Disciplinary Action

by Onley James

  A brisk knock sounded on the door, and then Evelyn poked her head inside. “Do you have time for me yet? I know you need to get acclimated, but the board believes this cannot wait.”

  Gideon waved her in. Everything about his new assistant was severe, from the gray hair she scraped into a bun on the top of her head to the cat eye glasses that sat on her beak-like nose. Her face was all sharp planes and angles, her black dress hung on her rail thin frame, and she wore low chunky heels that clopped when she walked. In her hands, she clutched a manila folder, which Gideon imagined contained the information the board had determined couldn’t wait.

  He sat forward, folding his hands on his desk. “I’m all ears.”

  She flicked her beady gaze towards him, examining him as if she wasn’t sure he was taking the matter seriously enough. He wasn’t. He’d graduated from Roosevelt Prep twenty-five years ago, and he was certain little had changed, especially Evelyn Abernathy who still looked down her nose at him like he was the same working poor scholarship kid he was all those years ago.

  “Unless you’ve been living under a rock, I’m assuming you know who Bryson Whyte is?” she asked in her usual clipped tone.

  “Bryson Whyte? The man who bilked people out of millions in some Ponzi scheme? Yeah, I’m familiar with the man,” he said, curious to know where this was going.

  “Yes, well, several of those people who were…bilked…as you put it, are parents here at the academy and many others were on the school’s board.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Gideon said, more because it seemed the appropriate response than because he was really sad that trust fund billionaires had lost their shirts to a con man.

  “Hm.” She sniffed. “May I sit?”

  “I wish you would.” He didn’t like the woman hovering above him. It felt like she might attack from above at any moment. He liked her at eye level.

  She lowered herself down, spine straight as an arrow and shoulders back. “Thank you. As I was saying, Bryson Whyte destroyed the lives of many parents and students here at the school, and we cannot overlook that.”

  “Is somebody asking you to?” Gideon asked, losing his patience with the woman’s mysterious delivery.

  “His son is a senior here.”

  That did get Gideon’s attention, his brows hiking upward. “Well, that must make for some awkward lunches.”

  “Indeed. The boy has always been a handful, but it has gotten worse since his father’s arrest. He starts fights, has gotten kicked off the lacrosse team, and has been placed on academic probation for cheating.” She paused, clenching her folder tighter, gazing at him expectantly.

  Gideon couldn’t even imagine the turmoil going through something like that would cause. The boy’s entire world ripped away from him, the world hating his father and, by extension, him. Gideon remembered well what it was like to have an embarrassment for a father.

  The woman slapped the folder on the desk with more force than necessary. “Well?”

  “Well what, Mrs. Abernathy?” he snapped.

  “What do you think we should do about this? This can’t continue. It’s causing chaos, and these children and their families have already been through so much.”

  Gideon refrained from rolling his eyes but couldn’t stifle his sigh. “Do you want me to have a talk with him? You can pull him out of first period and I’ll see if I might get through to him, make a personal improvement plan. They still have those here, don’t they? Has he spoken with the guidance counselor?”

  She bristled at his mention of the improvement plan. She’d created them years ago just to embarrass him. “I’m afraid it has gone too far for that, Mr. Gideon.”

  He arched a brow. “How so?”

  “Well,” she said, thrusting her chin up like she was gearing up for a fight. “The board believes he should be expelled. That it would be best for all involved.”

  Gideon snorted. “All but the boy.”

  “The good of the many, Mr. Gideon, outweighs the needs of one troubled boy from a bad family.”

  Gideon shook his head. “The good of many? Before his father’s arrest was the boy a discipline problem?”

  “No,” she agreed begrudgingly. “No more than the other boys on the lacrosse team, but he was an instigator. Him and that scholarship boy, Bastian.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her gaze darted toward him, eyes wide as she realized her mistake. Still, she didn’t apologize.

  “Before the cheating incident, how were his grades?”

  She glowered at him. “He has a 5.3 GPA. He was on track to be valedictorian before he started taking out his personal troubles here on campus.”

  “Is his tuition paid up?” Gideon questioned.

  “Yes. All tuition is due at the beginning of the year. You know that.”

  Gideon leaned back to study the old woman for a full minute. “So, you want me to expel a student with a 5.3 GPA, who has paid his tuition in full, six weeks before graduation because he’s been acting out a bit since his father went to prison? I mean, I can’t imagine it’s been easy for him around here with the other kids knowing what his father did.”

  She gave an exasperated snort. “Yes, precisely my point. I’m sure he’d be much happier at another school. We’re willing to reimburse the entire year’s tuition to make this go away.”

  Gideon scoffed. “You mean to make him go away.”

  She waved a hand. “Fine, yes. If you like. To make him go away.”

  “Evelyn—”

  “Mrs. Abernathy,” she corrected.

  “Mrs. Abernathy. I’d be more than happy to talk to the boy, and I’ll even go before the board, but I’m loathe to add to this boy’s already substantial burden just because it seems like a bunch of adults have it out for this kid.”

  “He’s not a child. He’s nineteen, almost twenty. He spent the first seven years of his life in Hong Kong, and when he returned, it took some time for him to acclimate to life in America. It put him a year behind.”

  “Have you spoken with the boy’s mother? What does she have to say about this? Is he seeing a therapist?”

  “His mother passed when he was six. That’s why he and his father returned from China. He has no other family to speak of.” She tapped the folder before him. “Mr. Gideon, I admire your desire to help this boy but some people just don’t deserve second chances. I assured the board that you would see things our way and get this handled today.”

  “That sounds like you may have overstepped a bit there, Mrs. Abernathy. Give me the boy’s file and pull him from first period. I want to speak with him.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “I’ll decide what’s necessary,” Gideon said.

  She gave him a snide smile. “I simply meant the boy is already waiting for you in the hallway. I’ll send him in.”

  She rose with the grace of an aging beauty queen, walking to the door and opening it. “Mr. Gideon will see you now, Callum.”

  A strange knot formed in Gideon’s stomach though he couldn’t put his finger on why. The woman stepped back, and the boy entered, his gaze going wide, his mouth falling open.

  Gideon cut his gaze toward the older woman. “That will be all, Mrs. Abernathy. I can take it from here. Shut the door behind you.”

  She gave the boy another once over before doing as Gideon asked.

  Gideon’s gaze roved over the student, taking in the navy blue blazer with the red piping and gold Roosevelt crest. The boy leaned against the door, hooking his fingers in the knot of his red and blue striped tie, tugging it until it hung loose around his neck. “Hey there, Daddy.” He smirked. “And you said you never see the same boy twice.”

  Gideon’s pulse throbbed. Jesus. He did his best to keep his composure. “Sit down, Mr. Whyte.” Cal dropped into the vacated seat, giving Gideon a blank stare. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  Cal shrugged one shoulder, all trace of the sweet boy he’d met just one week ago long gone. “Yeah, the board wants t
o kick me out of school in retaliation for my dad stealing all their money, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Gideon cocked a brow. “Oh? And why is that?”

  Cal leaned forward. “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘mutually assured destruction’?”

  So, it was like that, was it? He supposed he didn’t blame the boy. He didn’t know that Gideon had no intention of expelling him. Cal was just playing the hand the school—and Gideon—had dealt him. Still, part of him was excited to see the boy sitting before him, even under these circumstances. But he refused to make his feelings known, certainly not when the boy was so proud of his little blackmailing scheme.

  “Meaning?” Gideon asked.

  The boy’s eyes sparkled, his smile a cross between coy and menacing. “Meaning we now both have something to lose. So, how about a little quid pro quo?”

  Gideon steepled his fingers. “What exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Whyte?”

  “You don’t expel me, and in exchange, I won’t tell the school that you engaged in some very kinky behavior with one of your students.”

  Gideon hooked a brow upward. “You are playing a very adult game here, Cal. Think carefully before you go down this path.”

  “I played lots of adult games with you a week ago, remember? I have nothing left to lose. Can you say the same, Mr. Gideon?” When Gideon didn’t respond, the boy leaned forward. “It’s only six weeks.”

  Gideon tightened his jaw until his teeth ached as he stared at the boy who’d almost made him break his rules. He should tell the boy that he had no intention of expelling him and let him know that his little blackmail scheme was useless. But something told him to let it play out. To see what happens.

  “Gosh, you look really mad,” Cal mocked. “How about I lock the door and you can punish me? Roosevelt Preparatory Academy is real big on corporal punishment.” He glanced up at the large paddle hanging on the wall with the school crest etched into the handle. “See? It’s encouraged, even.”

  There was no missing the tinge of desperation just beneath the boy’s tone. It was obvious Cal hadn’t planned this encounter. There was no way he could have known Gideon would end up as acting headmaster, it was just a series of unfortunate events that had led them to this moment, but it changed nothing. This boy—his boy—sat before him, threatening to expose him, desperate to provoke a response. Gideon had two choices: tell Cal he had never intended to expel him and send him back to class or let the boy believe he had the upper hand and give him what he really wanted, what he was so clearly begging for.

  There was never any question what Gideon’s answer would be. He stood, walking around the desk to the door. Cal turned to watch, the light in his moss green eyes dimming when he saw Gideon reach for the handle. He sucked in a breath as Gideon locked the door. “Very well, little bird. Stand up. Lower your pants and underwear, and put your hands on the desk. If you utter a single sound, I’ll make sure you don’t sit down for a month without wincing. Understand?”

  The boy’s whole body seemed to sag with relief. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Gideon grabbed the boy’s loosened tie, turning it so he could slip it into the boy’s mouth before tightening it. It wouldn’t quiet the boy if he chose to cry out, but it would remind him that Gideon had given him an order. He briefly considered retrieving the paddle from the wall but he needed to feel the boy’s skin beneath his hand, wanted to see his palm prints on his rounded backside.

  When the boy’s pants fell to his ankles and his underwear was shoved to mid-thigh, Gideon realized the boy was still healing. There were various discolorations along his skin—finger marks where Gideon had held him in place while he’d slammed his cock into him, faint handprint shaped bruises where Gideon had punished him all those nights ago.

  It occurred to him then to ask, “Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Checked your blood sugar?”

  Callum turned toward him. “What?”

  “You heard me. I won’t have you slipping into a coma or a seizure on me. Have you?”

  Cal nodded. “Yes. I’m good. I promise.”

  Gideon trailed his fingers along Cal’s bruises, pressing his fingers against them until the boy whined. Gideon let his finger slide between the globes of Cal’s bottom. “So fucking desperate for it,” he murmured against his ear, bringing his hand down hard enough to rip the air from Cal’s lungs. “Oh, did that hurt, brat?”

  Cal just whimpered, his whole body shaking. Gideon wasn’t angry but he showed no mercy, spanking the boy again and again. He wondered if Abernathy could hear the sound of skin on skin. Did she smile thinking Gideon was doling out the much lauded corporal punishment Roosevelt was known for? Cal wasn’t smiling, not anymore. His creamy skin was now a mixture of pink and purple and yellow. Welts formed in the shape of his hand each time another blow landed until Cal began to flinch away from his hand. Tears and snot stained the boy’s face, saliva slick on his pouty red lips. Gideon forced Cal’s face to the desk so he couldn’t escape, giving him two more solid blows. “Remember, brat, you wanted this. You begged for it. Demanded it even.”

  Gideon spit on two fingers, forcing them inside the boy, fucking them into him mercilessly until Cal whined. Gideon yanked him back up against him, the pads of his fingers pressing up against the boy’s prostate, massaging it hard enough to make Cal’s knees give out. “Stand up,” Gideon growled, refusing to show him even the slightest reprieve. His boy needed to know, needed to understand what he’d done. Once Cal had his feet under him, Gideon wrapped his hand around the boy’s hard, leaking cock, jerking him, knowing the friction had to be painful. “Don’t you dare come.”

  Cal sobbed, any pretense of superiority washed away in a flow of tears and sweat. Every muscle tensed. Gideon listened to the sound of the boy’s breathing, working him from both sides until he seemed to lose control of his ability to stay quiet. He was whimpering, whining, whispering words that Gideon couldn’t make out. “Did you think you could threaten me? Walk into my office and make demands? I was never going to kick you out. Do you think I allow others to control me?” Gideon slipped his fingers from the boy’s body and dropped his hand from his straining cock. “You don’t get to come. You haven’t earned that. Six weeks. Just six weeks. Then we’re done. Get on your knees.”

  The boy dropped like a stone, his hands reaching for Gideon’s pants. “Did I say you could touch me?” Gideon freed his cock, slipping the tie from the boy’s mouth, noting the imprint on his cheeks from the tightened fabric. “Open your mouth.”

  Cal did as Gideon commanded, staring up at him with tears on his inky black lashes. He pushed his cock between the boy’s lips, forcing it deep enough for him to gag, before giving him a slight reprieve. He gripped the boy’s hair, fucking into his mouth with short, shallow thrusts. Cal began to bob his head, attempting to take Gideon deeper with each pass. Gideon bit back a groan as the boy sucked at the head of his cock, his tongue teasing at the notch just underneath. “Fuck,” Gideon muttered, pulling his cock free. “Stick out your tongue.” Cal complied, pupils blown, wincing as Gideon gripped his hair with one hand and jerked his own thick, leaking cock with the other. It only took a few hard pulls and then Gideon was painting his release over the boy’s lips and tongue. “Say ‘thank you, Daddy,’” he growled, rubbing his spent cock over the boy’s face.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Cal said, breathless.

  He used the boy’s tie to drag him to his feet and kiss him deep, his tongue thrusting into his mouth to taste his cum on his tongue. “Pull yourself together and get back to class.”

  He left the boy half dressed and shaking, walking around to take his seat at the desk. He leaned back to watch as Cal righted his clothing and wiped his face with trembling hands, using the wall mirror to try to make himself look less…defiled. His hand was on the door knob to leave when Gideon called out, “Callum.”

  “Yes…Mr. Gideon?” he asked, voice hoarse.

  “Don’t ever, ever think you make the rules. I don’t
need this job. I don’t need any job. If I never worked another day in my life, I’d still have enough money to buy this school ten times over. You’d do well to remember that.”

  The look of sorrow on the boy’s face almost made Gideon feel bad. Almost. Cal had wanted this side of Gideon…but more importantly, he needed it.

  The smell of Italian sausage, garlic, and rosemary wafted up the staircase to Bastian’s room, making Cal’s stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten all day and had hoped dinner would be something heavy on protein and light on carbs, but Bastian’s mom was making baked ziti and garlic bread. His brain told him he couldn’t, under any circumstances, eat something so heavy, but his stomach said otherwise. He was just so fucking hungry. He grabbed his kit from his backpack. Maybe his glucose wouldn’t be so bad, just this once.

  Cal winced as he dropped into Bastian’s desk chair, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he remembered everything that had happened in Gideon’s office. It wasn’t the first time those thoughts had flashed through his head. Hell, it might have even been the hundredth. His skin burned where Gideon had spanked him, and his ass ached where Gideon had fucked into him with his fingers. It had been raw and primal and like nothing Cal had ever experienced before in his life. And every time he’d sat down, the ache had reminded him, had brought it all back vividly, giving him a hard-on several times throughout the day. He hadn’t even been mad about Gideon leaving him hard. He wanted to experience it again.

  “You gonna just sit there at the desk with that dopey smile on your face, or are you going to explain to me what exactly our new headmaster did to put it there?”

  Cal glanced over to where Bastian sat on the bare hardwood floor, Cal’s PS4 controller in his hand. It was one of the few things he’d managed to take with him that the government hadn’t seized when they’d raided his house. He had taken it for granted back then, but seeing Bastian and his sisters playing with it made him happy now. It was the very least he could do for them.