Whipping Boy

Author's Note:

1.

This is the third chapter of a multi-chapter story and won't really make sense unless you've read the first two chapters.

2.

This chapter is mostly a BDSM scene, with a fair amount of conversation and a small amount of (male on male) sex. If that's not what you want to read, well, this site has LOTS of other stories. :-)

3.

See the Chapter 1 notes for warnings, disclaimers, definitions, and the like.

4.

This story takes place right after the fourth year of the first five-year mission, in the Original Series (NOT reboot) universe.

5.

Thanks for reading!

Whipping Boy, Chapter 3

One month later

From a distance of 20,000 kilometers, the planet of Porrima was a swirl of green and blue, seeming all ocean and forest. As the shuttlecraft descended, it became apparent that there were occasional clearings in the forests, but the land was still as thickly forested as any Kirk and Spock had ever seen. When they got close to the surface, the blur of green resolved into spiky coniferous forest: cool, peaceful, and still.

Kirk piloted the shuttlecraft

Copernicus

to the coordinates Spock had given him, setting it down in a clearing near the hut they'd rented. As they gathered their luggage from the back of the shuttle, Spock said, "Because Porrima is a meditation retreat, the dwellings are manually constructed, and every hut is unique. There was but a single hut with a stanchion supporting the ceiling in the center of the main room, which I decided would be ideal for our purposes."

Kirk stilled for a moment, not sure whether to be amused or appalled. He decided to go for amused. He resumed collecting his half of the luggage. "Spock, are you telling me that you've rented the one cabin on all of Porrima that comes complete with its own whipping post?"

Spock gave Kirk his Vulcanly amused look. "Affirmative. It is unnecessary to secure me to it, but its physical support may prove beneficial."

"Some dinner would be beneficial right now, so let's get inside. You said you'd ordered supplies?"

"Some of those who visit this world for quiet contemplation prefer to spend as little time as possible on mundane tasks, so our hut is equipped with a food synthesizer, in spite of the fact that it is otherwise somewhat primitive. Others, however, believe that performing mundane tasks has a grounding effect, so there are also modest kitchen facilities. We can cook or employ the synthesizer, as you wish."

"A whipping post AND a food synthesizer. Y'know, there are days when I think you're so prepared you could whip an extra shuttlecraft out of your back pocket."

That earned him an eyebrow. "Jim, conservation of mass would dictate..."

"Don't even start; I

know

you know I'm joking. Come on, I want some food."

The interior of the hut was constructed entirely of local wood and consisted of three rooms: a large main room and a small bedroom and bathroom. The walls were planed but not sanded or finished; the floor, however, was both sanded and varnished. As Spock had said, a round pole in the center of the main room helped to hold up the roof; the pole had clearly once been a tree, with the branches removed, the bark peeled off and the surface slightly smoothed.

The main room had a kitchen alcove and small table with chairs on the wall to the left of the front door, a fireplace and seating area on the wall opposite the door, and doors to the bedroom and bathroom on the wall to the right of the front door. Two long, rustic benches on either side of the front door completed the main room's furnishings. One of the benches held candles, mats, and other mediation aids; the other was empty.

After dinner, Kirk unpacked his duffel bag while Spock cleaned up after the meal. Kirk spread the floggers and cane that Spock had given him on the empty bench and turned to Spock. "I've been practicing, and my aim is pretty good now. I won't ... hit anything but what I'm aiming at."

Spock inclined his head. "Of course. I have an additional implement for you, and you may wish to spend some time becoming accustomed to it."

"Another toy? But we haven't been to any place that has even a basic market in the past month."

"This implement is of my own construction."

"You MADE it?"

"Affirmative. The

Enterprise's

scientific experiments frequently require the construction of novel equipment, so our laboratories contain a variety of tools and raw materials, specifically to facilitate the assembly of such equipment." Spock looked at him. "You know this."

Kirk ran a hand through his hair, then grinned. "I knew you could make a mnemonic memory circuit out of stone knives and bear skins, so I guess I should have known that you could make this, but it's nothing like what you usually make. I'm impressed, Spock."

Spock looked pleased, in his low-key way. "The implements sold for recreational practitioners of BDSM are intended to minimize physical damage, but as we discussed previously, you require a certain amount of damage for optimal satisfaction. I judged that a somewhat more injurious implement would be desirable, and as one was not commercially available, I constructed it."

Kirk cocked his head. "If we're not 'recreational' practitioners, what are we, then?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and gazed steadily at his captain. "I believe our proposed course of action could be termed 'therapeutic.'"

Kirk laughed. "'Therapeutic.' I guess you're right. Okay, let's see it. What's the new one like?"

Spock walked over to his duffel bag and took something out of it, then returned to Jim. "I used the construction of the other floggers as a pattern, so this is similar in overall design but differs in detail."

Kirk looked at the flogger. "It's black."

"The laboratory's rubber supplies are of a purely utilitarian hue."

Kirk looked more closely. "And it has big knots on the end of every tress."

"Indeed."

Kirk swallowed. "Won't that ... really tear up your skin?"

"That is their intended purpose, yes."

"Spock, this isn't a toy, it's a

weapon

."

"It is an implement that is suited to our purpose," Spock said calmly.

"Because you saw — how did you put it? — 'rivulets of green blood' in my mind."

Dark eyes stared into hazel ones as Spock spoke fiercely. "It is

your

mind; examine it!" Long, slender fingers seized a stocky golden wrist and squeezed hard. "You have no more time for avoidance; we are on Porrima now. Will you examine your own mind, or must I use a meld to force you to see what is there?"

Kirk took a deep breath, tempted to ratchet up his intensity to meet the other man's, then purposely relaxed, intentionally trying for lightness. "I think maybe I'm seeing a side of you that only Nyota's seen before."

Spock dropped both Kirk's wrist and his own eyes and took a step backwards. He visibly schooled his face to blankness, then looked at Kirk. "I ... regret my intensity. It is not my place to conduct myself in such a fashion."

Kirk opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. "Wait a minute! You

never

lose control. And you always plan six steps ahead." He looked at Spock and considered the slight stageiness of what his lover had just done, then pointed at him. "You're trying to rile me up, to push me until I push back, to give me an excuse."

Spock's lips twitched. "You know me too well."

Kirk laughed and pulled him into a hug. "You don't have to do that, Spock. I'm on board with the program. I'm going to beat the shit out of you, but not until tomorrow. Tonight we'll rest up from the trip, I'll practice with the new toy, and we'll make love and act like the lovers we are. Okay?"

Spock nodded. "A worthy plan."

*******************************

The next morning, Kirk opened his eyes to see Spock clad in a black meditation robe, sitting up in bed beside him, reading a technical journal. Jim smiled sleepily at his lover and asked "Sleep well?"

"Quite well, thank you, Jim. And you?"

Kirk yawned. "Better than usual. Something about knowing there's no chance of a red alert seems to agree with me. Have you had breakfast?"

Spock shook his head. "I will not breakfast until you have finished beating me. Intense pain can lead to nausea, as can blood loss, so it would be unwise to eat until afterward."

"Y'know, I'm not sure if it's disconcerting or reassuring that you can be so matter-of-fact about all of this."

Spock looked at him consideringly. "It is reassuring. You desire only pain, not fear, and if I responded to the situation as a human might, you would be far more disconcerted than you are now."

Kirk sighed, then chuckled. "Right again, Spock. Kiss me?"

Spock leaned over and kissed him, gradually sliding down to a more comfortable position. Eventually Kirk broke away from the kiss. "I could kiss you all day, but I guess we have things to do."

"Indeed. And although I will breakfast later, you need not wait to join me."

"No." Kirk flashed him a mischievous grin. "After all, I need to keep my strength up."

Spock was relieved that Kirk seemed to have made enough peace with the situation to joke about it. Truly, his beloved was a brave man.

They both got out of bed, and Kirk pulled on the sweatpants he usually used for working out, while Spock made the bed. They moved from the bedroom into the main room, and Kirk scrambled himself some real eggs in the kitchen alcove while Spock read his technical journal at the table.

When Jim sat down to eat his breakfast, Spock laid the journal aside and stood up. "I will need to meditate for approximately thirty minutes, in order to ... loosen the controls that ... normally keep me from crying out."

Kirk put down his fork and looked at his lover. "Your voice wasn't rock steady that time. You talked about blood loss the way most people talk about the weather, but this ... loosening your controls scares you, doesn't it?"

Spock stood stiffly, looking slightly to one side. "It is a difficult thing for any Vulcan."

"And you've had to prove, your whole life, that you

are

Vulcan, haven't you? I remember the scorn in T'Pau's voice when she asked you if you were human; she might as well have asked if you were stinking garbage."

Spock looked at Jim, his face still mostly impassive but sadness visible in his eyes. "Yes. You think suffering pain is my gift to you, but this ... this loosening of my controls is the real gift. No amount of pain you could inflict would be as difficult to bear."

Kirk opened his mouth to speak and Spock shook his head. "Please. Do not speak. I must restore my equilibrium." Kirk nodded and Spock turned away. He walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, and Kirk raised a forkful of egg to his mouth and chewed, thinking hard.

Half an hour later, Jim had just finished cleaning up after his breakfast when Spock opened the door of the bedroom and walked into the main room. Kirk was happy to see that his lover seemed calm and serene again; it was clear that the meditation had done more than just loosen Spock's control over his ability to feel pain.

Spock came to stand in front of Jim. "Captain," he said.

Kirk wondered at first why Spock was using his title instead of his name, then realized that Spock needed to be at his most submissive in order to take a serious beating at Kirk's hands, and using the title was a part of that mindset. Kirk didn't have much experience with playing at domination, but he had a lot of experience with actually being in charge, so he deliberately put on his most captainly manner and said, "I think we're both ready, so let's get started. Take off your meditation robe and put it on the bench with the candles. Stand facing the pole and put your arms around it. Don't let go of the pole until I say you can."

Kirk saw a minute easing of Spock's stiffness and realized that his lover was relieved that he had understood things well enough to give Spock orders. "Acknowledged," Spock said.

Spock removed his robe, folded it, and placed it on the bench, then walked gracefully to the pole in the center of the room. Facing it, he moved close enough to lean his body against it, though still with most of his weight on his feet. He wrapped his arms around the pole and rested his head against it.

Kirk stood directly behind Spock and just looked at his lover for a moment. Only Spock could stand naked in a rude hut, leaning against a rough tree, and look as serene and dignified as the highest ambassador in the fanciest and most expensive clothes. This person was

his

submissive? This person deferred to

him

? In what universe did this make sense? And yet ... Spock said it made him happy. He actually used the word "joy." Jim shook his head. The universe was a whimsical place.

Kirk pulled himself back from his ruminations and began to run his hands over his lover, caressing him lightly. Spock turned his head to the side, enough so that he could see Jim, and quirked an eyebrow.

Kirk understood the implied question. "Don't worry, I'll beat you soon enough. But even after a year of being lovers, I can never see you naked without wanting to put my hands on you. I don't know if it's because I love you that much or if it's because you're just

that

beautiful, but it's like you're a magnet, and I'm pulled toward you without even thinking about it."

"Your form produces a similar reaction in me."

Kirk smiled as he continued to run his hands over Spock. "But there's something else, too. You've never stopped me from doing anything I wanted in bed, but I've always had a line I wouldn't cross with you. And now that line is gone, and I find that my hands want to reclaim you — possess you, even — and I need to touch you to say ..." Kirk dropped the playful tone he'd been using, as his voice suddenly became deeper and more intense, almost a growl, "This is mine, and I can do whatever I want to it."

Spock shuddered, and Kirk felt a thrill go through him at this reaction. Maybe Spock didn't like pain, but he liked something that Kirk had just said, something about being possessed or being at Kirk's mercy, and Jim felt his anxiety ease. Spock would get something out of this. Being at Kirk's mercy would satisfy something in him, and Kirk hadn't realized just how important that was to him until he had it. He blew out a breath, then spoke directly into a pointed ear. "I've always been able to do whatever I wanted to you, haven't I, and I just didn't realize it before? But I realize it now, Spock, and you're in trouble now."

Spock's eyes met his, and he'd never seen those eyes look so dark. Spock looked at him as if he were the source of light and air, and Jim swallowed as he realized that Spock wasn't going to joke back, that Spock was allowing himself to go into a more deeply submissive state than ever before. Kirk decided not to try to lighten the moment; if Spock needed to feel deeply submissive in order to suffer at Jim's hands, then he should do what he could to encourage it.

Kirk ran his hands over Spock's body again, stroking more firmly this time, grabbing handfuls of flesh in the few places where Spock's sparse flesh was grabbable and squeezing it firmly. He followed up by raking his nails down Spock from the back of his neck to the back of his thigh, growling "Mine!" into Spock's ear and delighting in the shudder Spock gave him.

He returned his hands to the top of Spock's back, and this time he dug his nails in as hard as he could, raking them down Spock's back, ass, and thighs while the fierce, feral feeling of his own sadism welled up inside him. Green trails marked where he'd scratched his lover, and the sight made him long for more.

Kirk took the dark blue, flat-tailed flogger from the bench, then turned back to his lover. He raised the flogger and brought it down smartly on Spock's back, and Spock flinched at the blow on his scratched skin but did not cry out. Kirk continued beating him slowly, watching Spock's reaction after every strike. After twenty blows, Kirk said, "I thought you were planning to scream for me."

Spock turned his head and looked at Jim over his shoulder. "I will scream when you make me scream, but I will not do so lightly; you will have to earn it."

"Damn you!" Jim said. "You're still managing me. Let go, already. I'll manage the damned beating! Just feel."

Dark eyes gazed at him calmly. "It was not defiance when I stated that you would have to work for my screams; I was merely reporting a fact. Such is my nature; do what you must to get what you need."

"Turn your head back to the pole," Jim ordered. "I don't think a stray tress will go up that far, but I don't want to bet your eyes on my aim if I screw up."

Spock realigned his head and rested his forehead against the pole. Jim returned the blue flogger to the bench and picked up the red braided flogger. He brought it down sharply on Spock's back and was rewarded with an audible hiss. He spread the blows across the top of Spock's back, each one harder than the last, and the audible hissing after every blow intensified.

Jim raised the flogger over his head and brought it down with all his strength, and Spock gave a strangled grunt. Kirk beat his lover slowly but very hard, over and over again, watching as bruises bloomed on the pale back, listening as the grunts got louder and more vocal. The flogger felt good in his hand, and Spock's grunts made him want more.

He'd always felt terrible, even been frantic, when Spock was injured on a mission, but looking at the bruises he'd put on his lover's body made him hard. God help him, but it did. He realized that he wasn't just enjoying causing Spock pain — though he was — he was also enjoying the fact that Spock was so much his that he could do this to him, that Spock would do anything he wanted, take anything he chose to dish out. Spock had told Jim that he preferred Spock in a deferential role, and he'd brushed the idea aside, but he couldn't deny it now; he loved it that Spock was his, not just his lover but his creature, his submissive, almost his possession. The bruises weren't just marks of pain; they were marks of ownership, and the sight of them on his lover's body was unexpectedly satisfying.

Kirk paused and let Spock rest for a moment, looking at the bruises and realizing that Spock was right, as always, and he wanted more. He returned the red braided flogger to the bench and picked up the black, knotted flogger that Spock had made. He'd practiced with it last night, and Spock had done an excellent job of making it as much like the others as possible, so that his practice with them would enable him to use this one with a similar level of skill.

Kirk swung the knotted flogger at his lover's scratched and bruised back, hitting only moderately hard until he saw what the flogger would do when it met flesh. The knots sank in slightly when they met Spock's flesh, peppering his back with a dozen small, deep bruises. Spock moaned. Kirk brought the flogger down again, just slightly harder, and was rewarded with more bruises and a louder moan. He fought himself to continue escalating slowly and gradually, seeing what the effects would be before increasing the force, even as part of him demanded that he beat Spock as hard as he could and watch the blood run.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, and Spock, with his preternatural attunment to him, clearly knew what Kirk was struggling with, because he murmured hoarsely, "I'm yours. Take what you wish."

Hearing Spock's voice had the opposite effect to what he'd intended, grounding Kirk in his love for Spock and making it easier to rein in his sadism and let it out in controlled, gradual increments. Kirk raised the black flogger again and brought it down on Spock's back only slightly harder than before, as Spock moaned with more voice. Kirk continued beating his lover, each blow harder than the last, each moan louder than the last, as the beloved back before him became ever more thoroughly bruised.