AN: This one was prompted by MDeamagogue on Twitter back when 'Michael' aired, and I've been putting it off in favour of other projects for too long.
Liberties are taken with Dalton Academy's rules and traditions for reasons of a fic-writing nature.
'Tristan' is the beatboxing Warbler played by Jon Hall
'Flint' is the other taller/broader Warbler played by Cord Jackman
Disclaimer: NOT. MINE.
Warnings: Mild violence. Corporal punishment. Caning.
Without further blathering on, my first ever season 3 Glee fic
Your Butt Is Mine
Sebastian smirked as he gazed out over the Warbler meeting room; the insubordination the Warblers had indulged in by joining McKinley's rag tag choir on stage had been crushed out of them through fear and intimidation, and they were now unable to meet his eyes. Perfect.
He turned to face the door as it abruptly slammed open, schooling his face into a superior expression as an Asian teen, probably a year or so older than him, strode into the room as though he owned it, hands clasped behind his back, giving him a somewhat forbidding posture. Sebastian fought to turn back to the rest of the room as he heard the Warblers release what sounded like a collective sigh of relief.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in my choir room?" Sebastian demanded, going on the offensive in response to the the serenely amused expression on the interloper's face.
The older teen rolled his eyes subtley, and his gaze flicked across the faces of all the Warblers in the room before returning to Sebastian. "My name is Wesley Hughes, Smythe, and I was head of the Warbler council last year. I received a series of disquieting telephone calls over the last several days and thought it best to come back and check up on my old alma mater. I just had an illuminating discussion with the Headmaster, and he's asked me to pass on his congratulations to you personally Sebastian."
Sebastian preened at the apparent praise, and Wes gave a feral smirk as he continued, "Congratulations on single-handedly getting the Warblers as a club disbanded."
The Warblers blinked at each other at this news, before they all began to speak at once, voices echoing in the excellent acoustics of the meeting room.
"Silence." Wes' voice was calm and clear, and carried an inexorable weight of authority that needed no gavel to enforce his simple, concise instruction.
"According to the founding charter of the Dalton Academy Warblers, the club is permitted to work without faculty oversight due to the existence of the Council, a triumvirate of members elected from within the club whose role is to oversee song selection, rehearsal and performance, and to ensure that the Warblers adhere to the Academy code of conduct, so as to not bring shame on this institution."
Sebastian had recovered his sneer, and opened his mouth to begin laying into Wes, but was cut off by a truly vicious twist of the older boy's lips, "With your self-promotion to the fallacious position of 'Captain', thus bypassing the authority of the Council, you have violated this founding charter, rendering the club in need of a faculty sponsor. The Headmaster has already canvassed all members of the faculty, and in the wake of the Warblers' atrocious behaviour towards the competition, and most especially to two former members of this group, none of the faculty are willing to be associated with the Warblers. As such, the Headmaster has declared that as of right now, the Dalton Academy Warblers no longer exist."
Crest-fallen expressions began to show on the faces of Warblers around the room, while Sebastian had a calculating look in his eyes, face twisting with low cunning, trying to figure out his exit strategy from this mess. Wes licked his lips, he was going to enjoy this next part.
"The Headmaster has reluctantly assented to a seperate alternative to disbandment, as I convinced him it was unfair to punish you all for Sebastian's crimes. First, Sebastian Smythe is to be expelled from this club, and a new Council is to be elected, one which will have the backbone to prevent this situation ever developing again. Second, the Warblers will issue a public apology to the New Directions, and to Kurt and Blaine personally, for the damage inflicted in this recent bout of show choir conflict. Even Vocal Adrenaline never resorted to blinding the competition! Third, before his ignominious removal from the group, I have received personal instructions from the Headmaster as to Sebastian's punishment. And before you start blustering Smythe, you have no recourse, all students at Dalton are subject to its rules and traditions, all parents are informed of possible consequences to their offspring before they pay tuition."
Unclasping his hands from behind his back, Wes revealed what he had thus far been concealing, a slender, polished cane, which several of the more troublesome Warblers recognised as one that usually hung on the wall of the Headmaster's office, a silent reminder that Dalton still officially practiced corporal punishment for severe infractions.
The colour drained from Sebastian's expression at the sight of the cane, and he backed away until he hit the Council table, eyes wide. "For knowingly violating the charter of the Warblers, assaulting two members of our competition, one of them a former student of Dalton, the other a female guest of the Academy and for multiple counts of sexual harrassment against your fellow students, the Headmaster has decreed you are to receive twenty strokes from the cane."
Sebastian bolted for the door, but was stopped by a literal wall of bodies as the Warblers moved to cut off his escape route, faces grim. "Tristan. Flint. If you would be so good as to restrain Sebastian and bring him over here." Wes moved to stand by the Council table, eyes deadly.
The two taller, stronger Warblers, pinned Sebastian's arms behind his back then marched him over to the Council table, Wes silently indicating how he wanted them to position Sebastian. The slippery teen eventually ended up bent over the edge of the table, Flint stood at the other side pinning both his hands flat to the wooden surface while Tristan quickly and efficiently pulled Sebastian's uniform slacks and briefs down to pool around his ankles, effectively immobilising his legs. Once this was done Tristan moved round to the other side, next to Flint, and took custody of one of Sebastian's hands. With both the stronger teens restraining his hands, and his legs trapped, Sebastian was at Wes' mercy.
Wes ran his hand down the polished length of the cane, and gave it a couple of test swings, the thwap noise it made travelling through the air making the collected Warblers cringe, and bringing tears to Sebastian's eyes. Without warning, he brought the cane down hard across Sebastian's buttocks, startling a scream from the other boy, and leaving a red mark on his skin. Wes' arm rose and fell almost robotically, laying blow after blow on yielding flesh, varying the time between strokes to heighten the anticipatory terror, and changing the angle of impact to ensure that not one inch of Sebastian's ass escaped the punishing blows. On the twentieth and final strike Wes brought the cane down between Sebastian's buttocks, laying a stripe of fire right up the crack of his ass, and causing him to let out a broken sob.
When Wes stepped back, he noted clinically that Sebastian's ass was glowing cherry red, and he could almost feel the heat radiating off the abused flesh. Moving to pull Smythe's briefs and slacks back up, Wes was stunned to notice that the other teen's cock was hard as a rock, and there was a considerable smear of precum on the surface of the table where he'd obviously been rubbing himself throughout the caning. Pulling the briefs back up, and quietly relishing Smythe's hiss of pain as the fabric settled over his already bruising ass, Wes quickly leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You're going to leave Blaine and Kurt, hell everyone from McKinley alone from now on Smythe, the Warblers too. In fact I'd recommend you try and become a quiet little wallflower of a student until you graduate."
Though he was in pain, Sebastian found the strength to mutter back, "And if I don't?"
Wes pulled the slacks back up, and deliberately ground the palm of his hand over Sebastian's cock as he re-buttoned them. He gestured for Tristan and Flint to release his hands and as Smythe stood and faced him Wes simply gave him a significant look, a look which carried the suggestion of public announcements of Sebastian's personal kinks that would probably lead to his father disowning and disinheriting him. A look of defeat entered Sebastian's eyes, and he turned and trudged towards the door, head bowed, shoulders slumped.
As he left the room for the last time, he heard a much more chipper-voiced Wes announcing, "As this whole mess was based on who was going to do Michael Jackson for Regionals, I think the Jackson 5 song 'I Want You Back' would be an appropriate choice for an apology to Kurt and Blaine. Nick, you should take the lead. Then we'll discuss how the new Council had best have enough balls to smack down anyone else who tries to pull what that upstart Smythe did."
The door swung shut behind Sebastian, and as he made his way to his room, planning to soak his ass in a cold bath for a few days til the stinging pain went away, he reflected that as hot as Blaine was, fucking his sweet preppy ass wasn't worth all this.
AN: *cackles and rubs hands together* Not my usual fare, but that was fun to write. Hope MDemagogue and everyone else enjoy it."