...
Neal watched Peter closely. He'd been so anxious this entire conversation that he hadn't really gotten a read on his boss. Peter seemed to reach some sort of conclusion because he nodded firmly. "Okay, then, Neal. I'm going to help you to follow my rules. I'm going spank you for your disobedience today, and maybe that will help you choose wisely tomorrow."
Peter walked over the couch. "You want to close your curtains?" He sat down and looked at Neal expectantly.
"Wait. Wait, Peter. Right now?" Neal felt the air leave him in a big whoosh.
"Yes, right now." Peter undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He gave a stern look to Neal.
Neal moved in a daze to the windows, and pulled shut the heavy curtains.
"Neal, come here." Peter's voice had changed to one of complete authority. Neal swallowed. His feet seemed to move of their own volition.
"Alright, Neal, before we start, do you know why you're getting a spanking?" Peter looked at him expectantly.
Neal, however, was studiously avoiding eye-contact with Peter. "I can guess."
"Okay. Tell me why you think you deserve a spanking." Peter put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the couch.
"I hid information from you about Keller. I pouted in the office after you scolded me for it. I ran out of the surveillance van even after you told me not to. I ignored your text warnings about Frank Ammon and engaged him anyway. But, Peter, it worked out! I don't think I deserve a spanking for those things. Today was a big win for White Collar Division." Neal's voice had a bit of panic in it. He wondered how he'd never noticed just how big Peter's hands were before now. And immediately on the heels of that thought was, "what if he uses something other than his hands to spank me?"
"No, Neal. I'm spanking you because you disobeyed me. Bad choices aren't suddenly okay just because everything turned out good this time. Do you understand?"
Neal shifted from foot to foot in front of Peter. Even though he was standing up, looking down at Peter, he felt small. He finally spoke, "The ends don't justify the means."
Peter nodded, satisfied that Neal understood. "Yes. Take off your pants and jacket." Neal hesitated, until Peter spoke, almost gently. "Come on, kid, I don't want to be responsible for wrinkling up your precious Sy Devore suit."
Neal's fingers trembled slightly as he unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his pants. He felt completely vulnerable in his bright, kingfisher-blue boxers. After a second of consideration, he pulled off his socks. Peter raised his eyebrows, and Neal said defensively, "I feel dumb with my socks on and no pants."
Neal placed his jacket and pants on the coffee table, and after another second of consideration, he pulled his tie loose and slipped it off, too.
"Alright. Neal, I'm going to spank you how my father spanked me. If I had done something really serious, he did use his belt. Just keep that in mind when you're over my knees today, that this is not as painful as it can be." Peter had no intention of taking a belt to Neal, but he knew that the threat would stay with him for a very long time.
Neal involuntary moved backward. Peter sighed in exasperation and motioned Neal back in place with his signature two-finger summons. He stopped several feet away, but Peter beckoned him closer, until he was standing right next to him. Neal's hands were fluttering at his sides. He felt like he was a little kid, again, and he did not like that feeling at all.
"C'mon, kid." Peter pulled gently on Neal's wrist. Neal was trying to talk himself through this, telling himself that it wasn't going to really hurt, that it'd only last for a little bit, that it wasn't going to be so bad. He carefully lowered himself across Peter's lap. Peter tucked a throw pillow under Neal's chest. "Here, that'll make it more comfortable for you, holding onto that."
Peter shifted his legs to more evenly distribute Neal's weight across his upper thighs. Neal felt powerless. He felt himself start to panic until Peter rested his hand in the small of his back. At Peter's touch, calm flooded his body. Even if this hurt, he knew Peter wouldn't harm him. As odd as it was, considering he was about to get spanked, Neal felt safe.
"Alright, Neal, just so we're clear, one last time. Why are you getting this spanking?"
Neal mumbled, "I hid something from you and I disobeyed your instructions." Neal's heartbeat was racing.
"Yes. You did. And you won't do it again." Peter slid a thumb under Neal's boxer waistband and gently tugged them down. Neal reached back in a panic, but Peter gave him an extremely hard swat. Neal froze and sucked air in a gasp. He wasn't expecting a single slap to hurt that much. For the first time he started to ignore his embarrassment and worry that maybe this was really going to hurt.
"I need to see where I'm spanking, Neal. That's all." At Peter's reassurances Neal let go of his boxers. Neal's pale cheeks were reddening slightly at Peter's initial slap.
Peter wrapped his arm around Neal's waist, pulling him tightly against his lap to hold him still, and without any other warning he unleashed a volley of slaps that quickly had Neal flexing his legs. Peter stopped to scold. "Neal, I can't express how frustrated I get when you keep dangerous information from me." Peter punctuated his next sentence with hard smacks, alternating between Neal's cheeks. "I! will! not! tolerate! this! type! of! behavior! anymore!"
"Do you understand me?" Peter continued spanking, alternating between Neal's "sit spots" and "spank spots." Neal started squirming, kicking his legs in earnest. In response, Peter simply tightened his grip on Neal's waist. Peter didn't slow down, and asked again, "Do you understand me!?"
Gasping for breath, Neal blurted out amidst his spanking, "Yes! Yes Peter-sir! I understand! I won't keep stuff from you! I won't! I promise! I won't!" Peter finally stopped spanking. He ran his hand over Neal's bottom to gently rub out the sting. Neal's breathing slowed considerably during the small reprieve. His bottom was a bright cherry red, now. Unfortunately for Neal, Peter wasn't done.
"Neal. What's the second reason you're getting a spanking?" Peter waited expectantly.
Neal closed his eyes against the embarrassment of the whole situation and muttered, "Because I didn't do what you told me to do. I mean, I did something after you told me not to do it."
"That's right. And that is going to stop. Immediately. I want to trust you when we go out on field work, but I can't as long as you disobey my instructions."
"Peter. Don't you think that's enough?" Neal's voice held a small tone of panic, and he tried to cover his bottom with his hand. Peter tapped Neal's wrist. "Move it, Neal."
After a moment of intense internal debate, Neal tucked his hand underneath the pillow Peter had given him, and tucked it to his chest, leaving his bottom defenseless against Peter's hand. Peter resumed his lecture. "This is for disobeying me." He began spanking Neal again.
Neal yelped at the sudden pain, and quickly clamped his mouth shut. He was a grown man-and grown men don't make noises like that. It didn't take long before Neal realized he was close to tears. He buried his face in the crook of his arm, determined not to let Peter see him cry. Peter alternated cheeks, not missing a beat despite Neal's increased struggling. Neal forgot his pride entirely as the heat turned into a painful burn-he was soon yelping and yelling despite his best attempts at self-control. It wasn't long before he started twisting and kicking, trying to get out of Peter's grasp. He started pleading, and making promises-in his desperation he'd say anything if Peter would just stop already. "I'm sorry, Peter, I'm sorry! I'll listen from now on! I mean it! I promise! Please stop! Please, sir! Peter! I'm sorry, I said I'm sorry!"
Peter, however, was relentless. He knew, from his own personal experiences over his father's lap that he was nowhere close to making his point understood with Neal. As long as Neal was struggling and fighting against the spanking, Peter was determined that this spanking would continue. Neal had to learn to submit to Peter's authority-the sooner, the better. Peter was determined that Neal learn that lesson now, in the safe confines of this room. He hadn't been able to teach it to him by arresting him, jailing him, putting a tracking anklet on him-but maybe, just maybe, he could teach him that lesson with a sound spanking.
After another minute, Peter stopped and again gently ran his hand over Neal's bottom to lessen the sting. Peter had hated it when his dad took these small breaks in the middle of the spanking to lecture him or drive a point home. He realized now, as the spanker, why his father had done it. It gave him a second to rest his hand-which he'd never admit to Neal, but it stung!-and, by allowing Neal a second to collect himself, Peter could shift Neal's attention away from his panicked struggling against the pain and redirect his focus back to the reason he was getting a spanking (and how to avoid one in the future).
Peter's hands were so big, and Neal was so skinny, that he could nearly cover a cheek with his hand. After Neal's breathing slowed and he lay still over his lap, indicating to Peter that the pain was at a manageable level, Peter tapped Neal's cheek. He felt Neal's whole body tense.
"How many times did you disobey my instructions today?"
Neal pleaded, "I won't do it again! I learned my lesson, Peter!" Peter rolled his eyes and cracked his open palm against Neal's poor bottom.
"That's not what I asked."
Neal was stubbornly silent, determined not to answer and thus earn himself more swats, so Peter slapped his bottom again.
"Okay! I left the van. And then I went to talk to Ammon anyway." Peter nodded, satisfied that Neal knew exactly what incident Peter was about to address.
"Probably more than those two times, because I sent you a ton of text messages and called who knows how many times…" He smiled when he felt Neal struggle against his observation. "But we'll just count two, for today. So, this is for the second time you disobeyed me."
And with that, Peter lifted his arm and began to lay into Neal's bottom for the third time.
It only took a few swats before Neal was again struggling and pleading. Peter didn't stop though, and in no time at all Neal again had tears running down his face. It was a testament to the amount of fire Peter had put into his bottom that Neal didn't even consider the ignominy of Peter seeing him cry like a little boy.
"Please, Peter, please!" Neal gasped out promises to "never disobey again!" and assurances that he was "really sorry!"
Peter scolded Neal as his hand continued to turn Neal's red bottom shades darker, "I am tired of you ignoring my instructions. Tired of you getting yourself in trouble. You could've been seriously hurt today! No more! Do you understand me, Neal! No more!"
After another minute, Neal quit struggling, and just slumped over Peter's lap, tears running down his face. Peter immediately stopped, and rubbed Neal's back as he calmed down. He pulled Neal's boxers back up over his bottom. Neal tensed as the fabric touched his red and tender backside. It was then that he realized Peter wasn't spanking him anymore. He struggled to control his breathing, but it still came in fits and gasps. He rubbed his eyes, embarrassed now at the tears that were still falling.
Peter gently scooped Neal up and deposited him on the couch next to him-for an old man, Peter was very physically fit and was able to move the young man around without much effort. He held Neal close, his arm around Neal's shaking shoulders. Peter twisted around, so that he could pull Neal tight against his chest in a comforting embrace. Neal tucked his face against Peter's neck. His breath came in little gasps as he struggled to stop crying.
"I'm sorry, Peter." Neal whimpered into Peter's chest. He clutched at his bottom until Peter gently smacked the back of his hands.
"I know it stings, but that's part of getting a spanking," he admonished. Neal sniffled and tucked his hands between Peter's chest and his.
Peter rubbed Neal's back. "I forgive you, Neal." He held Neal until his breathing slowed and the tears stopped.
Peter held him for a moment longer, until he was sure Neal was calm again. "Okay. You want to get dressed now?" Peter walked to the kitchen to give Neal some semblance of privacy. He sat down at the table and fiddled with the calligraphy set. Neal walked up to him and stood quietly at his side, miserable and dejected. Peter had to suppress a smile—he'd never seen Neal look so disheveled. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned and not fully tucked in. He seemed to radiate timidity and insecurity. Peter felt a stab of guilt that he did this to his ebullient and high-spirited Neal. He knew, intellectually, that this was just Neal recovering from an emotional spanking, but Peter still felt responsible.
Peter remembered his own childhood spankings. His father had a small routine to help reassure Peter that he was forgiven and that everything was okay between them. Peter remembered that his father held him until he finished crying, and then would send him to go wash his face. Afterward they would sit on the couch, his father's arm around him, and share a drink of chocolate milk. After that small routine Peter knew the discipline was over, and he was forgiven. He realized with a sudden start that Neal needed to know those same things: he was forgiven, Peter wasn't still angry, the punishment was finished. Neal had no way of knowing that there wouldn't be other repercussions for his actions. He thought that Neal might especially be worried that Peter was going to abandon him, because going back to jail was a fear he'd vocalized before the spanking started. Peter, however, was unsure how to go about alleviating Neal's fears.
Peter looked at Neal, who was still standing, subdued, by his side. He seemed to be waiting on Peter to give him direction.
After a few seconds of thought, Peter asked, "Neal, did you eat dinner before I came over?"
"No, Peter. Sir." Neal's voice was quiet and unsure.
"Why don't you go take a shower and put on some comfortable pajamas, and I'll reheat something you've got in the fridge or go pick up some take-out?"
Neal shrugged and looked down at his feet. "Okay. Don Antonio's pizza is really good. They'll deliver."
Peter stood up and placed his hands on Neal's shoulders. "Hey. I forgive you. I love you. I'm not going to abandon you or send you back to prison. I don't want to see you hurt. Okay?"
When Neal finally looked up at Peter, his lips were quirked in a small grin. "Well, did anyone explain to you that spankings really hurt?"
Peter rolled his eyes and pulled Neal in for a quick hug, and then spun him around so he was facing the bathroom. "Go shower and get ready for bed, son. I'll get dinner." Peter gave his bottom a quick, and gentle, swat.
"Okay! I'm going." Neal scampered out of Peter's reach.
Author's Note:
Okay guys, I'm nervous for all sorts of reasons in posting this chapter...constructive feedback is welcome! There will be one chapter after this one-an epilogue. I'll get it posted soon, I promise! Before the weekend has ended.