Second Month
Title: Second Month
Author: kaylynnkie
Summary: Sequel to The CW Center by jaenivitechia
Warnings: whipping, domination, strapping, humiliation, swearing, non-con
Notes: While this is a continuation of Afternoon Delight, it can be read as a stand alone.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Paring: Jared/Jensen
Rating:R
Word Count: 5,176
A big thank you to Jae and everyone who read Afternoon Delight! Reviews are love!
The Center was no less intimidating than it had been the first time around. There were still people all around him fidgeting, crying, looking forlorn and frightened, and there were the few who looked at ease. He wondered about them. Did the volunteer to be here?
He noticed a couple in the corner. The wife had been a patron of his. Her husband was crying into her shoulder. He looked away and hid his face, trying to focus only on the tag he clenched in his fist with the number on it. He was fifteen minutes early today. She still saw him.
She got up quietly and stood in front of him. If she had lashed out at him, struck him in some way, that would have been better than what she did.
Instead, she fell to her knees and placed her hands gently on both of his knees. She was a beautiful woman, and there was no reason she should be on the floor. Her clothing was expensive, a higher class than he had ever thought to look upon, her hair was clean and styled drawn elegantly away from her face in an exquisite bun, and the jewelry she wore was too shiny and sparkling to be anything less than crystal or diamonds.
“I never hurt you. Never.” There were tears in her words, and she was making an odd choking sound. He tried to pull away from her. “Did you tell them where he was? What he did? Please, Jensen. It wasn't you. Was it you?” Her voice was getting louder, hysterical.
“Sam, sit down,” he said gently. “Your husband needs you now. Be with him.”
“You're selfish,” she said. Petulant and angry. He didn't think he deserved anything less than her scorn. “We trusted you to keep us safe.”
Jensen frowned unsure of what to tell her. “I didn't mean for anyone else to be hurt.” He lowered his eyes. “I just...I had to. I'm sorry you two...” He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry you ended up here.”
To his shame, she stood slowly, then lowered herself down to kiss his cheek. “I know you are. That's why we followed you. Even when you're in pain, you care about others, too.” She gripped his shoulder, the returned to her husband. Jensen watched as she drew him close and whispered soothingly in his ear.
They were probably giving him the physical portion of the punishment and her the emotional agony. It was a common practice as The Center to split correction in the case of spouses. One of them almost always had to watch the other suffer. Jensen shuddered at what they must be going through. Jeff, Sam's husband, was the strongest person he knew. Seeing him here cowering and crying made Jensen feel pathetic. He felt responsible for breaking the spirit of a wonderful man.
They called his number, and he stood up obediently. He forced his mind to go blank.
~
This time, the coldness of the locker room and the adjoining waiting area were familiar even if it did seem a little colder, a little more intimidating and a lot more threatening than it did before. He was all alone, probably the last appointment for the day, so he took a little more time examining the wall of tools on the far end of the waiting area with a morbid sort of fascination. They were all locked in a plexiglass box to serve the sole purpose of instilling fear in the visitors. He recognized a flogger and a whip, but everything else seemed to just look scary.
There was a large metal cage that seemed as though it would fit over the head, and Jensen shuddered at the prospect. That was probably for those who committed speech violations.
A familiar voice cut through his thoughts. “67 please.” Jared.
~
Working cases usually meant that everyone passed in a blur. Jared tried to be fair with all of them, they did deserve his undivided attention after all, but sometimes it was all he could do not to rush off at the end of the day to his apartment, the safety of solitude and the unlikelihood that the old lady with eight cats was going to commit any heinous acts he would be forced to report. When Jensen Ackles came up on the docket, he felt an uncomfortable tension in his belly. He didn't have an actual problem to report. Jensen hadn't forced him to go to his crisp little apartment, and it wasn't his fault that Jared had lost his temper and snapped. He was another case that needed reformation. Nothing more.
Still, it made something twitch in a very wrong way when he saw Jensen naked in the cold plastic chair obediently rise and follow him into the private correction area. Room 6.
Like before he secured Jensen with the manacles from the ceiling and secured his ankles with a spreader. This time, Jensen seemed more resigned and that fact made Jared worry. He already had strong suspicions about Jensen's sexual preferences, and his behavior towards the cuffs and manacles weren't doing anything to assuage his new found worries. He was taking everything in stride. A young man with Jensen's disposition needed firmness in the shape of a lover not of a caseworker.
He set the camera to record and went to his table. So far, neither of them had made a move to break the silence between them. Jared made sure the bonds were secure, his palms rubbing over a fine scar on Jensen's left hand. He touched it curiously, but Jensen didn't seem to notice. If anyone was willing to bet against him, he would wager that Jensen was retreating into sub space.
He returned to Jensen with a strap held loosely against his side and faced the camera. “Date; February 24, 2010; time; 5:13PM; caseworker; Jared.” He stopped and touched the back of Jensen's neck. “I'll begin when you're ready, 67.”
Jensen swallowed loudly and wriggled in his bonds. “I committed a Class D violation and a Class F violation. I copied and distributed restricted materials. And I present myself for reformation, Sir.” Verbatim from the pamphlet.
He cleared his throat, waiting. Softly, he asked, “Is that all, 67?”
“Sir,” his voice was empty. Absolutely nothing. “The nature of my crime requires that I need even more correction than I received from my earlier appointment. Please, strap me, whip me, and flog me.”
Jared's lips parted slightly and he only just stopped himself from gasping. He remembered there being three options on the pamphlet, but he thought that flogging had been removed for Class D and F violations. It was a typical punishment practice. Choose your own switch. One he didn't approve of at all, but that was the law. So, be it.
“Are you certain about your selection, 67?”
Jensen cleared his throat. “I had the choice between a belt, a flogger or a paddle. A flogger is less...upsetting for me.”
“Upsetting?”
Jared watched his toes flex uneasily. “I have...negative associations with belts and paddles.”
Shit.
Jared tightened his fist around the strap, then forced himself to relax. “Very well. Case 67, you have asked for reformation, and the State shall provide it.”
~
He didn't like the flogger, and as he returned to the bench to set it out, so he could reach it more easily. As he did so, he realized he was nervous. It had been a long time since he had been nervous about doling out correction. He almost laughed. The flogger was a thick roped handle with numerous loose strips of leather hanging from it. It tickled when it trailed over the skin. His 'private' cases giggled when he teased it over their flesh. Jensen, he doubted, would find it at all pleasurable.
But, that was probably why he was here on a court mandate.
Jensen tensed when Jared touched his shoulder, but he still brought his hand up to the back of Jensen's neck and squeezed gently. It was a reassuring gesture, one that he was particularly found of. He found that if the cases felt that there was another person on the other side of the strap, then they were more likely to be honest about what they were experiencing. If the Board liked what they saw on the tape, then there was always the chance of a sentence reduction.
“You will be strapped first. Ask me for it.”
Jensen's voice was dull and flat. “Please strap me, Sir.”
The strap was heavy in his hand and as he rained down the blows on Jensen's bare ass for the first half of the strapping, his wrist started cramping. He was careful to carefully go over the exposed flesh in neat bands, overlapping previous welts and bruises. Jensen was mostly healed from last month's appointment. Only a handful of yellow bruises remained. There would be new ones after today, and Jensen would need even more careful bandaging than last time. Still, the workers had learned that there was a price to pay for breaking the law and that a year of correction was necessary for some citizens who were unable or unwilling to appreciate what they had. What Jensen had done broke the law, and that was all there was to it. There were rules for behavioral infractions for a reason. That literature had been banned for a reason. A good reason because the State had decided that the citizenry was safer without it.
Jared watched in fascination as Jensen arched against the strap and cried out. “Fuck.”
His legs trembled as he fought against the spreader and the rope went taunt. 40 lashes. Only 10 more, then he could rest and the whipping could begin.
Jared rolled his right shoulder, preparing for a fast delivery of the last few strokes. “There are 10 more lashings from the strap. If you need to, count them. They'll be quick, so mind yourself.”
They were brutal and Jensen's speech had degenerated into one continuous scream. It broke when the strap stopped slicing through the air. Jensen went limp against his bonds. Jared ran his hand up from the knob of his neck to thread through his hair.
“Please, tell the camera how you're feeling.”
There were tears streaking down the other man's face. “It hurts.”
“Are you aware that there are over 15 other cases currently enrolled in the Center in direct connection with the materials you distributed?” He paused for effect. “There are 12 pending trials and 3 hearings that have been held in addition to the first 16. Those 3 cases are waiting on verdicts. How do you feel about that?”
“I'm sorry. They don't-”
Had to be careful there. “67?”
“It was my fault,” he said, hanging his head in shame.
“Are you ready for the whipping?” He was really asking this time. It worried him that Jensen wasn't being as vocal this time. Internalizing the pain could indicate more severe psychological damage. The medical staff screened everyone, but Jensen was smart enough to get by them if he really wanted to.
He swallowed. “Yes, Sir. Please, I need to be whipped.”
“Very well.”
He was careful to make neat rows of lines extending from the top of Jensen's ass down to the tender flesh of his lower thighs. The rope was trembling with the force of Jensen's soft sobs and whimpers.
“I'm so-uhh! So sorry! I-Oh God!” His entire back arched as he raised up to meet Jared's cruel blows. “It burns,” he whispered. “Like fire.”
“Only 5 more,” he soothed. “”We're more than half way done.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
The final blows were quick lower back, top of his ass, middle, lowest point, then the top of his thighs. He cracked the whip through the air when he was done. Jensen sighed in relief and sagged in his bonds.
The flogger was next, and he could tell that Jensen was worried. He kept trying to crane his neck around to see what he was being struck with next.
“Eyes in front of you,” he murmured quietly.
He jerked his head so fast that Jared was sure he had whiplash. “There will only be 15 strokes with the flogger since you were a good citizen to choose it in accordance with the severity of your punishment. Your classes must be having a positive effect on your behavior.” Jensen visibly relaxed.
Not many caseworkers had the authority to give a slight reprieve during an appointment, and few rarely did, but the flogger was something he didn't approve of on principle, and he wanted to get his hands on Jensen's psych evaluation as soon as he could.
Each blow made Jensen shriek. The sounds cut through Jared like glass. This was awful.
He paused and was surprised when Jensen spoke. “10?”
“Yes, 67. That was 10 strokes.” He touched the middle of Jensen's upper back. “Is there something that you would like to say?”
“I don't know...I-I don't think so, Sir.” His voice was thick with tears.
He nodded. “Very well. We'll resume.” He cracked his neck and loosened his arm by rolling his shoulder again. “These next 5 strikes will conclude our session today.”
The last 5 blows were applied carefully to his thighs. Jared wasn't about to put his own job on the line by sparing a little of the rod. Although, Jensen's behavior with the flogger was very different from when he used his other tools.
“It's all over,” he promised.
Slightly worried, he relaxed his arm against his side. Jensen hadn't made a single sound.
“67, please address the camera and report how you're feeling right now.”
Jensen's head was down, his eyes closed and his shoulders rising and falling steadily. He didn't say a word.
Jared knelt down on one knee. “67, address the camera.” He kept the flogger close to the ground and rested his other hand on the dip between Jensen's shoulder blades. “67?”
“J-J-Ja-” he was gasping and stuttering. “Please...Jared...” his whisper was pathetic.
Jared reached out and grasped the rope. “67, using my name is prohibited.”
His eyes were glassy as he turned to Jared. “You'll let them go?” In the cuffs, his hands twitched helplessly and his waist and thigh were wriggling against the tension of the spreader and manacles.
“67?” He released the locks of the spreader and Jensen's full weight collapsed onto his wrists.
His voice was gradually becoming higher and louder. “They're just kids!” His eyes were wide and unfocused. “You can't! They're just-No! No! No!” He shrieked, kicking at Jared and pulling his wrists down towards his chest.
He whispered “Jesus.” Then, “Jensen, I'm unlocking your cuffs. I'll catch you, so don't worry. But, I'm cutting you down.” For good measure he added, “Can you hear me?”
When Jensen only looked at him blankly, Jared used his pocket knife to cut the rope down. He didn't have time for protocol right now. There was a spare key to the handcuffs in his back pocket anyway. He gathered Jensen close to his chest. The other man was now focused on the door, looking at it fretfully and turned to bury his face into Jared's chest.
“You smell good today, Steve,” he said tugging at Jared's sleeve. “You'll help them. Of course. You always do.”
He tried to force Jensen to look at him, but the other man resolutely buried himself into Jared's heat.
“You'll keep them safe. All of them.”
Jared sighed. “I need a medic!” he bellowed.
Not less than three minutes later, a woman and a man, both dressed in white entered the room with a gurney and took Jensen into the nearest treatment ward, the wheels squeaking urgently.
~
There was a woman at the front desk when Jared walked out to submit his files. “I don't care what they said. I am his proxy! I should be able to see him.”
The receptionist regarded her blandly. “Ma'am, I am afraid that he is unable to receive visitors at this time.”
“I'm not here as a goddamn visitor! I'm here as medical advisement! I can contact a member of the medical review board to remind you and everyone else at the Center just what every inmate is entitled to...even if they are under a court order for reformation,” she threatened.
Jared cleared his throat and set down the file, so he could extend his hand. “Are you Ms. Harris?”
“Jared-”
He smiled at the receptionist. “It's alright, Laura. I'll take here there myself. She's right about Mr. Ackles being allowed a proxy adviser. It would be very crass of us to overstep ourselves and try to second guess the mandates of the State.”
She nodded stiffly. “Yes, Sir. I'll let them know upstairs.” Reluctantly, she offered the other woman a guest pass. It was silver with a bar code. “This will get you inside. Have a pleasant day.”
The new woman grasped his hand. “Thank you. I'm Danni.”
“Pleased to meet you. I'll take you upstairs to see Jensen.”
She raised an eyebrow, but she didn't say anything more.
They walked together in an awkward silence until Jared cleared his throat. “He collapsed when he was with me. I believe he suffered from a psychological break.”
The look she gave him was carefully blank. “He suffers,” she said simply.
He wanted to ask more, he truly did, but the infirmary was only on the second floor, and Danni didn't seem to be forthcoming with any details. He knocked on the door before opening it and ushering her inside. There were two nurses and a doctor huddled together, whispering urgently. Jensen was asleep.
Danni rushed over to the bed and sat down on the edge, clasping Jensen's hand tightly. Her lips were white and she closed her eyes in relief. “Oh, Jen.” She turned to the doctors, “What now?”
“I'm Dr. Inaniel.” He offered his hand, but she didn't take it. “I'd prefer it if we kept Mr. Ackles overnight for observation.”
She was shaking her head before he was even done. “No. I don't think that's a good idea. He's better off with me. At home, where he can be comfortable.”
“I assure you that he is perfectly comfortable here.”
“Before or after you had to bandage the bleeding welts on his ass?”
Doc and Jared both looked around nervously. She did have a point.
“I'll have my friend come up and help. She's a doctor at the Mercy Clinic uptown,” she said pulling out her cell phone and making a quick call that lasted all of a minute. “She's on her way.”
Jared tried to speak, “But the front desk is closed.”
She looked at him as if he were an idiot child. “She's a top level surgeon employed by the State. I assure you that she has clearance to be in any of the State run facilities. Including the Center.”
“It would be better if Jensen stayed-”
“No. It would not be better,” she snapped. “The last thing he needs is to wake up to anymore white coats and needles. No one here is going to be able to help him without scaring the crap out of him.” Her pretty features were darkened by anger. “He's going home.”
Jared admired people like Danni, and had to admit, that the idea of Jensen going home didn't really bother him like it should. Perhaps, people like Jensen did benefit from being around the loved ones.
Doc was becoming desperate. “At least let Jared accompany you.” Both Jared and Danni turned to look at him. “You'll be on the clock of course. I'll inform your supervisor. However, Jared is well acquainted with Mr. Ackles, and it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if a State employee were with you until you arrived at your residence.”
She gave a bark of laughter as another woman entered the room. “What happened to us all being State employees?”
~
The city was divided into sections. At the bottom of the hill, there were the usual homeless and vagrants, then the middle class and certified State employees, and the wealthy lived at the very top with the State executives and officials. Jared had only been to the top once back when he was still considered a part of the affluent Padalecki family. His grandmother had met him on his sixteenth birthday and smiled coldly before declaring that his sister would be a much better match for the family fortune. He still heard from her on occasion. When Danni pulled her car into a long driveway that looped around a small lush garden illuminated by lights laid into the pavement, he was taken a back to say the least.
By this time, Jensen was slightly conscious and able to assist the female doctor and Danni in extricating himself from the car. It bothered him more than it should have to see him lean so trustingly against the two women. He leaned against his own car indecisively before thinking a very clear 'fuck it' and following them inside. Neither made a move to stop him, but he could tell that he had been noticed.
He walked into an opulent kitchen area and could hear Danni talking softly to Jensen. The latter seemed agitated, nervous.
“But Danni, they're all alone. I haven't seen them in days,” he whined.
She was placating and sweet. “Come on, you just need some sleep. I'm sure they'll turn up, Sweetie. You know they always do. They're just off playing.”
He was pouting. “You're sure? They'll come home?”
“Of course they will. Now sleep.”
The next words he spoke made Jared cringe. “It hurts.”
“Oh, baby. Lay on your belly. That's it. Gwen, can you get him some-? Yeah. Thanks.” A brief pause. “Better?”
There was a soft sigh of contentment and they two women laughed.
Jared shuffled around uneasily. It all felt a little too private for his liking. He didn't like thinking that he was the one responsible for Jensen's breakdown.
“Well,” Danni drawled loudly, “since you're still here...Coffee?”
He nodded gratefully and drank deeply from the cup she gave him. The other woman gave him a once over before leaving silently.
With a wave of her hand, Danni explained, “Gwen doesn't like the Center, but she accepts it. It's not just you. It's everyone who's like you.”
“Great,” he muttered. “Is he okay?” he asked carefully.
“As good as can be expected. He had a bit of a flashback is all.” She sipped from her own cup thoughtfully. “It's never that bad usually. Or that long.”
“I didn't have any idea-”
“It's not something you bring up to the person who's about to wail on your ass for the next several hours now, is it?” she snapped then sighed. “I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault, but it doesn't make...Dammit! I'm just mad, okay? Don't take it personally.”
He grinned. “I try not to.”
They stayed like that for a long time. She eventually got out some leftover stew and made sandwiches. He learned that she was the daughter of a deceased circuit judge and had lived her whole life on the top of the city. She was a little older than he was and could remember the time back before the Transition though he was careful not to ask her about it.
“Jen, Jensen does, too. He remembers life before the barriers and all the restrictions. It's probably why he's so damn idealistic.” She chuckled. “He's better for it. I can't imagine him without hope. Well, then, he's be just like-” She broke off looking up at Jared with a slight blush in her cheeks.
“It's okay. I've been told that before.” He paused. “Danni, what happened to him? I mean, why did he...”
She sighed and set down her mug. “Jensen didn't always live inside the city. His family was part of the Resistance.”
Jared swallowed. He had heard stories about the people who had lived on the 'fringes' as they were called now. Nothing good ever happened to them. They were considered beneath citizens, so the rules of engagement that protected the inhabitants of the city didn't really apply to them. There was nothing to keep the safe from the patrol squads and the numerous soldiers and military groups in the employ of the State. He could imagine a young Jensen sitting outside of the barriers, struggling to survive while war ravaged the world.
“His parents were very...political as were his siblings. They were killed when he was seventeen.”
“Damn.”
She continued in a flat voice. “He never really cared. He was just as happy with his sketchbook as he was with anything else. I was friends with him before the barriers went up, and I hadn't seen him in five years when I found him wondering by the gates. It was after the firebombing of the old capital.”
He was sick and had infected burn wounds. I don't think he was aware of them. My mother was friends with his, so she brought him up to the hospital and had him treated. He was taken away a couple of months later as a undeclared individual. They locked him up for a year. I don't know exactly what they did to him.”
“But the kids. What did he mean by that?”
She shrugged. “I'm not sure. He won't say. There were other orphans he was friends with, but I think he's talking about his dogs.”
The Ackles family was powerful before...everything happened. Jensen had two beautiful puppies, but soldiers took them and killed them. They had been running low on supplies.”
Running low on supplies...
Jared swallowed and hung his head. There was a tight feeling in his chest. He felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt. No one deserved what had been done to Jensen, and there was a nagging suspicion at the back of his mind that this happened far too often to far too many other children.
“He doesn't talk about it,” she continued. “And he does his best to cope with living in the city, but there are times when he misses it.”
“Misses what?”
She smiled sadly. “Freedom.”
~
Jared was on official, notified probation. On the upside, they had given him a raise to shut him up about the patient violation thing. So, he actually had a week off. It was a show for the State, so they could see their beloved Center hard at work. Even disciplining its own staff!
With so much free time on his hands, he went to the Museum of History. All State sponsored and approved artwork and exhibits of course. Still, though, there were instances when things got by clearance check. Last time he had gone, there had been a silver crucifix on display and the time before that, an ornate window with a woman with wings created out of colored glass. Those had long since been taken down, probably taken to Office of Recreation and Aesthetics and destroyed.
It's fair to say that he wasn't in the least bit prepared to see Jensen Ackles there, sitting on a bench in front of a fountain with a sketchbook in his hands. Jared tried to catch his eye, but the other man was captivated by the page. He sat down next to him and waited patiently
His eyes went wide when he finally looked up and noticed Jared some fifteen minutes later.
“I didn't see you,” he said.
Jared snorted, “Obviously.”
The other man ducked his head and blushed.
“Can I see?” Jared asked softly.
Shyly, Jensen showed him the page he had been working on.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Jensen, is this...”
He tilted the page, so he could see better. There was a sketching of two hands clasped together as if in prayer around the handle of a crop. The hands were cuffed together at the wrists, and a strong looking chain linked them. Dangling from the chain was a delicate looking pendant. It was circular with the image of a beautiful woman on it.
Reverently, he pointed to the pendant. “What is this?”
Jensen shook his head. “I don't really remember. I think her name was Mary. My mama had one, and she gave me one to wear when I was younger. I...I lost it.” He smiled. “She's supposed to keep you safe.”
“That's nice,” he said returning the notebook to its rightful owner.
The smile on Jensen's face was coy. “Did you see?”
“See what?”
“The hands,” he said matter of factly. “They're yours.”
Jared felt the color rise in his cheeks. “That's...I don't know what to say.”
Jensen reached out and gripped one of Jared's hands in both of his, the sketchbook tucked under his arm. The artist rubbed his thumb over the bumps of his knuckles and over the soft skin connecting his thumb and forefinger. He seemed transfixed by the smooth expanse of muscle and skin.
“You have beautiful hands,” he said simply. “Any artist would love to have you model for them.”
He smiled crookedly. “You think?”
”Danni told me that you helped her bring me home the other night.” Jared nodded. “Thank you for that. You didn't,” he cocked his head, “get in trouble, did you?”
“A week long suspension, but it isn't all that much considering.”
“That's awful!” Jensen looked away, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Is it my fault?”
He released Jared's hand, and Jared frowned.
“Don't worry about it. It could have been a lot worse. It's like a vacation.”
Those sharp eyes caught his but looked away quickly.
He caught Jensen's chin with his hand. “Hey. Easy there. They'll forget all about it in a month or two. Shouldn't I be the one apologizing to you anyway?”
“I broke the law. I deserved to be punished.”
“But that's not how you'd like it to be is it?”
He looked at Jared coldly, staying silent. Jared sighed, trying again at some type of normalcy between them.
“I guess I'm off the hook for this one, right?” he joked, but Jensen was shaking his head.
When he spoke, his eyes were hollow. “The State never forgives, Jared. And it never forgets.”
He snatched up his sketchbook and walked outside. Jared tried to catch up to him, but he had already vanished into the crowds of people.
~
Next Part: Cutting Class Part 1