Warning: mild language (this IS Kenny, after all) and spanking
Chapter 3: A Hard Lesson
Kenny's eyes opened and he sat up quickly. Looking around, he found himself on a sofa in the middle of a familiar looking living room. Sitting on the coffee table, staring at him was MacLeod.
"Where's—" he started to ask, but MacLeod interrupted him.
"He won't be bothering you anymore," the man said, simply, shrugging.
Kenny's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why'd you help me?" he asked, sneering.
"Because I don't condone murder," the Highlander told him. "Challenging someone is one thing, but shooting them and then taking their head is completely different."
Kenny snorted at that. "Well, thanks, I guess," he said, not really sounding too grateful, "but I'm outta here." He hopped off the sofa and headed towards the lift.
MacLeod stood up. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked him, raising an inquiring eyebrow.
That stopped Kenny short. "What do you care?" he asked sneeringly.
MacLeod's jaw tightened. "I was just curious," he said, "about how long you can keep up what you've been doing?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kenny asked.
"I mean look at you," MacLeod told him. "It's obvious you haven't been eating properly, you're filthy, you're clothes are ripped and filthy, and you most certainly could do with a bath."
Kenny snorted. "Whatever," he said, and turned to leave again.
"How many headhunters have come after you lately?" MacLeod asked next, taking a step forward.
Again, Kenny stopped. "None of your business," he snarled back at the other Immortal.
MacLeod nodded. "That's what I thought," he said. "Aren't you tired of it yet, Kenny? Always running! Always hiding! Always hunted! Why don't you trust someone for once and stay some where safe?"
"Safe! You mean, with you," Kenny sneered. "You killed your own student, MacLeod! And actually liked him!"
MacLeod's jaw tightened further. "Don't speak of that," he ordered, sternly, "and that has nothing to do with right now. Think about it, Kenneth? If I had wanted to take your head, don't you think I'd have just taken it while you were unconscious?"
"Don't call me that," Kenny told him, crossing his arms over his chest.
MacLeod raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" He asked. "It is your name, after all."
"So, no one calls me that," Kenny told him, stubbornly.
MacLeod grinned. "I think you don't like to be called that because it makes you feel like a kid," he said, smirking, "doesn't it, Kenneth?"
Kenny snarled. "I said," he said, angry now, "don't call me that!" Without really thinking, he charged at the Highlander.
MacLeod easily caught his wrists and moved out of range so that he couldn't kick him. "For someone who is eight hundred years old," he commented, "you're doing a marvelous imitation of a little spoiled brat!"
"Shut the H up!" Kenny snarled at him, struggling to get loose. "I'm not a D kid and you know it!"
"Really?" MacLeod said, grinning, "I don't know any such thing. All I see right now is a little boy in need of a good spanking."
Kenny snarled again, kicking out. This time, he managed to connect with the man's shins. He gave him a satisfied smirk when he saw him clench his teeth, only to loose the smirk when he saw the dangerous look he was giving him.
"You know what, Kenneth," MacLeod told him, "I think I'm going to give you what you deserve." He then dragged him back toward the sofa.
Kenny knew what he intended to do and dug his heels in every step of the way. "Over my very dead body," he snarled, struggling but to no avail.
"There's only one part of your body you should be worried about," MacLeod told him, sitting down, "and that's you're a!" With one quick jerk, he had him sprawled across his knees.
"MacLeod," Kenny snarled, kicking his feet and trying to get free, "you're so dead for this! I'm going to cut off your head—OW!" The smack that landed on his upturned backside stung all the way through his blue jeans.
"Someone should have done this a long time ago, Kenneth," MacLeod told him, raising his hand again.
SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!
"OW! AH!" Kenny cried out as seven very hard smack landed in the same spot on his "sit" spot. "If you think this is going to change anything, MacLeod you're F kidding yourself! OW!" A very sharp smack had landed on a particularly sore spot.
"It seems you're body isn't the only thing that could stand a good scrubbing," MacLeod told him, raising his hand again.
SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!
Kenny's butt had begun to sting now, and it didn't seem like the stupid Highlander was going to stop anytime soon. He felt tears began to sting his eyes, but he WASN'T going give the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
"You know," MacLeod told him, as he continued to rein smacks down, "part of the problem is that you won't accept the simple fact that you ARE a kid."
"I'M NOT A KID, YOU M…HEY!" Kenny's outraged rant was cut off when he felt the Highlander reach underneath him and undo his jeans. He then felt the man's hand move to the waist band at the back and pull them down, along with his underwear.
"Not nearly red enough," MacLeod commented, staring at the boy's bare backside, "we'll need to do something about that." He raised his hand back.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Kenny had thought the smacks had hurt on his jean covered behind, but it was nothing compared to what they felt like on his bare a. His butt felt like it was literally on fire and tears had begun to roll down his face.
"Didn't your parents teach you manners?" MacLeod asked him, as he continued to assault his rear end. "Didn't they teach you anything about respect?"
"No," Kenny snarled at him. "OW!"
"See," MacLeod said, frowning, "that's exactly what put you in this position in the first place." He raised his hand again.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Kenny couldn't take any more. "All right," he cried out, "I'm sorry! Just STOP already!"
MacLeod looked down at the boy's butt. It was a deep dark shade of red that on a "normal" child would have caused bruising, but because the child in question was an Immortal would not take long to heal. Pulling the brat's pants back up, he pulled him off is lap but held on to him.
"You've been left on your own for far too long, Kenneth," he told him, "and that's stops right now. You ARE going to stay here whether you want to or not. You'll keep a civil tongue in your head and you'll do as you're told…or I'll blister your backside each and every time you don't! Do you understand me?"
Kenny glared, wiping furiously at the tears falling down his face. "You have to sleep sometime, MacLeod," he threatened, though what sort of threat he wasn't sure.
MacLeod's jaw clenched again. Turning him around, he delivered three very sharp smacks to his backside, causing him to yelp. "I said," he spoke, getting in his face, "DO…YOU…UNDERSTAND?" The "because I can always turn you back across my knee if you don't" was left out, but it was heard none the less.
Kenny winced, his a really did hurt. "Yes," he said, "all right. I understand."
MacLeod nodded and stood up. "You are going to go in that bathroom and take a shower," he ordered, pointing at the appropriate door. "While you're in there, I'll make us something to eat. After that, we're going sit down and talk about things. Go." He turned him around and gave him a little shove in that direction.
Kenny couldn't believe this. No one had treated him like this, EVER! Sure, there had been those gullible idiots whose heads he'd taken, but none of them thought to treat him like this. They were always like "you know, son" or "come on, Kenny, let me show you". Then of course, the only things the head hunters were after was his head and an easy quickening. He wasn't exactly sure WHY he was doing what the Highlander was telling him to do, but he knew he didn't want his butt to receive any more of the man's "attention".
That was it, self-preservation. He was good at that. He could take whatever the Highlander dished out.
But it still hurt like H!
Ow!
TBC…
