Fic: "Three Strikes" (The Devil You Know)
Title: Three Strikes
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Neal, implied Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Slavery, sexual slavery, extremely dubious consent, spanking, figging, rimming
Word count: 5300
Summary: Three of Neal's misdeeds are discovered on the same day. Peter isn't happy.
Notes: Part of the Devil you Know series. I still intend to write more fic in this series that majorly drives the story forward, but this is just a kinky piece about Neal getting in trouble.
The trouble started when Peter realized he needed to pay his credit card bill, and decided to do it from work.
"Neal," he said, his eyes fixed on the computer screen, "have you used my credit card?"
Neal was sitting across from the desk, idly looking at a newspaper. The question gave him a surge of panic, but he remained cool.
"Why would you think that?"
Peter looked at him, squinting like he had x-ray vision. "Because it's exactly the kind of thing you'd do, and there's a twelve-dollar charge on here that I don't recognize."
"Maybe you bought lunch and forgot."
"I don't think I purchased lunch from a company called-" he looked at the screen "-Handel Leatherworks."
"You know, credit card theft is rampant."
"I know. Funny how there's only one charge, and it was less than twenty dollars. Not typical credit card thief behavior, is it? More like 'slave who wants to buy something behind his master's back' behavior. Neal?"
Neal had been sure Peter wouldn't pay that close of attention. This was the card he used to buy lunch and coffee with on a regular basis. What was twelve extra dollars?
"I just wanted to order one little thing online. I didn't think it'd be a big deal."
"Obviously, you figured I wouldn't approve if you asked me. What was it?"
Neal shrugged. "Just a couple leatherworking tools. I thought I could monogram my wallet, but I figured you'd assume the worst and say no."
If Peter assumed the worst, he'd be right. Neal had been thinking lately about how he could make his own FBI badge. It could be useful. If he could engrave the FBI seal, that would help.
Peter pursed his lips and shook his head. "Dammit, Neal. You can't do this. Not only did you betray my trust, but it's illegal for a slave to use a credit card. Do you want to wind up at a punishment center for a few days?"
Neal sobered. "No."
"I didn't think so. Consider yourself lucky you're just getting a spanking from me later. And I think I'll be taking away your money for a few weeks. You need to earn back the privilege."
As far as punishments went, it could be worse. Still, he wished Peter could have a sense of humor about this.
Neal slumped in his chair and studied his fingernails.
"Oh, don't sulk. And listen, this is a busy day for me. I don't need you adding to it."
Agent Bancroft was in town, and Peter was going to meet with him and Hughes later. He'd impressed upon Neal that morning that he was to be on his best behavior. He was clearly concerned about his slave acting up in front of his bosses. Neal was half of a mind to teach Peter a lesson and have a little fun, but he didn't actually want to piss off the FBI brass.
But it was looking to be a boring day cooped up in Peter's office, and now he had a spanking to look forward to, as well.
An hour later, Peter gave him his mug and sent him to refill it. Neal was glad for something to do, even if he bristled at being treated like an errand boy. He wished Peter would send him out to buy coffee, instead. But he supposed asking to handle money today would be too much.
As he was filling Peter's mug, someone walked past, toward Peter's office. Neal saw her out of the corner of his eye, and then did a double take when he realized it was Agent Hastings.
She saw him, too. There was no chance to hide his collar, but worryingly, she didn't look surprised to see it. She fixed him with a cool look before heading up the stairs to Peter's office.
Agent Hastings handled cybercrimes. She was fairly young, not long out of Quantico, and under better circumstances, Neal might have asked her out. Neal had only spoken to her once, but she was nice.
Neal watched as she rapped on the doorframe of Peter's office and was invited in. She closed the door behind her, but Neal could see her through the glass wall as she sat across from the desk.
Neal stayed where he was. He took his time stirring the cream in Peter's coffee, but gave frequent glances toward Peter's office. He saw Peter's expression grow increasingly dismayed.
After a few minutes, Peter caught Neal's eye and gave him the dreaded two-finger point.
Hesitating would just make him look guilty. Neal climbed the steps to Peter's office and, as he entered, adopted and innocent, carefree expression.
"Here's your coffee," he said, setting the mug in front of Peter.
"Neal," Peter said, "have a seat."
Neal sat in the chair next to Agent Hastings.
Peter continued. "Neal, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest. Did you conceal your collar with a scarf and tell Agent Hastings here that you were an agent?"
Smiling, Neal said, "What? No, I mean, I never said I was an agent." Looking to his left, he smiled apologetically at Agent Hastings. "I'm sorry-I remember saying I worked in white collar and I guess I gave you the wrong impression."
Neither Agent Hastings nor Peter looked the least bit convinced.
"And it was just luck that you happened to be wearing a scarf?" Peter asked.
"It's January in New York."
Peter turned to Agent Hastings. "Maria, I am truly sorry about this. I can assure you that he's going to be severely punished." As he said that last bit, he looked Neal in the eye.
"Well," Agent Hastings said, "I'm not saying I want him drawn and quartered. It's not like he got any top secret information. I'm willing to take some blame for believing him. I just thought you should know what he's up to. Also, I find it a little suspicious that a slave would want a copy of one of my old casefiles. I can't imagine what he was hoping to find."
"No, I can't either."
Neal was worried she'd stick around for an explanation, but she didn't seem too concerned about what he wanted with a two-year-old hacking case that had been solved.
As soon as she was gone, however, Peter didn't waste any time.
"Neal, what the hell were you doing? Why did you want to see her casefile?"
"It's nothing. Honest."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"I'm sort of acquainted with the guy who was convicted in that case. He's a slave who belongs to one of Elizabeth's clients. He was telling me what he could do, and I wanted to know if he was telling the truth."
"And is there any particular reason you care about whether he was being truthful?"
The truth was, he'd told Neal that he'd figured out how to hack into Slave Control's servers and manipulate tracking data from slave collars. The case file had confirmed that he was probably capable of it. Whether he had the resources was another matter.
But he couldn't tell Peter this.
"I was just curious about the case."
Peter pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "Do you have any idea how irresponsible you've been? It is not acceptable to embarrass me at work like this. And if Agent Hastings complained, I wouldn't be able to bring you to work anymore. Or I'd have to put you in restraints. Is that what you want?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. And I know you're not telling me the whole truth about the casefile. I swear to God, if you get yourself in trouble again and it's related to this, you will wish you came clean now. Understand?"
"Yes, but-"
"No. No 'buts.' You're lucky this didn't happen while Bancroft was here. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you today. You stole my credit card. You're posing as an FBI agent. I thought I could expect better from you by now."
Neal shifted in his chair. "Well, technically, I didn't do either of those things today. And I didn't steal your card. I just...borrowed it."
This had the opposite effect on Peter than Neal intended. Peter glared at him for a long moment. As the seconds ticked by, Neal became increasingly agitated. He'd pushed Peter too far today. Maybe if Bancroft weren't coming, or one of Neal's offenses wasn't FBI-related, he could have diffused things. But no, something was going to happen, and Neal sensed he wasn't going to like it.
Abruptly, Peter got up. He walked around the desk and hooked a hand under Neal's arm, pulling him to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
"You're eager for a spanking today, so I'm going to give you one."
"What? You don't mean here?"
For a moment, Neal was scared Peter was actually going to spank him in this room, where everyone could see him through the glass. He'd never live it down. But instead, Peter opened the door with his free hand and pulled Neal out of the office. As Peter led him through the bullpen, Neal was aware of several agents watching curiously.
Peter led him down a hallway in the back. He stopped in front of an office and let go of Neal so that he could open the door and peek inside. The office was vacant. There was a desk, a filing cabinet, and a couple chairs, but not much else. It was dark, with only light from the transom window and the hallway filtering inside.
"Good. I thought this was still empty. Come on."
Neal had backed up a couple steps, but Peter reached out and grabbed his arm, reeling him into the office. Peter shut the door behind them.
"Peter, please. Can't this wait until later?"
"No. This is what happens when you can't behave yourself at work."
"That's not fair. I didn't use your credit card here. I used it at home."
"I'm more upset about you posing as an FBI agent. The credit card is the icing on the cake."
Peter pulled an armless chair away from the desk and sat down. He crooked his finger at Neal, beckoning him over. Neal walked over, but he wasn't about to give up.
"It's cruel and unusual, doing this here."
"Would you rather be spanked in my office?"
"No, that's not what I meant...."
"I didn't think so."
Peter grabbed Neal's hips, pulling him forward. Then, he roughly undid Neal's belt. Neal put his hands down to stop him, and Peter swatted them away. Neal reluctantly let his hands fall to his sides, and stayed still as Peter opened his fly and pulled his pants and underwear to his knees.
"Can I keep my underwear on?"
"Have I ever let you keep your underwear on?"
"But what if someone-"
"Just be glad I'm not the sort of guy to spank you in front of everyone. Now come on. Over my knee."
Neal knew there was no point in resisting, but he still moved slowly as he stepped around to Peter's side. A little too slowly, perhaps, because as soon as he started leaning over Peter's lap, Peter pulled him down the rest of the way and manhandled him into position. Neal grunted as his balls pressed against Peter's thigh, and squirmed as Peter reached around to rearrange Neal's genitals so that they hung down out of harm's way.
Neal was used to this type of treatment at home, but not here. He was so busy wondering if everyone knew why Peter had pulled him back here that he wasn't prepared for the first slap to his ass. It was ridiculously loud, echoing off the bare office walls, and Neal was sure it could be heard in the bullpen. He tried to get up, but Peter's strong arm was pinning him down.
Peter commenced with the onslaught without delay. He worked tirelessly, bringing his palm down on every inch of Neal's burning ass. He paid special attention to Neal's thighs. That was the worst-if Peter wanted to make sure Neal couldn’t sit down comfortably for a while, he knew to give his thighs a thorough spanking.
The blood rushed to Neal's head, and he wasn't sure how much of it was from hanging upside down over Peter's lap and how much was from the indignity he was suffering.
Once he'd gotten into a rhythm, Peter began to lecture.
"I'm going to make sure you think twice before sneaking around like this. On the way home tonight, we're stopping by the store and we're going to pick up some ginger, and you're going to have it inside your bottom for a while."
Neal groaned. He hated figging.
He hung his head, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. He started to think of ways he could make Peter feel guilty. He could complain about how much it hurt to sit down, or he could pretend he was getting sick.
In the meantime, Peter showed no sign of winding down. Maybe Peter would regret this when his hand hurt afterward.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Peter abruptly stopped spanking, and Neal tried to get up, only to find himself still impeded by Peter's arm around his waist. He scrambled for a moment, but his feet gave out from under him and he collapsed against Peter.
"Yes?" Peter called out.
The door opened a crack, and Jones peeked inside. Neal hung his head and tried to ignore the fact that Jones could see his bare ass.
"Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but Bancroft is here."
"Dammit," Peter muttered. "All right. I'll be right there."
Jones shut the door, and Neal heard his footsteps retreating. But it was too late for Neal to recover his dignity.
He tried, again, to get up. But Peter planted a firm hand on his back.
"You just stay put until I let you up."
"But Bancroft-"
"Can wait a few more seconds."
He gave Neal a few more swats, but it was obviously just to prove a point. Peter never let spankings end when Neal wanted them to.
Once Peter had gotten the final say in with the palm of his hand, he let Neal up. Neal quickly pulled up his pants and underwear.
"You can sit in my office while I'm in my meeting," Peter said. "I expect you to stay there."
"What if I need to use the bathroom?"
"You can wait. I shouldn't be more than an hour."
"What if I can't wait? Should I go on the floor?"
Peter gave him a warning look. "If you think you need to go, I can take you on the way. Otherwise, if it's an emergency, you come to the conference room to ask me. You leave my office without doing so, I give you another spanking. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Neal muttered.
Neal didn't really have to go to the bathroom, and he didn't like the idea of trying to go while Peter watched. So he went straight back to Peter's office and settled into Peter's chair, sulking.
Peter's meeting ended up running closer to an hour and a half. Neal entertained himself by doodling on a piece of printer paper. At one point, Jones came in and offered him half a package of cookies. He didn't say a word about what he'd seen in the vacant office, and Neal appreciated that, even if his pride was still wounded.
When Peter returned to his office, he shooed Neal out of his chair. Neal was good for a while, but kneeling beside Peter's desk was the most boring way to spend an afternoon, and as the sting started to go out of Neal's ass, his boldness started to return.
And now he did have to pee.
"Peter? Can I go to the bathroom now?"
He hoped Peter wouldn't insist on accompanying him. Luckily, Peter was too busy working on a report.
"Fine. Just come back when you're done."
Neal scurried off to the bathroom, where he took his time washing his hands and looking at himself in the mirror. When he was done, he was in no hurry to return. Peter wouldn't know the difference if he took a few extra minutes. He didn't say Neal had to come back immediately.
On his way back from the restroom, he passed by the office vending machines. He didn't have any change on him. He wasn't allowed to carry money as a rule. But Neal had figured out a way to improvise.
He looked around first to make sure no one was around. Then, he reached behind one of the machines, where he'd hidden his tool.
It was a wire hanger that he'd stolen from a closet at home. He'd straightened out the body and bent it into a curve. If he worked it through the slot and angled it upward, he could use the hook to pull down a bag of chips.
He got down to his knees and worked the hanger inside the machine. He almost had it in position when there was movement in the reflection in the glass. He pulled the hanger out and shot up, but it was too late.
"I believe this is the first time I've witnessed a robbery taking place inside the FBI."
Neal turned around. Agent Bancroft was standing there, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Technically, I don't think this fits the definition of robbery."
Bancroft gave him a small smile. "I suppose a man with your record would know his legal definitions."
Neal was starting to feel confident that he could talk his way out of this when he saw Peter striding over, a thinly-veiled look of panic on his face.
"Neal, what's going on here?" He turned to Bancroft. "I hope he isn't disturbing you, sir."
"No, he was just demonstrating his method for getting items out of vending machines. I'm sure we can give him the benefit of the doubt that he paid and the machine ate his money."
Peter saw the tool in Neal's hand, and his eyes widened. "I should hope so. Neal knows that stealing isn't tolerated."
Peter stepped over to Neal and put an arm around his shoulders. His fingers dug into Neal's arm. With his other hand, he took the hanger from Neal.
"I'll take my slave back to my office, now. I promise Neal will stay out of trouble for the next couple hours."
"Seems like you've got your work cut out for you."
Peter led Neal back in the direction of his office, holding Neal to his side with a firm arm around his waist. Once they were out of earshot from Bancroft, he said, "What were you thinking? Please tell me this is the first time."
Neal opened his mouth to respond, but Peter stopped him.
"No, actually, don't say anything. Who am I kidding? Of course you've done it before. I don't want to hear whatever verbal gymnastics you come up with to try to deny it. But did you have to do it when Bancroft is here? He's my boss's boss, Neal."
"He didn't seem that upset."
Peter released his hold on Neal and gave him a quick swat on the ass. In the middle of the bullpen.
Several agents looked up from their desks, and Neal tried to act like nothing just happened. Peter grabbed his arm and dragged him the rest of the way to his office.
"On your knees. I'm keeping you where I can watch you."
Neal knew better than to argue.
* * *
Neal had hoped Peter would forget about his promise to stop at the grocery store for ginger, but after the run-in with Bancroft, Neal figured the chance for leniency had passed.
Sure enough, Peter insisted on stopping on the way home, and Neal hung back in the produce department while Peter picked out what looked like largest hand of ginger in the bin.
When they got home, Peter told him to strip and wait in the living room. Neal could hear Peter in the kitchen, telling Elizabeth all about Neal's misdeeds while he got the punishment ready.
"I thought it was odd that a package came for you today," Elizabeth said. There was a pause, and then she said, "Yep, the return address says Handel Leatherworks."
It was typical of Neal's luck today that the package had arrived early. He'd timed his order in hopes that it would arrived when Elizabeth was out of town. She was going away to an event planning expo in Pennsylvania tomorrow. It would have been easier to intercept the package when it was just him and Peter.
Then again, maybe it was for the best, considering. If the package hadn't come today, Peter would probably search his room to make sure he didn't have the improperly-purchased tools hidden. And there was no way Neal could intercept any packages while Peter was on high alert.
Neal realized he was probably running out of time, and that he hadn't undressed yet. He quickly started to undress, and was just peeling his underwear off when Peter came in, carrying a large finger of ginger that had been peeled and carved into a plug. He also had the kitchen timer.
"Did you have to make so big?"
"I'm going to sit on the sofa so you can lie across my lap. Let's get this done."
There was no arguing with Peter today. Peter sat on the sofa, and Neal climbed across his lap, positioning his ass over Peter's thigh. There wasn't quite enough room, so one of his legs hung off, spreading his ass and making him feel vulnerable.
But apparently, he wasn't spread enough.
"Can you open yourself up for me?" Peter asked.
It wasn't really a request. With a sigh, Neal reached back with his right hand and pulled his buttock aside, exposing himself. Peter placed a hand on Neal's lower back, and pressed the ginger against his hole. He twisted it, working it inside the tight opening. Neal wiggled.
"Stay still. It's not in yet."
"It feels like it is."
Peter pushed it in further and let Neal's hole close around the indentation he'd carved. Peter grasped the base and squeezed.
The juice started to burn almost immediately. Neal squirmed as his ass began to tingle.
There were some beeps as Peter set the timer.
"All right, Neal. Ten minutes." Peter rubbed his back with one hand, and twisted the ginger with the other, igniting more burning in Neal's ass. "I know you think I'm being too strict right now. I'm sure you think I'm just angry. But it's not just that. I'm concerned about how you've been slipping lately. I want you to feel comfortable and confident, but your problem is that you're comfortable when you're lying and stealing."
Neal buried his face in the crook of his arm. He heard Elizabeth come into the room.
"Hon, I have the other piece of ginger. I'll set it here."
The other piece? Was Peter going to replace this one when he decided it wasn't potent enough anymore?
Elizabeth took a moment to run her hand through Neal's hair. Her nails felt good against his scalp, and he was disappointed when she stepped away.
Finally, the timer beeped. Peter turned it off, and then worked the ginger out of Neal's ass, leaving him feeling empty and open.
Peter patted Neal's ass and said. "I want you to get up and sit on my lap, facing away from me. Can you try to do that?"
Neal didn't understand the request, but he obeyed. It felt strange to straddle Peter's lap while he was naked and Peter was clothed, and he had a bad feeling about it. He was sure Peter was about to do something he wouldn't like.
Elizabeth was sitting in a nearby armchair, and Neal hated that she could see him in such an undignified position.
Peter picked up the fresh piece of ginger from the side table. With his other hand, he grabbed Neal's cock, angling it upward to expose the glans.
Neal tensed as he realized what was going to happen. "No, Peter, you can't."
Peter rubbed the ginger across the sensitive head of Neal's cock and pressed it against the slit. Neal's eyes watered and he squirmed on Peter's lap.
"It's okay," Peter said. "We're almost done here."
He continued the torture for another minute, and then set the ginger aside. Neal sniffled and fought the urge to wipe his eyes.
Peter kissed his cheek. "That's it. Your punishment is over. Here, why don't you rest on the sofa for a minute?"
He helped Neal lie down on the sofa with his head and shoulders in his lap. He ran a hand through Neal's hair.
"I've been thinking that you need a little more discipline to get you back on track, so I don't have to punish you too much. One of my books recommends trying maintenance spankings."
"Maintenance spankings?" Neal asked, horrified.
"It's not so bad. It's not like getting a punishment spanking. How it'd work is that we'd talk about your behavior every week, and I'd give you a short, light spanking with my hand to remind you to behave. If you're good and don't earn any actual punishments, we'd switch to doing it every other week, and then once a month. But if you earn a punishment, you're back on the weekly schedule. I know it sounds harsh, but some slaves do really well on that system. It reminds them what happens if they misbehave."
Neal couldn't believe what he was hearing. Whoever devised such a system must have been the worst master ever.
Neal lifted his head and angled his neck so that he was looking up at Peter. "Haven't I been punished enough?"
Elizabeth spoke up. "Oh, sweetheart. Your punishment is done, but what about next time? We can't just keep escalating it to try to get through to you. Maybe regular, consistent discipline would help us avoid that."
"But I hate getting spanked. It is a punishment. Why should I bother following the rules if I'm going to get spanked anyway?"
Peter rubbed Neal's ass. "Okay. So what's your idea? This is for your benefit, so you tell me what you think would work."
"I can't promise anything. You know that."
"But I need some assurance that you can listen to me."
Neal wiggled on Peter's lap and pushed himself up. "What if I let you do whatever you want to me? You could come in my face and I wouldn't complain. Or I could give you a rimjob."
Neal didn't like rimming, but it was better than getting spanked. And Peter was a lot more agreeable when his libido was kept sated.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "We don't want you to see sex as something unpleasant you have to do."
"He has a point, El. Maybe we've been neglecting him lately. Slaves who have plenty of opportunities to serve are more grounded. I want Neal to enjoy himself, but all the experts say that it's good for slaves to submit to their owners."
"Well," Neal said, "you wouldn't want to desensitize me. I was thinking we could keep doing like we have been, but a couple days a month, I'd do whatever you want."
He hoped Peter would buy it, because it seemed like the best solution. Sucking up to Peter in the bedroom was the easiest way of making him feel like he was in control.
Peter stroked Neal's hair while he contemplated it. "Okay. I'll go take a shower, and then you can show me how well-behaved you're going to be."
* * *
Neal waited for Peter in the master bedroom, stretched out naked and alone on the bed.
He wondered how long it would take before Peter loosened his grip on the leash, so to speak. Neal was starting to wish he'd been more careful. Were a small purchase, a bit of information, and some free snacks worth all this? And despite his indignation at his treatment, he did want Peter's trust. He'd been careless, and now he was being treated more like a slave again. At least he'd saved himself from a regimen of maintenance spankings.
Peter came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Neal turned his face away and blinked away the tears that had been forming, but Peter might have seen them.
"It's all right, you know," he said gently as he sat on the bed. He stroked Neal's hip. "I'm not mad at you anymore. But I am going to have to keep a closer eye on you for a while. You know that, right?"
Neal nodded, miserable.
"It won't be so bad. And as long as you try to behave, you won't have to worry about getting spanked at the office again."
Peter stood and dropped his towel. His cock was already half-hard, probably from the promise of what he was going to be getting. He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay on his back, propped against the pillows. He bent his knees and spread them wide.
"C'mon, Neal. You know what to do."
Neal didn't particularly care for this position, because the last time he'd done this, Peter came in his hair. But he'd promised obedience, and backing out now wouldn't help matters. Sitting up, Neal crawled between Peter's spread legs and dropped to his stomach.
Neal gently lifted Peter's balls out the way and licked at Peter's perineum. He'd read that the prostate could be stimulated externally through the perineum. He didn't think his tongue was strong enough to accomplish that, but judging from Peter's sharp intake of breath, having his perineum licked felt good. Neal licked his way all the way up to the base of Peter's balls, and then tickled them a little with the tip of his tongue.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter stroking his cock. With his free hand, Peter threaded his fingers through Neal's hair and gently pushed down on his head.
Neal got the message. He worked his way back down until his tongue found Peter's tight asshole. His hole twitched at the contact, but after a few moments, Neal felt Peter's muscles relax.
"Oh yeah, that's good," Peter said softly. "It's been too long since you've done this."
Though this wasn't Neal's favorite task, there was something relaxing about it. He didn't have to use nearly as much skill as he did when sucking Peter's cock. Peter was content to jerk himself off, and all Neal had to do was swirl his tongue around in gentle whorls.
After a few minutes, his tongue began to get tired, and it was harder to move it in a steady rhythm. But he could hear Peter breathing heavily, and knew he was close to coming. He kept going.
Peter made a strangled cry, and Neal felt something wet slide down his forehead. He stopped licking and screwed his eyes shut to keep the semen from getting in them.
He heard Peter grab some tissues from the box on the nightstand.
"Hold still. Let me clean you up." He dabbed Neal's forehead and ruffled his hair a bit.
"There you go. A quick shower and you'll be as good as new."
If come got in his hair, Neal was sure it'd take ages to get it out. But he didn't complain. He knelt up and climbed out from between Peter's legs. He collapsed beside Peter on the bed.
"See?" he said. "I can be a good slave."
Peter hugged him close. "I know. I think you can be whatever you set your mind toward. And I know you can be good if you want to be."
If it meant avoiding more office spankings and more ginger torment, Neal would be a very, very good slave. At least until Peter put his guard down again.
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/138232.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Neal, implied Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Slavery, sexual slavery, extremely dubious consent, spanking, figging, rimming
Word count: 5300
Summary: Three of Neal's misdeeds are discovered on the same day. Peter isn't happy.
Notes: Part of the Devil you Know series. I still intend to write more fic in this series that majorly drives the story forward, but this is just a kinky piece about Neal getting in trouble.
The trouble started when Peter realized he needed to pay his credit card bill, and decided to do it from work.
"Neal," he said, his eyes fixed on the computer screen, "have you used my credit card?"
Neal was sitting across from the desk, idly looking at a newspaper. The question gave him a surge of panic, but he remained cool.
"Why would you think that?"
Peter looked at him, squinting like he had x-ray vision. "Because it's exactly the kind of thing you'd do, and there's a twelve-dollar charge on here that I don't recognize."
"Maybe you bought lunch and forgot."
"I don't think I purchased lunch from a company called-" he looked at the screen "-Handel Leatherworks."
"You know, credit card theft is rampant."
"I know. Funny how there's only one charge, and it was less than twenty dollars. Not typical credit card thief behavior, is it? More like 'slave who wants to buy something behind his master's back' behavior. Neal?"
Neal had been sure Peter wouldn't pay that close of attention. This was the card he used to buy lunch and coffee with on a regular basis. What was twelve extra dollars?
"I just wanted to order one little thing online. I didn't think it'd be a big deal."
"Obviously, you figured I wouldn't approve if you asked me. What was it?"
Neal shrugged. "Just a couple leatherworking tools. I thought I could monogram my wallet, but I figured you'd assume the worst and say no."
If Peter assumed the worst, he'd be right. Neal had been thinking lately about how he could make his own FBI badge. It could be useful. If he could engrave the FBI seal, that would help.
Peter pursed his lips and shook his head. "Dammit, Neal. You can't do this. Not only did you betray my trust, but it's illegal for a slave to use a credit card. Do you want to wind up at a punishment center for a few days?"
Neal sobered. "No."
"I didn't think so. Consider yourself lucky you're just getting a spanking from me later. And I think I'll be taking away your money for a few weeks. You need to earn back the privilege."
As far as punishments went, it could be worse. Still, he wished Peter could have a sense of humor about this.
Neal slumped in his chair and studied his fingernails.
"Oh, don't sulk. And listen, this is a busy day for me. I don't need you adding to it."
Agent Bancroft was in town, and Peter was going to meet with him and Hughes later. He'd impressed upon Neal that morning that he was to be on his best behavior. He was clearly concerned about his slave acting up in front of his bosses. Neal was half of a mind to teach Peter a lesson and have a little fun, but he didn't actually want to piss off the FBI brass.
But it was looking to be a boring day cooped up in Peter's office, and now he had a spanking to look forward to, as well.
An hour later, Peter gave him his mug and sent him to refill it. Neal was glad for something to do, even if he bristled at being treated like an errand boy. He wished Peter would send him out to buy coffee, instead. But he supposed asking to handle money today would be too much.
As he was filling Peter's mug, someone walked past, toward Peter's office. Neal saw her out of the corner of his eye, and then did a double take when he realized it was Agent Hastings.
She saw him, too. There was no chance to hide his collar, but worryingly, she didn't look surprised to see it. She fixed him with a cool look before heading up the stairs to Peter's office.
Agent Hastings handled cybercrimes. She was fairly young, not long out of Quantico, and under better circumstances, Neal might have asked her out. Neal had only spoken to her once, but she was nice.
Neal watched as she rapped on the doorframe of Peter's office and was invited in. She closed the door behind her, but Neal could see her through the glass wall as she sat across from the desk.
Neal stayed where he was. He took his time stirring the cream in Peter's coffee, but gave frequent glances toward Peter's office. He saw Peter's expression grow increasingly dismayed.
After a few minutes, Peter caught Neal's eye and gave him the dreaded two-finger point.
Hesitating would just make him look guilty. Neal climbed the steps to Peter's office and, as he entered, adopted and innocent, carefree expression.
"Here's your coffee," he said, setting the mug in front of Peter.
"Neal," Peter said, "have a seat."
Neal sat in the chair next to Agent Hastings.
Peter continued. "Neal, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest. Did you conceal your collar with a scarf and tell Agent Hastings here that you were an agent?"
Smiling, Neal said, "What? No, I mean, I never said I was an agent." Looking to his left, he smiled apologetically at Agent Hastings. "I'm sorry-I remember saying I worked in white collar and I guess I gave you the wrong impression."
Neither Agent Hastings nor Peter looked the least bit convinced.
"And it was just luck that you happened to be wearing a scarf?" Peter asked.
"It's January in New York."
Peter turned to Agent Hastings. "Maria, I am truly sorry about this. I can assure you that he's going to be severely punished." As he said that last bit, he looked Neal in the eye.
"Well," Agent Hastings said, "I'm not saying I want him drawn and quartered. It's not like he got any top secret information. I'm willing to take some blame for believing him. I just thought you should know what he's up to. Also, I find it a little suspicious that a slave would want a copy of one of my old casefiles. I can't imagine what he was hoping to find."
"No, I can't either."
Neal was worried she'd stick around for an explanation, but she didn't seem too concerned about what he wanted with a two-year-old hacking case that had been solved.
As soon as she was gone, however, Peter didn't waste any time.
"Neal, what the hell were you doing? Why did you want to see her casefile?"
"It's nothing. Honest."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"I'm sort of acquainted with the guy who was convicted in that case. He's a slave who belongs to one of Elizabeth's clients. He was telling me what he could do, and I wanted to know if he was telling the truth."
"And is there any particular reason you care about whether he was being truthful?"
The truth was, he'd told Neal that he'd figured out how to hack into Slave Control's servers and manipulate tracking data from slave collars. The case file had confirmed that he was probably capable of it. Whether he had the resources was another matter.
But he couldn't tell Peter this.
"I was just curious about the case."
Peter pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "Do you have any idea how irresponsible you've been? It is not acceptable to embarrass me at work like this. And if Agent Hastings complained, I wouldn't be able to bring you to work anymore. Or I'd have to put you in restraints. Is that what you want?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. And I know you're not telling me the whole truth about the casefile. I swear to God, if you get yourself in trouble again and it's related to this, you will wish you came clean now. Understand?"
"Yes, but-"
"No. No 'buts.' You're lucky this didn't happen while Bancroft was here. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you today. You stole my credit card. You're posing as an FBI agent. I thought I could expect better from you by now."
Neal shifted in his chair. "Well, technically, I didn't do either of those things today. And I didn't steal your card. I just...borrowed it."
This had the opposite effect on Peter than Neal intended. Peter glared at him for a long moment. As the seconds ticked by, Neal became increasingly agitated. He'd pushed Peter too far today. Maybe if Bancroft weren't coming, or one of Neal's offenses wasn't FBI-related, he could have diffused things. But no, something was going to happen, and Neal sensed he wasn't going to like it.
Abruptly, Peter got up. He walked around the desk and hooked a hand under Neal's arm, pulling him to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
"You're eager for a spanking today, so I'm going to give you one."
"What? You don't mean here?"
For a moment, Neal was scared Peter was actually going to spank him in this room, where everyone could see him through the glass. He'd never live it down. But instead, Peter opened the door with his free hand and pulled Neal out of the office. As Peter led him through the bullpen, Neal was aware of several agents watching curiously.
Peter led him down a hallway in the back. He stopped in front of an office and let go of Neal so that he could open the door and peek inside. The office was vacant. There was a desk, a filing cabinet, and a couple chairs, but not much else. It was dark, with only light from the transom window and the hallway filtering inside.
"Good. I thought this was still empty. Come on."
Neal had backed up a couple steps, but Peter reached out and grabbed his arm, reeling him into the office. Peter shut the door behind them.
"Peter, please. Can't this wait until later?"
"No. This is what happens when you can't behave yourself at work."
"That's not fair. I didn't use your credit card here. I used it at home."
"I'm more upset about you posing as an FBI agent. The credit card is the icing on the cake."
Peter pulled an armless chair away from the desk and sat down. He crooked his finger at Neal, beckoning him over. Neal walked over, but he wasn't about to give up.
"It's cruel and unusual, doing this here."
"Would you rather be spanked in my office?"
"No, that's not what I meant...."
"I didn't think so."
Peter grabbed Neal's hips, pulling him forward. Then, he roughly undid Neal's belt. Neal put his hands down to stop him, and Peter swatted them away. Neal reluctantly let his hands fall to his sides, and stayed still as Peter opened his fly and pulled his pants and underwear to his knees.
"Can I keep my underwear on?"
"Have I ever let you keep your underwear on?"
"But what if someone-"
"Just be glad I'm not the sort of guy to spank you in front of everyone. Now come on. Over my knee."
Neal knew there was no point in resisting, but he still moved slowly as he stepped around to Peter's side. A little too slowly, perhaps, because as soon as he started leaning over Peter's lap, Peter pulled him down the rest of the way and manhandled him into position. Neal grunted as his balls pressed against Peter's thigh, and squirmed as Peter reached around to rearrange Neal's genitals so that they hung down out of harm's way.
Neal was used to this type of treatment at home, but not here. He was so busy wondering if everyone knew why Peter had pulled him back here that he wasn't prepared for the first slap to his ass. It was ridiculously loud, echoing off the bare office walls, and Neal was sure it could be heard in the bullpen. He tried to get up, but Peter's strong arm was pinning him down.
Peter commenced with the onslaught without delay. He worked tirelessly, bringing his palm down on every inch of Neal's burning ass. He paid special attention to Neal's thighs. That was the worst-if Peter wanted to make sure Neal couldn’t sit down comfortably for a while, he knew to give his thighs a thorough spanking.
The blood rushed to Neal's head, and he wasn't sure how much of it was from hanging upside down over Peter's lap and how much was from the indignity he was suffering.
Once he'd gotten into a rhythm, Peter began to lecture.
"I'm going to make sure you think twice before sneaking around like this. On the way home tonight, we're stopping by the store and we're going to pick up some ginger, and you're going to have it inside your bottom for a while."
Neal groaned. He hated figging.
He hung his head, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. He started to think of ways he could make Peter feel guilty. He could complain about how much it hurt to sit down, or he could pretend he was getting sick.
In the meantime, Peter showed no sign of winding down. Maybe Peter would regret this when his hand hurt afterward.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Peter abruptly stopped spanking, and Neal tried to get up, only to find himself still impeded by Peter's arm around his waist. He scrambled for a moment, but his feet gave out from under him and he collapsed against Peter.
"Yes?" Peter called out.
The door opened a crack, and Jones peeked inside. Neal hung his head and tried to ignore the fact that Jones could see his bare ass.
"Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but Bancroft is here."
"Dammit," Peter muttered. "All right. I'll be right there."
Jones shut the door, and Neal heard his footsteps retreating. But it was too late for Neal to recover his dignity.
He tried, again, to get up. But Peter planted a firm hand on his back.
"You just stay put until I let you up."
"But Bancroft-"
"Can wait a few more seconds."
He gave Neal a few more swats, but it was obviously just to prove a point. Peter never let spankings end when Neal wanted them to.
Once Peter had gotten the final say in with the palm of his hand, he let Neal up. Neal quickly pulled up his pants and underwear.
"You can sit in my office while I'm in my meeting," Peter said. "I expect you to stay there."
"What if I need to use the bathroom?"
"You can wait. I shouldn't be more than an hour."
"What if I can't wait? Should I go on the floor?"
Peter gave him a warning look. "If you think you need to go, I can take you on the way. Otherwise, if it's an emergency, you come to the conference room to ask me. You leave my office without doing so, I give you another spanking. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Neal muttered.
Neal didn't really have to go to the bathroom, and he didn't like the idea of trying to go while Peter watched. So he went straight back to Peter's office and settled into Peter's chair, sulking.
Peter's meeting ended up running closer to an hour and a half. Neal entertained himself by doodling on a piece of printer paper. At one point, Jones came in and offered him half a package of cookies. He didn't say a word about what he'd seen in the vacant office, and Neal appreciated that, even if his pride was still wounded.
When Peter returned to his office, he shooed Neal out of his chair. Neal was good for a while, but kneeling beside Peter's desk was the most boring way to spend an afternoon, and as the sting started to go out of Neal's ass, his boldness started to return.
And now he did have to pee.
"Peter? Can I go to the bathroom now?"
He hoped Peter wouldn't insist on accompanying him. Luckily, Peter was too busy working on a report.
"Fine. Just come back when you're done."
Neal scurried off to the bathroom, where he took his time washing his hands and looking at himself in the mirror. When he was done, he was in no hurry to return. Peter wouldn't know the difference if he took a few extra minutes. He didn't say Neal had to come back immediately.
On his way back from the restroom, he passed by the office vending machines. He didn't have any change on him. He wasn't allowed to carry money as a rule. But Neal had figured out a way to improvise.
He looked around first to make sure no one was around. Then, he reached behind one of the machines, where he'd hidden his tool.
It was a wire hanger that he'd stolen from a closet at home. He'd straightened out the body and bent it into a curve. If he worked it through the slot and angled it upward, he could use the hook to pull down a bag of chips.
He got down to his knees and worked the hanger inside the machine. He almost had it in position when there was movement in the reflection in the glass. He pulled the hanger out and shot up, but it was too late.
"I believe this is the first time I've witnessed a robbery taking place inside the FBI."
Neal turned around. Agent Bancroft was standing there, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Technically, I don't think this fits the definition of robbery."
Bancroft gave him a small smile. "I suppose a man with your record would know his legal definitions."
Neal was starting to feel confident that he could talk his way out of this when he saw Peter striding over, a thinly-veiled look of panic on his face.
"Neal, what's going on here?" He turned to Bancroft. "I hope he isn't disturbing you, sir."
"No, he was just demonstrating his method for getting items out of vending machines. I'm sure we can give him the benefit of the doubt that he paid and the machine ate his money."
Peter saw the tool in Neal's hand, and his eyes widened. "I should hope so. Neal knows that stealing isn't tolerated."
Peter stepped over to Neal and put an arm around his shoulders. His fingers dug into Neal's arm. With his other hand, he took the hanger from Neal.
"I'll take my slave back to my office, now. I promise Neal will stay out of trouble for the next couple hours."
"Seems like you've got your work cut out for you."
Peter led Neal back in the direction of his office, holding Neal to his side with a firm arm around his waist. Once they were out of earshot from Bancroft, he said, "What were you thinking? Please tell me this is the first time."
Neal opened his mouth to respond, but Peter stopped him.
"No, actually, don't say anything. Who am I kidding? Of course you've done it before. I don't want to hear whatever verbal gymnastics you come up with to try to deny it. But did you have to do it when Bancroft is here? He's my boss's boss, Neal."
"He didn't seem that upset."
Peter released his hold on Neal and gave him a quick swat on the ass. In the middle of the bullpen.
Several agents looked up from their desks, and Neal tried to act like nothing just happened. Peter grabbed his arm and dragged him the rest of the way to his office.
"On your knees. I'm keeping you where I can watch you."
Neal knew better than to argue.
* * *
Neal had hoped Peter would forget about his promise to stop at the grocery store for ginger, but after the run-in with Bancroft, Neal figured the chance for leniency had passed.
Sure enough, Peter insisted on stopping on the way home, and Neal hung back in the produce department while Peter picked out what looked like largest hand of ginger in the bin.
When they got home, Peter told him to strip and wait in the living room. Neal could hear Peter in the kitchen, telling Elizabeth all about Neal's misdeeds while he got the punishment ready.
"I thought it was odd that a package came for you today," Elizabeth said. There was a pause, and then she said, "Yep, the return address says Handel Leatherworks."
It was typical of Neal's luck today that the package had arrived early. He'd timed his order in hopes that it would arrived when Elizabeth was out of town. She was going away to an event planning expo in Pennsylvania tomorrow. It would have been easier to intercept the package when it was just him and Peter.
Then again, maybe it was for the best, considering. If the package hadn't come today, Peter would probably search his room to make sure he didn't have the improperly-purchased tools hidden. And there was no way Neal could intercept any packages while Peter was on high alert.
Neal realized he was probably running out of time, and that he hadn't undressed yet. He quickly started to undress, and was just peeling his underwear off when Peter came in, carrying a large finger of ginger that had been peeled and carved into a plug. He also had the kitchen timer.
"Did you have to make so big?"
"I'm going to sit on the sofa so you can lie across my lap. Let's get this done."
There was no arguing with Peter today. Peter sat on the sofa, and Neal climbed across his lap, positioning his ass over Peter's thigh. There wasn't quite enough room, so one of his legs hung off, spreading his ass and making him feel vulnerable.
But apparently, he wasn't spread enough.
"Can you open yourself up for me?" Peter asked.
It wasn't really a request. With a sigh, Neal reached back with his right hand and pulled his buttock aside, exposing himself. Peter placed a hand on Neal's lower back, and pressed the ginger against his hole. He twisted it, working it inside the tight opening. Neal wiggled.
"Stay still. It's not in yet."
"It feels like it is."
Peter pushed it in further and let Neal's hole close around the indentation he'd carved. Peter grasped the base and squeezed.
The juice started to burn almost immediately. Neal squirmed as his ass began to tingle.
There were some beeps as Peter set the timer.
"All right, Neal. Ten minutes." Peter rubbed his back with one hand, and twisted the ginger with the other, igniting more burning in Neal's ass. "I know you think I'm being too strict right now. I'm sure you think I'm just angry. But it's not just that. I'm concerned about how you've been slipping lately. I want you to feel comfortable and confident, but your problem is that you're comfortable when you're lying and stealing."
Neal buried his face in the crook of his arm. He heard Elizabeth come into the room.
"Hon, I have the other piece of ginger. I'll set it here."
The other piece? Was Peter going to replace this one when he decided it wasn't potent enough anymore?
Elizabeth took a moment to run her hand through Neal's hair. Her nails felt good against his scalp, and he was disappointed when she stepped away.
Finally, the timer beeped. Peter turned it off, and then worked the ginger out of Neal's ass, leaving him feeling empty and open.
Peter patted Neal's ass and said. "I want you to get up and sit on my lap, facing away from me. Can you try to do that?"
Neal didn't understand the request, but he obeyed. It felt strange to straddle Peter's lap while he was naked and Peter was clothed, and he had a bad feeling about it. He was sure Peter was about to do something he wouldn't like.
Elizabeth was sitting in a nearby armchair, and Neal hated that she could see him in such an undignified position.
Peter picked up the fresh piece of ginger from the side table. With his other hand, he grabbed Neal's cock, angling it upward to expose the glans.
Neal tensed as he realized what was going to happen. "No, Peter, you can't."
Peter rubbed the ginger across the sensitive head of Neal's cock and pressed it against the slit. Neal's eyes watered and he squirmed on Peter's lap.
"It's okay," Peter said. "We're almost done here."
He continued the torture for another minute, and then set the ginger aside. Neal sniffled and fought the urge to wipe his eyes.
Peter kissed his cheek. "That's it. Your punishment is over. Here, why don't you rest on the sofa for a minute?"
He helped Neal lie down on the sofa with his head and shoulders in his lap. He ran a hand through Neal's hair.
"I've been thinking that you need a little more discipline to get you back on track, so I don't have to punish you too much. One of my books recommends trying maintenance spankings."
"Maintenance spankings?" Neal asked, horrified.
"It's not so bad. It's not like getting a punishment spanking. How it'd work is that we'd talk about your behavior every week, and I'd give you a short, light spanking with my hand to remind you to behave. If you're good and don't earn any actual punishments, we'd switch to doing it every other week, and then once a month. But if you earn a punishment, you're back on the weekly schedule. I know it sounds harsh, but some slaves do really well on that system. It reminds them what happens if they misbehave."
Neal couldn't believe what he was hearing. Whoever devised such a system must have been the worst master ever.
Neal lifted his head and angled his neck so that he was looking up at Peter. "Haven't I been punished enough?"
Elizabeth spoke up. "Oh, sweetheart. Your punishment is done, but what about next time? We can't just keep escalating it to try to get through to you. Maybe regular, consistent discipline would help us avoid that."
"But I hate getting spanked. It is a punishment. Why should I bother following the rules if I'm going to get spanked anyway?"
Peter rubbed Neal's ass. "Okay. So what's your idea? This is for your benefit, so you tell me what you think would work."
"I can't promise anything. You know that."
"But I need some assurance that you can listen to me."
Neal wiggled on Peter's lap and pushed himself up. "What if I let you do whatever you want to me? You could come in my face and I wouldn't complain. Or I could give you a rimjob."
Neal didn't like rimming, but it was better than getting spanked. And Peter was a lot more agreeable when his libido was kept sated.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "We don't want you to see sex as something unpleasant you have to do."
"He has a point, El. Maybe we've been neglecting him lately. Slaves who have plenty of opportunities to serve are more grounded. I want Neal to enjoy himself, but all the experts say that it's good for slaves to submit to their owners."
"Well," Neal said, "you wouldn't want to desensitize me. I was thinking we could keep doing like we have been, but a couple days a month, I'd do whatever you want."
He hoped Peter would buy it, because it seemed like the best solution. Sucking up to Peter in the bedroom was the easiest way of making him feel like he was in control.
Peter stroked Neal's hair while he contemplated it. "Okay. I'll go take a shower, and then you can show me how well-behaved you're going to be."
* * *
Neal waited for Peter in the master bedroom, stretched out naked and alone on the bed.
He wondered how long it would take before Peter loosened his grip on the leash, so to speak. Neal was starting to wish he'd been more careful. Were a small purchase, a bit of information, and some free snacks worth all this? And despite his indignation at his treatment, he did want Peter's trust. He'd been careless, and now he was being treated more like a slave again. At least he'd saved himself from a regimen of maintenance spankings.
Peter came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Neal turned his face away and blinked away the tears that had been forming, but Peter might have seen them.
"It's all right, you know," he said gently as he sat on the bed. He stroked Neal's hip. "I'm not mad at you anymore. But I am going to have to keep a closer eye on you for a while. You know that, right?"
Neal nodded, miserable.
"It won't be so bad. And as long as you try to behave, you won't have to worry about getting spanked at the office again."
Peter stood and dropped his towel. His cock was already half-hard, probably from the promise of what he was going to be getting. He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay on his back, propped against the pillows. He bent his knees and spread them wide.
"C'mon, Neal. You know what to do."
Neal didn't particularly care for this position, because the last time he'd done this, Peter came in his hair. But he'd promised obedience, and backing out now wouldn't help matters. Sitting up, Neal crawled between Peter's spread legs and dropped to his stomach.
Neal gently lifted Peter's balls out the way and licked at Peter's perineum. He'd read that the prostate could be stimulated externally through the perineum. He didn't think his tongue was strong enough to accomplish that, but judging from Peter's sharp intake of breath, having his perineum licked felt good. Neal licked his way all the way up to the base of Peter's balls, and then tickled them a little with the tip of his tongue.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter stroking his cock. With his free hand, Peter threaded his fingers through Neal's hair and gently pushed down on his head.
Neal got the message. He worked his way back down until his tongue found Peter's tight asshole. His hole twitched at the contact, but after a few moments, Neal felt Peter's muscles relax.
"Oh yeah, that's good," Peter said softly. "It's been too long since you've done this."
Though this wasn't Neal's favorite task, there was something relaxing about it. He didn't have to use nearly as much skill as he did when sucking Peter's cock. Peter was content to jerk himself off, and all Neal had to do was swirl his tongue around in gentle whorls.
After a few minutes, his tongue began to get tired, and it was harder to move it in a steady rhythm. But he could hear Peter breathing heavily, and knew he was close to coming. He kept going.
Peter made a strangled cry, and Neal felt something wet slide down his forehead. He stopped licking and screwed his eyes shut to keep the semen from getting in them.
He heard Peter grab some tissues from the box on the nightstand.
"Hold still. Let me clean you up." He dabbed Neal's forehead and ruffled his hair a bit.
"There you go. A quick shower and you'll be as good as new."
If come got in his hair, Neal was sure it'd take ages to get it out. But he didn't complain. He knelt up and climbed out from between Peter's legs. He collapsed beside Peter on the bed.
"See?" he said. "I can be a good slave."
Peter hugged him close. "I know. I think you can be whatever you set your mind toward. And I know you can be good if you want to be."
If it meant avoiding more office spankings and more ginger torment, Neal would be a very, very good slave. At least until Peter put his guard down again.
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