I sat on the couch waiting for Peter who had disappeared upstairs as soon as we had entered his home.
I knew that what I had done was wrong, but I couldn't help it. The painting was just so tempting. All I had to do was forge a replica, walk in, make the switch, and leave. I hadn't thought about what would happen if I were found out.
Luckily it had only been Peter who had found out. He had seen the forgery in my apartment and he completely blew his top.
He was furious and had grabbed me by the arm, dragged me all the way down the stairs and out to the car.
During the drive, there was complete silence except for the angry breathing from Peter. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, beginning to get slightly worried for my life.
It took me a while to realize that Peter was taking me to his house and not the bureau.
That really confused me . I had no idea why Peter would be taking me there instead of the bureau. He had just seen incriminating evidence in my apartment.
It also gave me some hope though that Peter would not send me back to prison. Maybe he wouldn't even tell the higher ups in the FBI.
When we arrived at the house, Peter once again dragged me inside by the arm. He told me to sit on the couch and then stormed upstairs without even looking to see whether I followed his order or not.
And now, here we are.
Me sitting on the couch with no idea what was going on. I thought about getting up and just walking out the door, but I thought that that would just make him more angry so I stayed where I was.
And lucky me, because I heard Peter coming down the stairs right then.
I turned my head to look at him and saw that he had changed and was also much calmer.
He walked towards me and ordered to stand up.
I debated standing up or not, but then I looked at his face again and immediately complied.
"Neal," he began, "I cannot believe that you could be so stupid!" His voice was ice cold and got louder as he continued to speak. "How could you risk getting your butt thrown back in prison like this! Don't you want to be set free!"
I couldn't even look at him as he reprimanded him.
Then I heard, "Neal, look at me."
I couldn't.
"Look at me," Peter repeated, this time his voice was softer, gentler. A hand went under my chin and Peter lifted my head until I was looking him in the eye. He took my arm and tugged me down onto the couch while he sat next to me.
"Neal, you can't keep risking everything like this, so I am going to try to teach you that you can't. Do you understand me?"
I looked at him, a little confused about him 'teaching' me.I shook my head in response to his question and asked, "How are you going to teach me Pter?"
"By giving you guidelines and consequences."
My eyes widened at the last word, "Consequences!" I squeaked. "What kind of consequences."
Peter didn't answer for a moment before asking "Neal, how did your parents punish you?"
I laughed at that and said, "Peter, my parents didn't punish me. They didn't care what I did."
"What?," Peter asked, staring at me. "Well that explains the way you are." After thinking again for a moment he said, "Okay, we can talk about rules and punishments later. For right now I am going to spank you for your most recent illegal action."
My eyes went wide again and I started to edge away from Peter but I wasn't fast enough as he reached out and grabbed my arm. "Peter," I said, "I don't think that's really necessary."
"It's not, huh?"
"Peter, spankings are for children, not adults. And I've never been spanked before." I admitted this last part quietly, showing Peter that I was actually scared of being spanked.
"Neal," he said, equally quietly. "Do you trust me?"
I stared into his eyes for a minute before whispering, "Yes."
"Alright," he responded. "Then lets get this done before El gets home, okay."
Gently he tugged me forward by the wrists so that I lay across his lap. He moved me around a bit until he and I were both comfortable. But when I felt his hand go to the waistband of my pants, I squealed and reached back to try to stop him.
"Neal, I need to be able to see what I'm doing so that I don't hurt you," he said softly.
I whimpered but pulled my hand away and grabbed for a pillow to hold onto instead as Peter pulled down my pants and boxers.
Moments later, I felt the first swat land. I whimpered and hid my face in my pillow.
Peter continued with the spanking silently. He made sure to get every inch of the skin on both my bottom and upper thighs. He paid special attention to the sit spots between the thigh and bottom and went over everywhere three times before it ended. By this time I was crying so hard that I didn't even notice Peter pulling my boxers up over my well-spanked bottom and began to rub my back.
When I had calmed down enough, he lifted me up and helped me to kick my pants the rest of the way off and then sat me on his lap, positioning me so that my bottom and upper thighs were in between his legs. He once again had me look at him and spoke softly, "Neal, I need you to understand that there are people who love you and who can't lose you. El and I love you like a son and I don't want to have to send you back to prison."
This only made me start crying again.
Peter held me close and whispered reassuring things until I stopped and then he set me back up on my feet and stood up. Giving me one last hug, he said, "Go upstairs and clean up. El should be home soon and then we can eat dinner."
I gulped. Somehow, dinner didn't seem very appealing at the moment.
Peter chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Don't worry. We can put a pillow on your seat."
I smiled at him and went up the stairs to clean up.
