Pairing: Klaus/Damon (M/m) hand, bath brush
"Govern a family as you would cook a small fish – very gently."
-Chinese proverb
Mystic Falls, Virginia
Mikaelson Guest House
Sunday Afternoon
May 6, 1855
Damon sunk into the now lukewarm water and scrubbed the dust and sweat from his body. The servants had left a lavender scented soap, a wash cloth, a wooden scrub brush, and a large cotton towel on the chest by the wooden bathtub. They surely had fine things here, Damon mused. Damon knew his Father was wealthy, but he was at times frugal, having grown up poor. The Mikaelsons seemed to have the best of everything and lots of it. Damon washed his hair hastily and wondered if he would smell like a flower when he got out of the bath. Their servants at home made their soap out of lye and fat from the slaughtered animals, it never smelled this fine.
Damon rose from the water and wrapped the towel around his waist. He found a pair of light cotton pajamas on folded neatly on the bed. Since his other clothes were dirty, he had no choice but to put the pajamas on although it was still afternoon. Damon caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the dresser. He face flamed brightly at the sight of himself in the light blue night clothes. They made him look like a little boy, especially with his dark hair dripping wet. He had not worn pajamas in the daytime since the last time he was ill with fever. There had been a terrible yellow fever outbreak the summer before, but it had not affected Veritas Estate, Damon had just had a summer sickness.
A light tap on the door broke Damon out of his reverie. "Come in," he called with his voice cracking.
Klaus peeked in, "Feeling better? We shall either send for your clothes or fetch the tailor soon. Rebekah got one of those new sewing machines a few months back, but she will make you look like a French harlot drunk on absinthe. She favors only the most garish fabrics!"
Damon did not know what that meant exactly, but he assumed it was bad. "Thank you, Mr. Mikaelson. Has Father called for us yet."
"Son, would you be upset if he did want you back or did not? Tell me the truth, please," Klaus questioned coming over to lean against the trunk at the foot at the bed. He patted the spot beside him for Damon to sit next to him.
"God's honest truth? I love my father, as is my duty, but he has never liked me. I am afraid of him and I despise his politics and his views on...well, everything," Damon said with vehemence. "There are times I am afraid that he is capable of unspeakable acts. Forgive my ungratefulness, but he is not right in the mind."
"I feared my father, too. More than I can say. That is no way for a child to live. Elijah spoke to your father and made sure that you boys would be safe here. And Damon, we do intend to keep you boys safe. What your brother did was very dangerous, running off like that. It cannot happen again," Klaus said gravely.
"Stefan is impulsive and spoiled. We all indulge and baby him. And I was speaking to a girl I met, she was very comely and I lost my head. I will never forgive myself!" Damon spewed getting up suddenly.
Klaus pulled Damon to stand in front of him gently. "Look at me, you will forgive yourself. Aye, you got distracted by a pretty lass. It happens, especially at your age. But you are going to be punished and then we need not speak of it."
Damon was ashamed, but forced himself to meet Klaus' blue-green eyes that burned with sincerely. He nodded.
"Now, tell me how your father punishes you," Klaus said quietly.
"I have to report to his study and bend over his desk or a stool. He used to make me cut a switch, but now he uses the strap more. The worse is when he calls for me at night," Damon admitted shamefully.
"Does he strike you often?" Klaus said patting the boy's arm supportively.
Damon nodded, "He likes Proverbs 23:13-14 'Do not hold back discipline from the child, although you strike him with the rod, he will not shall strike him with the rod and rescue his soul from Sheol.' I never knew where Sheol is. I do not think I want to know."
"Damon, I suppose he does not care for Matthew 19:14," Klaus replied.
Damon shook his head, "'But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' Father is more concerned with demons and hellfire. Stefan already has nightmares. He does not need to hear more."
"Stefan will never need hear that nonsense again. I promise you, we have no strap here and I do not care for the switch myself, though Elijah has taken one to Kol once or twice. I think my hand and a few...aye, thumps with this brush will do to teach you a lesson on minding your brother," Klaus said as he picked up the wooden bath brush.
Damon sighed, he wanted to appear brave. "Where do you want me?"
Klaus looked confused, "Why, over my knee, of course."
"But...," Damon protested weakly as Klaus gripped him by the arm and spun him to lean over his left thigh. Damon's upper body rested on the bed.
"Hust now, it will be over quickly unless you fight me. I know this is unpleasant, but you will feel better after," Klaus insisted. "Just maybe not your posterior."
"Yes, sir," Damon gasped. He felt Klaus' hand tap his behind and tensed. Whack! Whack! The first two cracks were dulled by the cotton pajama pants. Whack! Whack!
Damon was able to remain still as Klaus slowly smacked his behind with firm, but not hard, slaps. He swatted the center of each cheek, first right, then left for a time. Damon began to feel warmth and then heat build slowly. He shifted to alleviate some of the sting.
"This shall not do, eh?" Klaus said ruefully. Klaus lifted up Damon slowly. His behind was feeling warm, but did not ache not hurt. Their elderly parlor maid at Veritas Estates spanked harder, Damon thought to himself.
"Sir?" Damon asked.
"Come now. That's a good lad," Klaus urged as he led Damon to the side of the bed and sat down. Klaus remembered to grab the bath brush, though he had only been planning to swat the lad a few times at the end of the punishment. He did not want to upset the boy, but he clearly was not feeling much of the spanking. Klaus frowned. He detested it when Elijah was right, but the boy reminded him of a young Marcellus. He would have to harden his heart or they would be here all afternoon.
"Trousers down, please," Klaus said as he grabbed the draw string to loosen the pants. Damon's hands went to hold up his pants as he had no drawers on underneath.
"I am nude underneath!" Damon protested.
"Does you father bare you for a whipping?" Klaus prodded.
"Yes, sir. Always always, unless I provoke him to anger and he does not have time to strip me," Damon confessed.
"That will not happed here, Damon. No one is angry at you. You are a boy and boys made mistakes. Once you are punished, you are forgiven. Then, we move on, but if you resist me, I will have no issue spanking your insolent bottom before bed tonight. And yes, that would be right in front of the other boys," Klaus said more firmly.
Damon's eyes grew wide and he moved his hands, "I am sorry. I did not mean to."
"Shhh, over my knee. Give me your hands and then you can take a little rest. Sweet boy, you have had a very difficult day," Klaus said tenderly as he tugged down the pajama pants to Damon's knees. He flipped Damon, this time completely over his lap, with his legs and upper body resting on the bed. Klaus pushed up the material of Damon's shirt to bare his pale buttocks further. Klaus knew they would not remain so white for long, but the boy could not be allowed to wallow in guilt and pain over the earlier incident. Damon felt his eyes fill with tears at the same time he felt cool air wash over his bare behind. Then, he gave Klaus his hands behind his back and waited. He didn't have to wait long for the spanking to continue. This time Klaus was swatting harder and faster. Whack! Whack! Whack!
Damon immediately felt himself tense and then try to get out of place but Klaus' hold on his hands kept him pinned. Klaus smacked him hard on the center of his behind across both cheeks for four swats until Damon groaned with the burn of it. Then, Klaus began to smack him randomly all over so he did not know where to anticipate the next smack. After thirty spanks, Damon found himself kicking and squirming, but managed to bite his lip to remain silent. Crack! Crack!
"Are you going to *swat! lose sight of Stefan *swat* again when you are in *swat* charge of him"" Klaus said pausing the swats.
Damon groaned, "N-No, sir. Never a-again! I am sorryyyyy" Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
The last four cracks were hard and Damon broke into sobs.
"Owwwwww," Damon yelped as he tried to thrash and kick. Damon's pants were tangled around his ankles and he could barely move his feet.
Damon heard a tap on the door and Klaus spoke to someone.
"How fares it, Brother?" Elijah asked.
"He is doing well. Learning a good lesson, I should think. We are almost finished. I do not want him to have to sit on a pillow for supper, though. How is the little lad?" Klaus said now lightly patting Damon's rear slowly.
"He and Rebekah are fast asleep. All worn out," Elijah mused. "Carry on, then!"
"Damon, it is alright. Do not resist, let it out," Klaus said now picking up the wooden bath brush. It had a long handle and circle head. Klaus rested the cool wood and Damon's right cheek before lifting it and brining it down with a crack.
"Awwwww!" Damon shrieked. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Klaus paddled Damon solidly on each sit spot twice and tossed the brush aside. Damon felt a sharp unendurable pain and wailed loudly. Klaus released his hands and Damon sobbed into his hands and wiped his nose. Klaus rubbed the boy's back and inspected his red behind to make sure that he had not bruised him with those last four swats. Klaus gave the boy a moment to settle down and then lifted him to a standing position by the bed. Damon's hand immediately went to rub his sore cheeks. His pajama top fell to protect his modesty. The boy's pants were still twisted around his ankled. He stiffly pulled up his pants, now grateful for the lack of scratchy drawers to rub against his hot skin.
Klaus allowed the boy to pull his pants up and then opened his arms. Damon paused and then broke into renewed sobbed and hugged Klaus around the neck.
"Son, you are alright. All is forgiven," Klaus soothed. Klaus kissed the boy on the forehead and tightly rubbed his back. What had that monster Giuseppe Salvatore done to this boy?
Damon let Klaus wipe his face and smooth his hair and then put him in the feather bed on his stomach.
"It was just a little smacking. Now, you take a rest and when you wake up, your backside will not be quite as sore. Would you like me to stay?" Klaus asked. The boy nodded and Klaus pulled a chair closer to the bed.
"Thank you," Damon said huskily. Damon wanted to tell Klaus how his father usually ordered him to his room or to get out of his sight after he punished him. Sometimes Giuseppe seemed even angrier after whipping his eldest son. Damon never understood why, but he was always glad to flee the man's presence.
Klaus knew that Damon was thinking of Giuseppe Salvatore.
"You never have to see him again if you do not want to. I promise you that," Klaus said stroking Damon's dark brown ear. He was such a beautiful boy, strong, but fragile. How anyone could not adore his own son was beyond Klaus' comprehension. Damon's blue eyes revealed the depth of the boy's sadness and hurt over his parents.
"I do not care if he rots in Sheol, or where ever he is," Damon admitted.
"He is in hell. Alone, shunned by the ones he should have protected and loved. We can get your things, your servants, and your horse soon and then you can forget he existed," Klaus went on.
"You have been very kind, sir," Damon said as he snuck a hand back to rub his tender rump.
"You do not have to call me sir. You can call me Klaus," Klaus offered, but Damon had drifted off to sleep.
Klaus kissed him on the top of the head. He did want to get the boys their belongings, but he was afraid if he came across the senior Salvatore that he would rip his throat out. He had done worse to people for doing much less evil than what this man had done to his sons. Yet Klaus had vowed to be a better man and father for Marcellus. He had keep to that promise the better part of 35 years now. Klaus softly walked out of the room and went to find Elijah. They needed a better plan.
Klaus' supernatural hearing picked up on a metallic sound. What was that clanging? Klaus vamped downstairs to the first floor, past the parlor, and past the dining room.
The guest house had a room that Klaus had told the servants to keep locked on the first floor, but the door was swung wide open. Stefan came out carrying something and banging it on the wall.
"Stefan, lad, I thought you were to nap! What are you doing?" Klaus asked in confusion.
"I got hungry. I thought there might be sweet cakes in the boxes! But I found a sword!" Stefan said with glee. It was clear Rebekah's spanking had not dampened the boy's spirit a bit.
Klaus' eyes narrowed, "A sword? May I see that?"
From behind Stefan, a figure appeared, and croaked, "Skyldfólk!"
Relative? In Old Norse...Klaus staggered, "Stefan! What did you do?"
Klaus heard Elijah calling for Stefan but mouth was suddenly so dry he could not speak.
Elijah vamped behind Klaus, "What the devil is going on? Stefan, is that a dagger? Hand that to me this instant!"
Klaus finally opened his mouth and croaked, "Finn! Is that you?"
Finn croaked, "Heil bróðir"
Stefan dropped the dagger on the floor.