Dio leans over your shoulder, looking down in disgust at the plate, full of the golden yellow grain. “You,” he starts, whispering coolly, “Better eat that.”

“No.” Was all you said in reply. You knew Dio didn’t like when you disobeyed, but the corn? It was too much, this was starting to become too much.

He took your chin in his hand and pulled your head to face him, “You better eat it, right now, or else.”

You looked down at the plate again, it was all just a bunch of sickly yellow crumbs to you. You had no desire to directly disobey his commands, but you also had no desire to put even one spoonful of it in your mouth. This was a corn-free zone, thank you.

Dio raised his eyebrow, when you had lingered too long on your decision. “Well?”

“Lord Dio, I- I can’t.”

A smirk formed on his lips, the sharp point of his fang barely visible in the dim light of the dining room. “Useless. Completely and utterly useless.” Dio patted his lap, “Come here.”

You got up from your spot and meandered over to him, anxious for what was to come, but all too knowing of it as well. You lied on your stomach on top of his knees and hung on the the legs of the chair below you.

“Good,” he murmured, “you can do something right for once.” Dio raised his hand in the air, letting it hover a second, before bringing it down, hard, on your rear. He then continued for the next one, and the next one, until your ass was sore, and then some more.

After each and every strike, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp or moan, which eventually escalated into a scream as he became more brutal with the punishment. Relentlessly, and quite literally, beating your ass into submission.

Halfway through, you could feel a bulge poking at your chest, and you knew this was about to go further than a punishment. After what seemed like ages of constant strikes, he stopped, and you knew it was time.

“On your knees,” Dio commanded, and you quickly complied. It was time for you to eat something other than the grain you oh, so despised.

He stood in front of you, looked down and waited, “Well? You know what to do, pet.”

Your fingers reached for the waistband of his atrocious outfit (that he somehow managed to pull  off fairly well). You pulled it down, slowly, teasingly, until you were face to face with-

A corn on the cob?