Here there be whump

"Go to the corner!" Stephan to Gabriel? Gabriel maybe not taking it as a simple punishment, and thinking he's finally going to be whipped or belted?

HHNKGokgkg absolutely, Nonnie! This is the best shit. 

-

It’s been a long week, Gabriel knows that. Mistress has been working overtime, and Master is stressed and terse. Gabriel has been sticking to the shadows, trying not to get in the way… but that has proven more difficult than he’d anticipated, especially in such a large house. Mistress is short and tense when she’s home, and Master has been reclusive and distant.

Master is working on a big project; Gabriel didn’t understand the explanation when it was offered, but it involves a lot of papers scattered across the man’s desk, and not one but two open laptops. It’s all gibberish to Gabriel. 

It’s a rare occasion when they will let him clean. But this time, when Gabriel had crept up to Master’s knee while he drank his morning coffee and timidly asked if he could tidy up, Stefan had agreed. It had been absent-minded and distracted, but still punctuated with a pat to his hair, so Gabriel counted it as a win. 

Which is to say that two hours later, after sweeping every floor in the house that isn’t carpet, scrubbing the entryway floor, and cleaning all the windows and mirrors, Gabriel finds himself hovering outside of his Master’s office. 

It’s a mess inside. Gabriel knows it’s a mess inside. 

He also knows he’s not supposed to go in there without supervision. 

He dallies for a solid three minutes, but the door is already open a crack, and Gabriel can see a few loose papers on the floor. It wouldn’t hurt anything to slip inside and put them back on the desk, maybe straighten out the other piles. It’s not like Gabriel can read whatever’s on the papers, and, he reasons, that probably makes it better - that way if there’s anything sensitive written there, he won’t be peeking. 

The papers on the floor are like an itch, and the urge to pick them up is a compulsion. 

He’s being bad, Gabriel thinks as he nudges the door open and creeps inside. He’s being very bad. The papers get picked up and straightened, then set on the nearest clear patch of desk. Then Gabriel sees a pen leaking ink, and a book set haphazardly on the desk chair, and a half-empty cup of cold tea by the laptop. It won’t take long, he thinks; just a minute or so of tidying. 

He’s picking up the mug when he’s interrupted. 

“What are you doing?” Master’s voice is so sudden, and so displeased, that Gabriel screeches and drops the cold tea. 

He can only watch in horror as the mug falls, and hits the edge of the desk. The dark liquid swooshes up and out in an arc, and then dramatically splatters all over the exposed papers. 

There’s silence for a split second as Gabriel stares at the mess. Master is staring at it too, Gabriel can see it from the corner of his eye, just like he can see the way the man’s expression darkens. 

Gabriel whimpers and shrinks away as Master takes a proper step into the study. All the frustration of the past week seems to be catching up with him in that moment, and Gabriel’s knees weaken at the look in his eye. 

“What,” Master questions levelly, “do you think you’re doing in here?” 

Gabriel makes a pitiful whining sound in response. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m s-sorry, Master, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-” 

He knows how long his Master has been up here working. And all of that work is currently soaking up tea stains. 

Master takes another step forward, and Gabriel drops to his knees like a stone. 

“I’m sorry, please,” he begs. “I shouldn’t, shouldn’t have c-come in here, I’m sorry-”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel opens his mouth to keep apologizing, and Master holds up a hand to silence him. “Enough. I can’t-” The man breaks off, and Gabriel sees him track the damage to the papers, sees the lines beneath his eyes and the exhaustion in his features. Stefan sighs. “You, go to the corner. Downstairs, living room. Go.” 

Gabriel scrambles to his feet with another little whimper and scurries to obey. He knows what the corner means. The corner means he was bad, and he has to be taught better. 

His skin already aches in anticipation of the coming punishment. 

He doesn’t make any detours; he goes straight to the living room and crumples to his knees again, this time facing into the corner. He pulls his shirt off with shaking hands and folds it. The bruises from his last Master’s final beating are only just starting to fade, but they will be overlain with new ones, soon. 

Gabriel sniffles and wraps his arms around his front. If Master is feeling generous, maybe he’ll get the belt instead of the whip. 

Maybe if he takes it quietly, Master will hold him after. 

He waits in silence, twisting his fingers in his lap, until Gabriel forces them to be still. The waiting is the worst part. He’s exposed to the cold air of the room, and his back is a fair target. The time is intentional, he thinks - Master wants him to wait, to think about his punishment, and what he’s done wrong. Gabriel already knows he’s done wrong, but he tries to think about how he can show he’s sorry, because he is. 

When Master comes down the stairs fifteen minutes later, Gabriel is ready. 

The footsteps stop in the entryway, like his Master is surveying his kneeling pet, and Gabriel sniffs and opens his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” he whimpers. He’s already bare, nose in the corner, arms tucked out of the way. He’s practically cowering. “P-please, teach me to be b-better? I was, I was bad, Master, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry. I’ll be g-good, Master, please make me good-”

“What in the-” Master’s voice is further away than Gabriel thought, but he still flinches and whines as he hears the man stride closer. This is it; any second there will be the rattling of a buckle being undone, and the swift shhk sound of leather being pulled out of belt loops. 

But instead of the white-hot lash of pain, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel cries out pitifully, twisting his fingers in the fabric of his pants. He can’t reach up or pull away. He has to be still, he has to take his punishment. 

But the hand doesn’t grip or yank or pull, and Gabriel feels his Master crouch behind him. “Turn around for me, bud.” 

The words make tears spring to Gabriel’s eyes; the belt is always more merciful on his back, where there’s nothing soft or vulnerable to hit… but he turns anyway, awkwardly twisting around on his knees. 

“Look at me? Please?” 

Gabriel drags his eyes up, and the sadness in Master’s eyes knocks the breath out of him. It’s unmistakable, even though it’s not right. The man had been angry, he was angry - so where was his righteous retribution? 

Stefan sighs, dragging a hand over his face, before looking back at the frightened young man in front of him. He wants to ask why Gabriel had taken his shirt off, but he thinks he already knows the answer. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he says, and watches as Gabriel’s expression tilts in bewilderment. “You’re not in trouble, little one. Although we need to talk about following the rules.” 

Gabriel flinches into a nod, blue eyes tracking the motion of his Master’s hands, then to Stefan’s belt, then to the floor. 

“Please, Master, make me better,” he begs, and Stefan only shakes his head. 

“Not like this,” he answers simply, and Gabriel whimpers. 

“B-but-!”

“No,” Master says firmly, and Gabriel shuts his mouth. The shirt is picked up off the floor and shaken out. “Put your shirt back on,” Master instructs, and Gabriel obeys. 

In the end, there is no punishment dealt out, and Gabriel is left feeling bereft and wrong-footed. He’s been truly bad this time, he knows - not going into Master’s office was one of the only concrete rules be’d been given, and he’d broken it. But still there is no punishment. 

Why is there no punishment? 

Gabriel doesn’t understand, and this time when he’s put to bed, after they’ve eaten dinner and washed up, it’s not relief he feels. It’s confusion, and uncertainty, but most of all, it’s frustration. He’s been bad for what feels like the millionth time, and there’s still been no discipline. 

How is he meant to be better if they don’t teach him? 

Master pets his hair and tucks him in, and when he leaves, Gabriel cries himself to sleep.