stairs and finally loosened their grip on him enough so his feet met the wooden floor beneath them. The shouts around them were reaching crescendo as he was pushed forward to face the five people and Nagato lifted his chin in a show of what he knew was an empty bravado. Still, if they were going to kill him now he wasn’t going to go down begging for his life. He had more dignity than that.

“QUIEEEEETTT!!!!” the Mizukage suddenly roared, her voice greatly magnified by a jutsu. Everyone winced, especially the large, brutish man right next to her. Raikage, if Zetsu’s intelligence reports were to be believed.

Still, the roar had the desired effect and the mob screaming for Nagato’s blood grew deathly quiet.

Nagato turned to look at Jiraiya, who hadn’t moved from his spot standing by the empty chair. Odd, there seemed to be no instruments which could be used to execute him with – no noose, no stump and axe, no… Nagato decided not to think of the more exotic methods of snuffing the life out of convicts – he had seen his share of gruesome executions during the wars in Ame, even if he had always tried to provide the quickest death possible to his enemies. Hanzo hadn’t been nearly as nice.

So, how did they plan to kill him? Some kind of Jutsu, maybe? A show for the crowd? He had a hard time believing Jiraiya would participate in something like this, but the others present were an entirely different matter.

Jiraiya stepped forward.

“We have gathered here to dispense justice for all the crimes this man and his allies committed against us.” He started, his voice amplified as well though not nearly as loud and jarring. The crowd was completely silent as they watched him with apt interest.

“A public execution, Sensei?” Nagato couldn’t help but question him. “I suppose it’s only fitting.” His voice, he noticed, was not amplified, but considering how quiet the crowd was they probably all heard him. Jiraiya ignored him.

“We have gathered to see justice done, in the way that would be most fitting considering his actions.” He continued.

Just what were they planning to do with him? Torture him first? Nagato sneered. He knew a lot about pain and he was capable of enduring a lot of it. If they expected that he would beg, they were sorely mistaken.

Jiraiya turned and went to the empty chair, sat down on it with exaggerated solemnity, then gestured to the ANBU to bring Nagato over to him. The Kages had drawn back and were watching the proceedings with just as much interest as the crowd.

Nagato pressed his pierced lips together and proudly lifted his chin, determined to meet his end with as much dignity as he could. Yahiko had been brave to the very end, he was going to be brave too.

“No, Nagato, we do not intend to execute you.” Jiraiya finally addressed him. There was a snicker behind Jiraiya, coming from the tiny Tsuchikage. Nagato glowered at him before Jiraiya’s voice forced him to focus on his former Sensei again. “Considering your actions, the fact that you released the souls of the Konoha citizens and you did so out of your own free will, we decided that killing you would be inappropriate.”

Nagato remained quiet, waiting for an explanation, too stunned to form a coherent response.

“However” Jiraiya continued. “You have perpetrated a number of other offenses which we couldn’t leave unanswered.” He pointed Nagato, his creased face more sad and disappointed than ever and the younger man fought the urge to cringe. Nagato had failed him, and Yahiko, and everyone else so spectacularly. He deserved whatever punishment his Sensei wished to mete out. “You have behaved like a child, Nagato, despite all your talk of growing up. You behaved like an immature brat throwing an extremely destructive tantrum.” Jiraiya took a deep, calming breath and proceeded. “And because you have behaved like a child, we decided that you are to be punished like one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sensei?!” he finally exclaimed, too confused and surprised to be able to hold his mouth shut any longer.

Jiraiya gestured to the ANBU again who brought him even closer, then pressed down and manhandled him until he was bent over Jiraiya’s lap, his Sensei’s hand over his back holding him down more securely than a steel bar pressing on him.

“What the?!” he yelled, outraged at being forced into such a position. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Jiraiya pulled Nagato’s shirt up until it rode above his waist, then grabbed the hem of his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, revealing his naked behind. The crowd around them snickered. Nagato was gaping in sheer outrage.

“How dare you…?!!” he roared, but he was cut short when the first slap landed squarely on the swell of his left buttock. He jerked, more in surprise than in pain. “You cannot do this!” he roared, but it was in vain because Jiraiya spanked him again, this time on the other side, the resounding sound of flesh hitting flesh deafening in the silence before more laughter erupted from the crowd.

“Let go of me this instant!” he demanded, absolutely furious at being treated like this, and in front of so many witnesses at that. He tried to struggle but Jiraiya had no problem holding him down as if he truly were a child, overpowering him completely.

“You, Nagato.” Jiraiya began as he slapped him again. “Have” slap “been” slap “a” slap “very” slap “naughty” slap “boy.” Slap. “And you’re being punished like one.”

Nagato couldn’t believe this was happening. The pain itself couldn’t even remotely compare to what he had endured after his Yahiko’s death, but the sheer humiliation of being treated like this, punished like this, in front of so many people hurt terribly, more than he could’ve possibly imagined. This wasn’t even a proper whipping, like an adult would’ve been subjected to as punishment for certain transgressions. He was being spanked like a bad little boy who had caused trouble and had disappointed his parents. He, the descendant of the Rikudou Sennin, the Kage of Amegakure, the Leader of Akatsuki, he was treated like a naughty brat, like a… Ooooh, his ass felt like it was on fire now. It must be as red as the clouds on his subordinates’ uniforms.

Nagato realized that he had tears of sheer humiliation sliding down his flushed cheeks, that he was making pained little moans and whimpers as Jiraiya spanked his ass again and again. He deserved this, he deserved it so much, for all he had done, for all the people he had betrayed and disappointed, yet why did it have to happen in front of all these people, who laughed and pointed at him, jeering and catcalling?

In a few minutes he was sobbing openly, not from the pain, even if it was considerable – Jiraiya-sensei had very strong hands – but from the sheer magnitude of the situation he was in, the sheer loss of his pride and dignity that was forced on him.

Finally, the slaps slowed down and stopped and to his utter horror he realized that he was aroused, the hard, heated rod of his erection pressed firmly against Jiraiya’s thighs. There was no way he unaware of it. Was it a purely physical reaction to the pain, an association he had long adopted in order to stay relatively sane after all he endured, or a reaction to Jiraiya-sensei touching him in such an intimate manner he could not say, nor did he wish to discover. Raw fear coursed through him as he imagined being forced to stand up and his captors displaying his state to the crowd furthering his humiliation even more and he whimpered in fright, voice broken, still choked by his sobs.

Still, Jiraiya’s hands on him were actually gentle as one of them came to rest on his head, petting him tenderly, the other carefully pulling his pants up and smoothing down his tunic. They weren’t going to show the crowd then, at least.

“Easy, my boy, easy. Breathe. It’s over for now.” Jiraiya soothed him gently.

For now?

“Your actions were deplorable, but if you endure your punishment, if you find humility in it, especially after your masquerade as a deity, I might find it in me to forgive you. And we’ll start over then.” Sensei gently patted his now clothed but still burning bottom. “I’m afraid we’ll have to repeat this every day for the next month though.”

A month!? They were going to subject him to this for a whole month?! Nagato was starting to think that he would’ve preferred an execution after all. Still, the prospect of a wiping the slate clean, of starting over…If this was a lesson Jiraiya wished to teach him to achieve that result, he was going to endeavor to learn it.