Disciplinary Action Read online

  Disciplinary Action

  Copyright © 2020 Onley James

  www.onleyjames.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual living or dead. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  scorpius rising

  an imprint of

  seven sisters publishing

  P.O. Box 993

  Jupiter, Florida 33458

  www.7sisterspublishing.com/scorpiusrising

  Contents

  1. Callum

  2. Gideon

  3. Callum

  4. Gideon

  5. Callum

  6. Gideon

  7. Callum

  8. Gideon

  9. Callum

  10. Gideon

  11. Callum

  12. Gideon

  13. Callum

  14. Gideon

  15. Callum

  16. Gideon

  17. Callum

  18. Gideon

  19. Callum

  20. Gideon

  21. Callum

  22. Gideon

  23. Callum

  24. Gideon

  25. Callum

  26. Gideon

  27. Callum

  28. Gideon

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  “You sure you want to do this, man? Once you walk in that door, there’s no going back.”

  Callum Whyte licked his lower lip but refused to meet his friend’s gaze. Outside, a storm raged, fogging the windows until it felt as if he and Bastian were locked in a protective bubble, the soothing white noise of the rain and the purr of the engine a balm for Cal’s frayed nerves.

  “Yeah, I have to do this. I don’t have a choice.” It wasn’t a lie. “Besides, you said he’s cute, right?” When Bastian didn’t answer, he flicked his gaze towards him. “Right?”

  Bastian nodded, the top half of his face shrouded in the shadows of the car’s interior but his mouth illuminated by the glow of the streetlight just outside. “Yeah, he’s smoking hot but, like, in a George Clooney kinda way. Like, guys who have this kind of money are never our age.” Seeming to remember who he was talking too, he corrected himself. “Well, in the real world outside of Roosevelt Academy.”

  Cal had spent most of his life living with money that would have afforded him not only an apartment in the building just outside but the entire building itself had he wanted it. Bastian, however, hadn’t grown up in privilege. They were friends by accident, thrown together by circumstance and proximity. Now they were the same, thanks to his father. “Even if he’s ninety, I have to do this. Just tell me what I need to know.”

  Bastian nodded. “Like I said, he’s particular. His name is Gideon, but you will refer to him only as Daddy unless he says otherwise. He will punish you. Usually, it’s spanking.” Usually? The thought sent a strange arch of electricity through his bloodstream, but he didn’t interrupt. “He uses the traffic light system. Green is good, yellow means you need a break, and red means everything stops. He will ask you, and you’ll repeat it just like that. Don’t fake your responses to him. If you’re into it, great. If you’re not, that’s fine too, but if you moan like a porn star and like you’re putting on a show, he’ll end the whole thing.”

  It seemed strange that a guy hiring a prostitute would be mad if they faked enjoyment, but what did Cal know? Admittedly, he had limited experience with this sort of thing. It wasn’t like he’d ever wanted for money before, and his sexual encounters were the typical drunken fumbling of most nineteen-year-olds. He’d done nothing like this before, especially with an older man. A shiver ran over him. He had to do this. He didn’t have a choice.

  Cal could tell Bastian was nervous about recommending him for the job. He wanted to reassure him that he wouldn’t embarrass him, but he was almost positive if he tried to talk his voice would shake.

  “He will want you to stay afterwards. He’s real big on that. He’ll use you hard. He’s big, in every sense of the word. But afterward, he will want to take care of you. It’s part of the package, and he’s a high roller, so you’re going to let him. Honestly, you’ll need it, anyway. Don’t fight him. Don’t try to leave as soon as it’s over. He’ll tell you when he’s done. He’s paid Hillary for the whole night. Any cash he gives you is a tip, and it’s yours to spend. Once you leave, call Hillary so she knows you’re okay. That’s non-negotiable. She’s really protective of us, and she doesn’t like worrying.”

  A madam with a heart of gold. Cal fought the nervous giggle that threatened to bubble out of him. Instead, he gave a stilted nod. He could do this. He’d been in pain before. He’d never had anybody whip or spank him, but he’d broken his finger during lacrosse and he’d broken his leg skiing in Vail with his dad when he was thirteen. Bastian had promised the guy wasn’t a monster, just kinky. Cal could handle kinky.

  He turned in his seat, thrusting his shoulders back and lifting his head. “How do I look?”

  Bastian pushed Cal’s chocolate brown hair back off his face, narrowing his gaze. “Good. You’re kind of little. I think he’ll like that.”

  “Wow. You don’t have to be a dick.”

  “Shut up. You know what I mean. You have that heroin chic, chiseled cheekbones and lanky build look. He’ll like that he can manhandle you. It’s a compliment, asshole.”

  He’d have to take Bastian’s word for it. “And you’re sure this dude’s not a serial killer or something?”

  “He’s Hillary’s most loyal client. The problem is, he never uses the same boy twice. She’s constantly having to scout new talent for him. He’s not a bad guy, just…damaged. Hillary thinks he lost somebody. We get a lot of those types. Widowers, divorced dudes. He’s just another lonely guy with money.”

  “Got it,” Cal lied. He didn’t imagine there were a lot of hot, rich guys that bought their dates verses just picking one out of a group of willing males or females. For as long as Cal could remember, his father had always had beautiful women dying to be the next Mrs. Whyte, but his father had a short attention span…with everyone in his life.

  “When you get to the front desk, just say ‘Gideon’s expecting me’ and act like you belong.” Cal was reaching for the door when Bastian stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t kiss him. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s just better that way. This will be intense enough without…that.”

  Cal frowned but nodded. “I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

  He made it past the doorman and desk clerk without incident. Cal was lucky, he supposed—he still looked like he had money. His black pants and crisp white button-down shirt were expensive and tailored to hug his form. Without his jacket and tie, there was no sign this was a school uniform. It was only once he stood outside the door to the stranger’s apartment that the weight of what he was about to do hit him. This is what his life had come to…anonymous kinky sex for money. He shook off the thought and rang the doorbell before self-pity could sink its claws in any deeper.

  The door swung open, and Cal froze. Bastian had lied. This man—Gideon—wasn’t hot. He was fucking Clark Kent, tall and tan, with a square jaw, black wavy hair, and a five o’clock shadow. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. Creases formed in the corners of his stunning eyes, a bright, clear turquoise blue even behind the lenses of black-framed glasses. Cal couldn’t seem to find his voice. He just stood, gaping
at the man in his oatmeal colored cashmere sweater and form fitting dress pants. Cal’s gaze dropped to the floor. The man was barefoot. It made the whole thing seem more intimate somehow.

  “Come in.”

  Cal’s heart raced as he crossed the entrance. The space was cavernous. An L shaped open loft with gleaming wooden floors and a wall of windows that seemed to lead to a balcony outside. Cal wasn’t certain because, like the car, the windows had fogged over, leaving what lay on the other side a mystery. His gaze swung from one space to the next, desperate for any place to look but at the man standing in front of him.

  A kitchen with pale wood cabinets and high end stainless steel appliances dominated one wall, and a living space with a brown leather sofa and two olive green chairs took up the space closest to the balcony, but Cal’s eyes locked on the enormous king-size bed framed against the exposed brick wall. There was no headboard, only a large mirror.

  Gideon closed the door behind Cal and gestured for him to walk farther into the room. “I trust Hillary explained how this works?”

  “Y-Yes,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming as the man’s brows lifted. “Yes, Daddy,” he added, hating how awkward he sounded.

  “You don’t have to call me that just yet. You may call me Gideon until we begin. What should I call you?”

  Bastian had told Cal to choose a moniker, a name for his clients with no ties to his real life, but now he floundered. “I—”

  “Is this your first time?” Gideon asked, his gaze pinning him in place.

  “I’m not a virgin,” he promised.

  The man smirked, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he leaned against the back of the sofa. “Is this your first time doing this for money?”

  “Am I that obvious?” Cal asked.

  “You just seem nervous.”

  That was an understatement. He wanted to kick himself. He couldn’t afford to botch this. “They gave me a lot of rules. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Cal hated disappointing people. He prided himself on being likable. Agreeable. The good son. The good friend.

  “I believe you.”

  Cal gave a timid smile as relief flooded him. But it was short-lived. Gideon closed the distance between them, tipping Cal’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “If you’re having doubts, say so. It’s alright. This is a lot for somebody new. You can walk out the door right now, and I’ll never tell Hillary you left. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “Why would you do that?” Cal asked before he could stop himself.

  “Because playing with unwilling participants isn’t what I’m after. You don’t look like most of Hillary’s boys. I don’t want you doing something you regret out of…desperation.”

  Was this guy serious? He’d let Cal walk out, just leave and keep money he hadn’t earned? It sounded too good to be true, but one look at the man’s face and Cal knew he wasn’t lying. Gideon was giving him permission to go. He’d be able to afford food and his meds without having to sacrifice his dignity. But he couldn’t seem to will his feet to move. “I want to stay. But…I don’t…I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m probably going to mess up.”

  The way Gideon looked at him just then warmed Cal’s entire body, his cock hardening as Gideon murmured, “Oh, I certainly hope so.”

  Gideon removed his glasses and sweater, leaving him in a white oxford shirt and tailored pants that hugged his thick thighs. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. “How do you address me?” he asked, all trace of affability leaving him in an instant.

  “Daddy,” Cal managed, breathless.

  “What do you say if you need me to pause?”

  “Yellow.”

  “And if you want me to stop altogether?”

  “Red.”

  “Good boy,” Gideon purred, stroking Cal’s cheek with his free hand. “You’re a natural.”

  Cal tipped his face into the caress, his heart tripping at the praise. Everything felt heavy like each word, each gesture carried weight. He couldn’t explain this sudden pull, this need to please the stranger standing before him, but it meant everything. He wanted to be his good boy.

  “I won’t stop unless you give me those words. Do you have any hard limits?”

  “Hard limits?” he parroted, not understanding the question.

  He gave a patient smile. “Things you just won’t allow? Things you don’t like and don’t want me to do to you.”

  Cal’s cock twitched at Gideon’s words. He would do things to Cal. Did he have hard limits? Things he wouldn’t let this stranger do to him? He had no frame of reference other than porn. “I… No gross bodily fluids, I guess. I’m not into like golden showers or anything like that. And condoms. You have to wear one,” he finished, blushing once more.

  “Of course. Is that it?”

  No kissing. Bastian’s voice bounced around in his head, the volume increasing each time he uttered the words. No kissing. No kissing. No kissing. Cal nodded. “Yes.” Idiot.

  “Yes, what?” Gideon asked, his voice a low rumble.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Once more, the man caressed his cheek. “You’re going to do so well.” Cal closed his eyes, tipping his face against his hand, hungry for his touch. The man gave a sound of approval. “So responsive. Hillary outdid herself with you.”

  As far as compliments went, it was a strange one, but butterflies took flight in his belly.

  “Let’s begin. Take off your clothes,” Gideon demanded. “Everything.”

  Cal’s mouth was a desert at Gideon’s words. His hands shook as he undid the buttons of his shirt, unable to tear his eyes from Gideon who unbuckled his own belt, pulling it free and wrapping it around his hand.

  Cal removed his clothes with no finesse, letting each piece fall until he was naked and trembling before Gideon, fighting the urge to hide his obvious arousal. Cal had never felt so…vulnerable.

  “You’re beautiful,” Gideon stated almost as if he could feel Cal’s trepidation. “Turn around for me.”

  Cal did as Gideon asked, grateful the man couldn’t see him blush at the compliment. Cal knew he wasn’t ugly—though he was small, he was fit from years of sports. Nothing like Gideon’s toned, fit build though. If anything, Cal might seem too skinny, too small, almost feminine in the right light.

  “Perfect,” Gideon muttered under his breath before closing the space between them, his fingers trailing over the tattoo on Cal’s shoulder. A small sparrow. “It suits you, this…little bird.”

  Did it? He sucked in a startled breath when lips scraped against his shoulder, his hands flailing at his sides before reaching behind him, gripping the man’s pants more to anchor himself than to bring him closer.

  Gideon caught Cal’s hands in his. “No touching unless I give you permission. Understand? You get only what I give you.”

  Goosebumps erupted over his skin. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good boy.”

  Pleasure bloomed behind his ribcage, but nerves took its place as the leather belt grazed his skin. Cal had never been spanked, not with a hand or a belt, not even as a child. Somebody would have had to care enough to discipline him, and that was the one luxury Cal had never had.

  He dragged the leather strap along Cal’s thigh. “You belong to me tonight. You’re mine. Just mine. Say it.”

  Cal closed his eyes. “I’m just yours, Daddy.”

  He gasped as Gideon’s hand came to rest low on his belly, the older man’s nose pressing behind Cal’s ear. “Open your eyes and look at me.” Cal forced his eyes open, meeting Gideon’s gaze in the mirror, heart racing at the obscene portrait they made. “Now, say it again.”

  “I’m yours, Daddy,” he repeated. “Just yours.”

  Gideon pulled him back against him.

  “I’m going to spank you. Do you understand?”

  He shivered. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Does the thought of being helpless scare you, little bird?” he murmure
d against Cal’s ear, biting down on his earlobe.

  Cal’s nipples hardened, his cock twitching. If it did, he was definitely experiencing an inappropriate fear response. “A little bit, Daddy,” he acknowledged.

  “Yellow or red and we stop immediately. If you don’t say it, I won’t stop. I’m going to spank you until you cry, and then I’m going to fuck you as many times as I like, however I like. If you’re good for me, if you behave, I’ll let you come too. Do you understand?”

  Jesus. Cal swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered before remembering himself. “Yes, Daddy.”

  There was a low growl from behind his ear. “Do you feel how hard you make me?”

  There was no missing his erection, pressed against the small of Cal’s back. He was huge, just as Bastian said. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Does that excite you?”

  It did. It excited him and scared him in equal measure. He’d only bottomed twice and never with anybody so big. With all of Bastian’s warnings, Cal’s situation only now seemed real. “I’m going to fuck you.” That’s what he’d said. At some point, Gideon would be inside him, using him, maybe more than once. It was only when he’d dared to meet Gideon’s gaze that Cal remembered Gideon waited for an answer. He gave a stilted nod, not trusting himself to speak. He cried out as the leather strap of Gideon’s belt cracked across his ass.

  “When I ask you a question, you will answer me out loud. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” he managed between gritted teeth, his skin on fire.

  Maybe Bastian was right. Maybe this wasn’t for him. His body couldn’t seem to decide how to behave. All he had to do was say the word, one word, and he could walk, money in hand. But try as he might, he couldn’t force the word past his lips.