Page 18 of Disciplinary Action
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?”
