Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. No money is being made off this story, it's just for fun.
Author Notes: This idea is something I was wrestling with for a long time, and I just need to thank Beguile who as my Beta Reader basically held my hand and encouraged me the entire way, so not only does she have my undying love and devotion, but she basically owns me now. This story deals with Corporal Punishment, and may in future chapters get a little violent and rough. Please take this as your advisory.
Chapter 1: The Cut
Henry "Mutt" Jones leaned against the sink in the empty boys' bathroom, a slightly bloody paper towel clenched in his left hand. The second floor bathroom was more often than not deserted, which was why Mutt came here.
It had begun simply enough, if Professor Jonathan Xanderson felt you were goofing off in his English class, he would give you a rap with a ruler on their hands or wrists. Yet after years of being a teacher, it seemed that power had gone to his head. When Xanderson decided he did not like a student, the hits became harder, and more frequent. Unfortunately for Mutt, Xanderson did not like him.
Mutt took a moment to study the cut in the palm of his hand. The cut was no longer bleeding, but when he tried making a fist experimentally blood began to ooze out of the wound once more.
Mutt gave a dejected sigh and pushed the paper towel back into his hand. It would clot soon enough. His more pressing problem was what to tell his parents. He could not very well tell them he was hit because he was copying his notes down to fast. That excuse was lame even to his ears, even if that was exactly what had happened. His parents would never believe he hadn't done something to provoke it. To make matters worse, Mutt was a bad liar. His mother had always been able to see right through any lie he tried to tell. Anything he told them would only lead to disappointment. He was trying to do
right by his parents, he was going to school, he was bringing home fairly good grades, he could handle this.
He studied the cut again. It wasn't big enough to draw a ton of attention as long as he could cover it up first. If he could keep his parents from seeing the palm of his hand, even better. If they couldn't see it, he could explain it away with an accident. His parents wouldn't think twice about that. He could just ask the school nurse for a large band aid.
With that worry shoved to the back of his mind, Mutt tossed out the bloodied paper towel before shouldering his book bag and heading back towards the ground floor. He would make it down just in time for the lunch bell to end, and then he would only need to make it through two more classes before he could finally go home. He made a quick detour to get the band aid from the nurse before slowly making his way down to the lunchroom. He wouldn't have time to eat but at least no one would ask him where he was the whole time. By the time the day was finally over, Mutt wanted nothing more than to go
home, pull the sheets up over his head and never get up. His hand was throbbing due to the constant use of it, and he knew it was only going to get worse trying to ride his motorcycle home. He sighed, kicking a loose pebble as he went. At least it was not bleeding through the bandage. Once he finished his homework and had dinner he could finally stop and relax.
He slid onto his motorcycle before roaring out of the schools parking lot. Mutt had bellowed out he was home, before pounding down the hall into his room. As was his habit, he started on his homework immediately. This was not something his father had insisted upon, just something Mutt did. He would rather get it all out of the way so he could do whatever he wanted after dinner. He had almost finished when his mother called him for dinner. He slid easily into his normal seat, sliding his hands down into his lap.
Dinner went smoothly, he listened to his parents make small talk about their work day, answering any questions they sent his way. He picked at his food, it wasn't that the food wasn't good, he just had no real appetite. His mother barely noticed as she chatted away with his father, but he would shovel a bit of food into his mouth, whenever his father frowned at the amount of food on his plate. When his mother asked him to do the dishes before finishing up his homework, he agreed a little too quickly. His father sent him a suspicious glance, but Mutt shrugged it off, collecting the plates as his parents moved off to continue their talk.
Mutt was almost done with the dishes, drying off a glass when he accidentally struck his cut with the rim of the glass. Before he could stop himself he let out a small gasp and the glass slipped from his fingers, and shattered on the floor. He stifled a groan, and grabbed a dustpan and small broom before kneeling down to clean up the glass.
He heard the heavy footfalls of his father, feeling before seeing him appear in the doorway. He glanced up and forced himself to give his father a sheepish look. He opened his mouth to apologize, but his father spoke before he could.
"What happened to your hand?"