Disciplinary Action Page 6

  Cal unzipped the kit that held his test strips and blood sugar meter, swiping his finger with alcohol before he pricked his finger. He winced at the number that flashed across the screen. He was going to have to find an excuse to not eat again tonight. Maybe he could find a way to eat the meat and cheese without the pasta? He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. There was no way to do that and not offend Bastian’s mom.

  Food was a constant problem for Cal—yet another thing he’d taken for granted just a few short months ago. He’d gone from chef prepared meals and an unlimited supply of fresh vegetables to living off of the kindness of others, specifically Bastian’s mom, Renata. Most of Renata’s meals were pasta based, and pasta was terrible for his blood sugar, especially now that he was forced to ration his insulin.

  “Dinner’s in ten minutes, boys,” Renata called from the bottom of the staircase. “Gia and Paola, you’re on kitchen duty. Get down here and set the table.”

  Two sets of groans came from the bedroom next door, and then footsteps pounded down the stairs as two of Bastian’s little sisters went to do as their mother commanded.

  Cal’s issue with food was hardly Renata’s fault. She had a hard enough time feeding her own six kids on her bookkeeping salary, and he couldn’t very well ask her to buy special food just for him when he could barely contribute more than a hundred bucks at most. He drew up ten units of insulin, pausing when he noticed he was more than halfway through the bottle. He pushed two units back in before squeezing the skin on his stomach and injecting himself.

  With the task completed, he put his things away and dropped down onto Bastian’s bed. He looked at Cal, brow furrowed. “How long are you going to keep playing with your meds like that?”

  Cal scoffed. “I’ve been using insulin since I was three years old. I know how far I can push it. Besides, a little bit goes a long way.” Bastian stared him down, a disapproving scowl on his face. Cal rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God. I’m fine, mom. Relax.”

  Bastian waved a hand at him and unpaused his game. On the screen, black ops soldiers ran across a jungle landscape, yelling at each other. Bastian continued playing, splitting his attention between the television and Cal. “So, spill it. You obviously weren’t kicked out of school. I’m guessing your little blackmail scheme worked.”

  Cal tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Bastian cut his gaze to Cal, giving his friend a disgusted look. “You absolute fucking idiot. You fucking blackmailed him into fucking you again, didn’t you?”

  “Am I that obvious?” Cal asked.

  “In his office? With that witch right outside gunning for you? Are you crazy?”

  “Sometimes, I think you’re secretly a little old lady, not somebody who fucks them.”

  “Fuck you. They aren’t that old. Besides, I’d never blackmail some lonely rich lady into doing something she didn’t want to do. Consent’s a thing, dick.”

  Cal’s smile faded. “It wasn’t like that. He wanted it.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you say so. But it was really fucking reckless,” Bastian said without bothering to look up.

  “How? How was it reckless? The door was locked. He gagged me, so I couldn’t make any sound. What’s the worst that could happen?” Cal asked.

  “Uh, you have some kind of diabetic crisis with our headmaster’s dick buried in your ass, and he’s forced to explain how he fucked you into a coma and possibly death?”

  Cal snorted. “When you put it like that, it sounds dirty.”

  “It is dirty, man. Like, Gideon’s one of the few clients who we don’t have to worry is going to be a total fucking creeper. He and Hillary are tight. This could totally blow back on me, on you, on her, and especially on Gideon who’s just some rich old guy with a lot of baggage about his dead husband.”

  Cal felt a twinge of something just beneath his ribcage, regret maybe? “First of all, there’s not going to be any blowback. He didn’t fuck me. He just…punished me, and he made me promise I’d checked my blood sugar and that I’d eaten before he’d even agree to that.”

  “So, you fucking lied to him?” Bastian countered. “You definitely didn’t check your sugar at school, and I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “I know what I’m doing, okay? Besides, I think he actually wanted to punish me. When it was over, he said he’d never intended to kick me out of school in the first place. He warned me not to think I could blackmail him or hold anything over his head. So, he must have had his own reasons for playing along, right? If not, he wouldn’t have done it.”

  A shock like ice water ran through his body as a thought occurred to him. What if that was Gideon letting Cal know that there wouldn’t be a next time? What if Gideon didn’t want to see Cal again? For some reason, the notion made Cal want to cry. Maybe he’d overplayed his hand?

  “Or are you just telling yourself that so you don’t feel like a dick for blackmailing a guy who gave you a thousand dollar tip that paid for the insulin you just shot yourself up with?”

  “It wasn’t like that. Look, you just don’t get it. You weren’t there. Something happened that night between us. There was a thing.”

  “I know how intense it can be. I’m not even into guys and I let him have a go at me when I got desperate enough for money. Even though guys aren’t my thing, the adrenaline…it makes you feel things that you probably wouldn’t feel if your body wasn’t all stressed out and shit. But it wasn’t real, man. You can’t keep chasing that high or you’ll take us all down with you.”

  Cal made a noise of frustration. “I’m not chasing some…high. That’s not what this is about.”

  “You don’t have your dad’s money and clout to get you out of shit anymore. There’s nobody to protect you from the consequences of your actions.”

  Cal had never wanted that protection. He would have given anything if his father had just cared enough to let Cal learn even a single lesson on his own. But that wasn’t his father’s style. His father wanted things handled quickly and with as little effort on his part as possible. Cal learned long ago that no amount of bad behavior would ever be enough to garner more than the slightest bit of attention from his dad. There was always a conference call or a meeting or a benefit he needed to attend. Cal was an afterthought, an inconvenience. Cal was the nanny’s problem.

  “Look, I’m not going to do anything to fuck with Gideon, okay? I-I like him. I know you told me not to kiss him and that it would be intense, which it was, obviously. But the other stuff…that made it all worth it. It was…nice,” Cal finished lamely.

  Bastian paused the game once more to look at Cal. “What other stuff? The forced cuddling?”

  Cal shook his head. “All of it. Feeding each other noodles naked, laughing, taking a bath together…just talking. He even took care of me when my blood sugar dropped. It was just nice to have somebody actually pretend to give a shit.” Silence stretched taut like a wire between them as Bastian stared at him. “What?” Cal finally snapped.

  “You took a bath together? Fed each other? That’s…yeah, that’s not his usual thing.”

  Cal’s heart skipped in his chest at Bastian’s words. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s something more. I know it.”

  “I hope you’re right. ‘Cause if you’re not, you’re fucking with all our lives, not just Gideon’s.”

  “This better be important, Leo. I have tickets to La Boheme at eight-thirty. You’ve already interrupted my dinner plans. What is this all about?”

  Gideon swept his gaze across the others seated around the large oak table. Some of them had been sitting on this particular board of trustees for what seemed like forever. Others, like him, were newer, having been appointed to their seats for less than a decade. Despite him being the newest appointee, he felt the need to remind these people of a few important facts.

  He addressed Rosalind first since she was the only one he would call
a friend. “I wanted to bring you here to get a few things straight going forward since I’ll be acting as headmaster until the end of term.”

  The woman pushed a strand of silver hair back behind her ear, crossing her legs in her elegant black pantsuit. He liked her above all others on the board. She’d been close with Grant since they were in grade school, and she’d always treated Gideon as an equal.

  “And you thought this was important enough to call an emergency meeting with the board?” Roger Koch asked, tone bored as he tapped out a message on his phone.

  Roger, on the other hand, had probably been on the board since God himself was a boy. The man looked like he’d died a hundred years ago and somebody had forgotten to remind him to lie down. His perfectly tailored suit was in direct opposition with his deeply lined face and his yellowing, crooked teeth. Gideon had never understood how somebody with so much money wouldn’t have spent at least a bit of it on oral hygiene.

  “Yes, well, considering all of you sat here just last week and made it a point to remind me that it was my duty to step in and cover for the acting headmaster, and that my late husband would have wanted it that way, I thought I’d take this opportunity to remind you that I am a majority shareholder and the sole major donor to Roosevelt Prep. I will not have you using me as a pawn to bully a student who’s already under immense pressure in the last semester of his senior year.”

  “All this is about the Whyte boy? Seriously?” Jerome Bechtel asked, disgusted. “I told you he’d make this an issue,” he said, addressing the others seated around the table. “You can put him in a thousand dollar suit, but he’s still just a day laborer who managed to seduce his boss. Never forget that.”

  Gideon gave a cold smile. “Be that as it may, I still control Grant’s shares and where our charitable donations go. The boy will finish out his year at the school without being bullied for his father’s actions. I would think that a bunch of adults would have far better things to do than attempt to ruin the life of one nineteen-year-old young man who had nothing to do with his father’s scheming. If you want to take it out on anybody, I suggest looking to whichever ‘friend’ told you Whyte’s investments were a good idea to begin with.”

  “I’ll not sit here and be lectured by the likes of you. You should be grateful somebody like you was ever even invited into our inner circle. Grant’s father would have rolled over in his grave when his son married the help. If you won’t do this one simple task for the good of the school, we’ll find a way to get it done without you,” Bechtel said.

  “I’ve tolerated your barbs and jabs for the last six years because, quite frankly, I can’t think of anybody whose opinions matter less to me than those belonging to you all sitting here. Not you, of course, Rosalind. But the rest of you would do well to remember that I’m not, in fact, a day laborer but a Harvard educated doctor with tenure and a great big pile of cash that affords me a great deal of freedom. Don’t push me on this. You won’t like how it ends. Each of you has far more to lose than I do.”

  Gideon sipped his coffee as he tapped out a reply on the endless stream of emails flowing into the headmaster’s inbox. Angry parents had started emailing him this morning, no doubt at the board’s urging, advising him that they didn’t want their children attending school with a criminal’s son. He was tempted to write back that a large majority of the wealthy parents were criminals themselves, or at least complicit in criminal behaviors, but he knew nothing good would come of stoking the flames of their anger. So, instead, he gave each of them the same passive aggressive response and moved onto the next. He wouldn’t cower nor could they sway him, so there was no reason to prolong any interaction.

  He paused his typing as there was a timid knock at the door. Gideon’s cock stiffened immediately.

  “Enter.”

  Cal pushed the door open, that stubborn lock of hair falling over one eye. “You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting an attack from behind.

  Gideon couldn’t help but notice the faint dark circles under the boy’s eyes and his hollowed cheeks. Cal was clearly under a great deal of stress. He had removed his uniform jacket at some point. He’d likely hung it in his locker since it was lunch period.

  “Yes, Callum. Come in and close the door.” Cal’s eyes widened, but he did as Gideon commanded. He was such a good listener. “Lock it.”

  When the lock clicked into place, Cal turned to face him, his expression uncertain. Gone was the cocky little shit who’d threatened to out his proclivities to the world. Part of Gideon wondered how long that would last. Which Cal was the real Cal? The nervous boy slumped against his door or the smug kid who’d acted as though he had it all figured out? Maybe they were both Cal. Either way, Gideon didn’t like the way the boy looked.

  “Come here.”

  Cal glanced around nervously before carefully setting his bag down by the door and moving closer. Gideon crooked his finger and rolled his desk chair back so the boy understood where Gideon wanted him. When Cal stood between Gideon and his desk, the boy dropped his gaze to his feet like the perfect docile little boy.

  “Turn around.”

  Cal’s gaze flicked to Gideon’s, his eyes wide as saucers. Fear. “I’m not going to punish you, little bird. Do as you’re told.” Cal turned slowly. “Palms on the desk. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

  Gideon reached around, opening the boy’s belt and pants, letting them pool around his ankles, taking a moment to appreciate the boy’s red and white striped boxer briefs molded against his perfectly formed ass before carefully sliding the fabric down to his knees. Cal’s skin was a mixture of black and blue, purple and yellow, red welts and faint handprints. It was so beautiful. He held the boy’s shirt out of the way so he could drag his lips across each of the raised red bumps. Cal gasped before giving a shuddering exhale.

  Perhaps he’d been a bit overzealous with the boy’s punishment yesterday. He’d thought that was what Cal wanted, but he was so clearly starved for attention of any kind that whether it came in the form of discipline or affection seemed not to matter. Gideon remembered that feeling well. He needed to take more care with the boy, even if it was only for six weeks. “Are you in any pain?”

  “No, Daddy,” Cal said, voice hoarse.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Gideon demanded. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m not lying, Daddy,” Cal rushed to assure him. “It aches a little like a sunburn, but I like it.”

  Gideon’s cock throbbed at Cal’s words. “Yeah? Did you think about me every time you sat down last night?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Cal whispered.

  Gideon smiled at the boy’s breathlessness. “Did it make you hard?”

  Cal sucked in a breath. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Did you touch yourself?”

  Cal shook his head before seeming to remember that he needed to verbalize his response. “No, Daddy.”

  “Turn around.” Cal did as Gideon commanded, flushing a deep red when Gideon noted he was fully hard, his cock as red as the tips of his ears and straining against his belly. “Are you lying about touching yourself?” Gideon asked, caressing the skin of the boy’s lower abdomen, ignoring his erection entirely.

  Cal shook his head vehemently. “No, Daddy. I share a room with two other people. I can’t unless I take a shower.”

  Gideon chuckled. “Did you want to touch yourself when thinking of me?”

  Cal whimpered, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Gideon believed in rewarding good behavior, but he also wanted to wipe that hunted look off the boy’s face.

  “I’m assuming Hillary made you get tested before she’d hire you.”

  Cal frowned but nodded. “Yes, I’m negative.”

  Gideon nodded. “Take your clothes off and hang them on the coat rack over there. When you’re done, come back here.”

  Cal said nothing, his hands shaking as he attempted to unbutton his shirt. Gideon shoved
his hands away, helping the boy for the sake of time and his patience. Only when Cal was fully naked before him did he wrap his hand around the boy’s aching cock. Just one squeeze had Cal’s eyelids fluttering and a whine escaping his lips. “Was there anybody in the office?” Gideon asked, tone casual as he stroked Cal’s cock.

  “N-No… N-oh, fuck. Daddy. Lunch. They’ve all gone to lunch.”

  Gideon watched the boy’s face as he asked, “What time is your next class?”

  “I have a free—oh, God—a free period until one-forty-five. Ungh.”

  That was plenty of time for what Gideon had in mind. He pulled the lube from his drawer. Cal’s gaze locked on the bottle before darting to Gideon, pupils blown wide, clearly as turned on as he was wary. “Lie back on the desk, little bird. Good boys get rewarded.”

  “On the desk?” Cal blurted.

  Gideon chuckled. “Yes, lie back, feet on the arms of my chair.”

  Cal was breathing heavy, and Gideon hadn’t even touched him yet. So responsive. The boy was perfect. “I don’t want to have to gag you, but if you get too noisy, I will. I’m going to make you feel so good, but you’ll have to wait for it, like a good boy. Think you can do that for me, baby?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Cal said, but he didn’t sound confident.

  “Good. Let’s begin.”

  Gideon lubed up his hands before wrapping a slick fist around Cal’s cock, jerking him slowly while the other massaged his balls. The boy moaned obscenely, arching his hips off the desk. Gideon let him briefly fuck into his fist before taking his hand away and massaging the boy’s lower abdomen and the spot just behind his balls. Cal whined in confusion, but Gideon didn’t relent. He took his time, massaging the head of the boy’s cock with both thumbs until he was leaking, only to release him entirely, playing at Cal’s entrance.

  Each time he took the boy’s cock back in his hand, Cal panted harder, half-bitten whines falling from his lips, his hips bouncing as he tried to fuck himself up into Gideon’s tightened fist, groaning in frustration when Gideon stopped touching him. Cal’s whole body was flushed pink, his skin glistening with sweat, his cock oozing precum. But Gideon was a patient man, and he was going to teach Cal that good things came to those who waited. Every time he stopped, it only served to make Cal’s final release all the more exquisite, but he was far past understanding that. “Why are you punishing me? You said I did good.”