Tim shrieked, and bolted upright. He instinctively reached back, clutching at his burning backside, as if the automatic response could lessen the pain.

Gibbs waited, silently, for the younger man to realise what was expected of him.

It would be easier for Tim, he knew, if he held him down. Making him struggle to stay still, to put himself back into position when he failed, added to the punishment both physically and emotionally.

But, he knew, Tim needed the memory of accepting this whipping. He needed to consciously submit to every agonising stroke, to know that he agreed to suffer the consequences of his actions.

He'd put Tony through this ritual the first time he'd whipped him, making him repeatedly force himself face-down on the hood of a jeep to wait for the next searing lash. He'd spared Tim the ordeal for his first spanking, holding him in place and getting it over with. He'd meant it as a kindness, but he suspected that some part of the younger man's difficulty coming to terms with the experience stemmed from a feeling of helplessness, from a sense that his willingness to atone for his actions played no part in his punishment. Right now, Tim needed this to not be easy.

Tim looked at him, clearly surprised and terrified by how much the first stroke had hurt, confused about why he'd been allowed to 'escape', and plaintively hoping that the single lash was all he'd have to endure. Gibbs calmly returned his gaze, finally angling his eyes towards the table in a silent order.

Tim sobbed, giving him a last pleading look before hesitantly bending over again, his arms crossed in front of him.

'Hold on to the sides of the table, Tim. It helps... a little.'

The younger man turned his head at the gentle words, then slowly shifted his position.

Gibbs whipped him again, turning more of his ass an angry red. Tim screamed and bucked against the table, but managed to hold on and stay more or less in position.

Gibbs let his features soften slightly in empathy as he delivered a third lash, catching sight of his agent's red, tear-streaked face as he cried out and twisted away from the strap. He took a deep breath before forcing himself to continue. He hated seeing his people in pain... pain that he had caused them. And he'd recently been reminded just how much a whipping hurts. But he would do everything in his power to keep them safe, including making damn sure that they learned from their mistakes.

He gave Tim three more hard strokes, pausing after each to let him adjust his grip on the table and settle back into position.

He hesitated a moment longer before bringing the strap down on the back of his thighs.

Tim howled in pain and jolted to his feet, staggering backwards and turning towards Gibbs with wild eyes. He stood there panting, plainly horrified.

'We're not finished yet, Tim.'

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, with obvious effort, he shuffled the short distance to the table and threw himself onto it with a heart-wrenching sob.

Gibbs delivered a final lash across his thighs and quickly assured him that it was over.

Tim collapsed face-down on the table, sobbing hard. Gibbs rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, but then forced himself to step back and give him a few minutes to pull himself together. He wanted to pull him upright and hold him tightly, but the hurt little boy he could see so clearly in the prone form was inside the body of a grown man, who would be mortified by being hugged, half-naked, by his boss.

Tim's shaking shoulders finally stilled and he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet and, still sniffling, retrieved his clothes. He gasped and whimpered at the painful contact with his reddened skin, looking up at Gibbs with an anguished expression.

Gibbs reacted instinctively, pulling him into his arms. He expected him to struggle, to push him away as Tony had done. Instead, Tim clung to him like a drowning man and started sobbing again. Gibbs held him gently, patting him softly on the back until he'd calmed down.

With a final sniffle, Tim finally relaxed his embrace and stepped back, rooting in his pocket for tissues with a wince.

'That really hurt, Boss!'

Gibbs smiled at the boyishness of Tim's tone. There was no reproach in the observation, just a slightly disbelieving statement of fact.

'I know, Tim. Trust me, I know. I remember every stroke Mike ever gave me with that thing.'

Tim looked at him in astonishment. Gibbs wasn't sure what surprised the younger man more: the revelation that he'd been whipped by his first partner, or the admission that it had been memorably painful.

'I can't have you and Tony fighting, Tim. Our jobs are too dangerous for you two not to have each other's back, and I'm not going to ignore hostility between you. It stops, right now.'

Tim nodded, looking serious and very, very young behind his drying tears.

'I know, Boss. I know you spanked me so that Tony doesn't get killed...'

'No, Tim. I strapped you so you don't have to live with yourself afterwards.'

Tim's eyes widened as he processed that information, and he swallowed hard in a desperate effort to keep from bursting into tears again.

'Go on home. Get some sleep.'

He nodded, and moved towards the door.

'And bring a pillow with you, tomorrow. Tony's gonna need his.'

Tim gave him a tentative smile.

'G'night, Boss.'

'Good night, son.'