The First Penitatas
Chapter 38 – Foolishness

Today was one of the few days when Skal wasn't expected to be somewhere else. Udum's Rejuve School wasn't in session, nor was he to attend any Enforcer-related activity. This was why, when everyone else in the building was up and busy, the Kyyreni boy was curled up in a warm little ball, safe and snug in bed. The fact it was Sam's bed was all the more joyous. It wasn't for sex either; that  would have been his primary interest not too long ago, but increasingly he found it was enough to be with her, to hold his fellow Penny tight and savour the warmth of her fur against his own. The boy knew his fellow rejuve was awake by the soft sounds and subtle movements, yet she did nothing but press herself more firmly into his hugging embrace and tuck the blanket a little tighter under her chin. Bliss. Warm, cosy bliss.
The pair abandoned their laziness when the stomach rumblings began. Haal had long since awoken and departed so the pair took their time to dress and set off in search of their morning meal. They'd missed the cafeteria serving, but the processed meat sandwiches available on-demand filled their bellies nicely.
“How are we going to spend our free day?” Skal asked with a merry little grin on his muzzle. His tail flicked about in subconscious announcement of his good mood.
“We can break out a few boardgames. There's some stuff I've not played in ages.” Sam replied with a happy sheen in her eye. “At least until the Kingsball game! I want to watch that!”
“Sounds great to me!” Skal confirmed as he swallowed the last of his sandwich. He hopped from his chair and offered his elbow in a gentlemanly manner, and with a playful tone he asked, “may I walk you to the playroom?”
“You may indeed!” Sam giggled in response, clinging his arm tightly. Her artificial forearms felt warm to the touch thanks to internal heating systems – one of innumerable small touches intended to replicate real arms as accurately as possible. Many times, Skal had wondered just who exactly had ordered them created, and why they would gift them to Sam specifically. Today, however, he was entirely focused on how pleased his young girlfriend looked.
The two six year old rejuves strolled together past the common room door, which Sam glanced through at the posters hastily tacked to a cork board. The day's upcoming event was displayed front and centre, and the girl's pause to stare caused Skal's step to falter. He followed her eyeline as a sigh escaped her lips. “It would have been amazing to go see the game live.”
“Maybe we can? There's still time,” Skal offered. “Why don't I go ask my dad?”
“Do you think he'd let us?”
“Why not? We've been good, right? And he wants to do something nice for me after what happened with Hafn's bodyguard.”
A gleeful hug was hurled his way. “You're the best!” Sam declared, and Skal savoured the attention for a while before squirming free of her grip to hunt down his father. It wasn't difficult – you just had to follow the shouting. Over time, the Guildmaster's Office had moved to an ever more remote part of the building just so everyone else could get some work done, free of the ever-present mob.
“I must speak with your Guildmaster!” cried a brown-spotted Kyyreni female whose many tassels bore the symbols of the Builders. “We have had thefts and vandalism of construction sites all across the City! I demand to know what is to be done!”
A militiaman wearing colonel rank pins and a crest of an unfamiliar House argued with a weary secretary, “You people need boots on the streets, but I can't clear my men for policing actions without the Guildmaster's stamp. Go get it for me!”
“Your Enforcer stood by and did nothing while savages robbed the place!” an elderly male cried.
“I have tried speaking to your Corrector-Captain, but he simply does not listen!” a frustrated Karrian retorted to whatever excuse she'd just been given.
Skal wound past it all, and more importantly received no challenge from any Enforcer as he reached the freshly painted door and rapped upon it with his knuckles. He barely heard his father's voice answer before slipping in. The shutting door finally muted the clamouring outside. The penitatas found himself in his father's company, squatting behind a desk with a sour look on his muzzle. The King of Chance, Guildmaster of the Gamblers occupied the seat opposite. The Gambler grinned mischievously at the boy, but said nothing. “What do you want, Skal?” Kadan growled.
“Sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt.”
“Just get on with it, I'm busy,” his father barked, making the King of Chance's grin spread wider.
“I... I wanted to go to the Kingsball game with Sam. She wants to see the Browns play.”
Kadan shook his head, more in dismay than rejection. “No, Skal, I can't possibly take you anywhere today. I am up to my ears in shit to do.”
“We could take ourselves?” Skal offered.
His father's eye flicked to the King of Chance. The visitor's beaming seemed only to sour his mood. “If you can find someone to keep an eye on you then fine, you can go.”
“Thanks dad!” Skal chirruped, spinning on his heel so fast he had to fling his tail out to counterbalance. He made straight for the offices, homing in on Kas' desk where the medicalos was acting true to form; eyes fixed on the screen, one paw tapping the scroll key, the other steering a pencil into his nostril.
“Kas!” Skal called, making the medicalos jump and sending the pencil clattering away. “We need someone to come with us to the Kingsball game! Can you take us?”
There was a brief look of joy in the boy's eyes, but it quickly faded. “I... can't. Sorry, Skal, but I promised Torn I'd deal with... boring crap,” he gestured to the screen with an unhappy wave.
“Oh come on! You hate office work, and you take every chance you get to bail on it!”
“I know, but we're really short on staff today and I can't let him down. I'll come to the next one, okay?”
“But...” Skal glanced around, but he had nobody else to try his luck on. His gut knotted at the idea of letting Sam down, made worse by how unfair it was to be denied the one time he actually asked for something. With a sigh he left the room, but by the time he came to the stairs a new thought occurred; a way to get what he and Sam both deserved. He ducked into the latrines and waited there for a while, knowing a cubicle was one place he'd not be disturbed. He counted out around two minutes before strolling back to the office and confronting Kas once more. “Can I borrow your charge card?”
“Why?”
“Well I don't have one of my own.”
The boy's brow furrowed. “I thought you had to have someone take you.”
Skal shook his head. “It's fine, Sam and I can take ourselves. I wish you could come too though. It would have been fun.”
Kas considered this for a moment, but to Skal's delight he produced his wallet and offered the Guild's charge card. “Just behave with this, okay? It's in my name so I'm going to have to explain whatever you buy! Get the tickets, maybe a snack, and that's it!”
“Thanks, Kas. Don't worry, we'll behave!” Skal promised as he waved the card triumphantly on his way out of the door.

Sam had her doubts about the two of them going out unescorted, but Skal did his best to reassure her as they made their way across the City. It seemed her mood only worsened as they drew near the stadium and were confronted by the crowds of Kyyreni all competing to secure entry to the game. The game was between lesser teams and by Skal's rough guess everyone present would be let in, but Sam's anxiety was born as much from being in a large crowd as anything, as proven by how she flinched away from a passing party in the bold livery of the Doctor's Guild. Skal opened his mouth to assure her they probably weren't at the Guildmoot so had never seen her nude, but reconsidered. He settled for holding her paw instead.
The pre-game entertainment was wrapping up by the time they got to a ticket vendor. Two Enforcers in full gear were present, but neither paid the penitatas any mind. Skal glanced at them regardless before flashing his Guild charge card and loudly requesting two children's tickets. The female behind the desk took the card, studied it suspiciously, and to the horror of the pair waved down one of the Enforcers. “Excuse me, can you vouch for these two?”
The Enforcer glanced suspiciously at Skal and Sam, but his ears pricked up sharply after a few seconds. “Oh, this is the Guildmaster's lad! Are you two here on your own?”
“My father was too busy,” Skal replied. It wasn't a lie, so he felt safe in saying it.
“I bet.” He flashed a positive hand gesture to the female, who swiped the card and returned it along with their seating stubs. They were in!

Once they had settled into their mid-terrace seats, armed with citrus-tinted water bottles and trays of spicy meat dumplings, the two quickly forgot everything beyond the game. Sam especially became lost in the frantic, fanatical cheering on of her heroine below; the female known colloquially as “Numbers”, a former Enforcers Guild accountant turned sportswoman. It was a good game for her and the team; Numbers scored the first point of the match five minutes in, and the second, final point ten minutes before the end.
Sam adored every minute. Every soaring high, every heart-stopping low. The intensity of watching the game play out live, surrounded by fans whose roaring and wailing marked the shifting emotional tides of the event enhanced every second into an almost religious experience for her. Skal knew this because he felt it too, though not nearly as keenly. For him, the joy radiating off of his young love was far more enthralling than the sporting feats.
Their ears were still ringing for the roar of thousands of voices as they walked home paw in paw. Sam had a clear skip in her step, all social shyness forgotten as she enthusiastically commented on the game they'd just witnessed. She clutched the used ticket stub in her artificial paw as if it were a holy icon. The good mood lasted all the way into the Correctors building, where Skal went to return Kas' card and was met by a shaken, ashen-faced boy. The penitatas knew what was coming before Kas opened his mouth. “The Guildmaster wants you to go to him. I think he's upstairs.”

Skal's heart pounded every unwilling step of the way to the loft, his mind raced in a frantic effort to predict what would be asked of him and how he might justify his actions. He stepped through the door and climbed the final set of stairs to see his father waiting there, sat on a stool and glowering. Kadan's narrowed eyes fixed on him instantly, and in a predatory growl he commanded, “get over here.”
The boy barely suppressed a sob as he slunk forward. In his father's paws was a thin cane. On the side table by his seat was a paddle and a narrow, but thick belt of tan leather. The room's pillory was opened. He shuffled to a halt with tail tucked firmly between his trembling legs, unable to meet his father's furious glare. “I can't wait to hear what piss-poor excuse you've got for what you pulled today!” Kadan barked, his hot-blooded nature breaking through now his truant son was in paw's reach.
“I-” Skal began, but he wasn't allowed to get any further. Kadan lunged forward to snatch the boy's wrist and yank him off balance, leaving him tottering on his toe-tips as his arm was pulled tight above him.
“You stole Kas' card!” Kadan barked.
“N-no! I asked him for it and he gave it to me!”
“Under false pretences!” His father brought the cane down hard on Skal's palm, making the boy yelp. “You took something you had no right to take, so your paws will pay for that!”
The cane slapped against his palm once again, the blow making Skal yelp and squirm in his father's vice-like grip. He could tell by the burning lines crossing the soft, dark skin on his palm that the blows would leave welts, but he had no time to reflect on that before a third stroke was delivered. Tears welled up as his paw was twisted again, and this time the cane was brought across his knuckles. Lightning flared down his arm at the strike, prompting the Kyyreni boy to howl in agony. Kadan's grip loosed and Skal immediately pulled his wounded paw to his chest, cradling it and trying to massage his swelling knuckles.
“Give me your other paw,” Kadan ordered, pointing the cane at the boy's offending limb. He obeyed with a whimper that grew to a frightened yelp as the cane was brought hard upon his fresh palm four times in rapid succession, each stroke coming so quickly it bled into the previous. Perhaps to make up for his haste, Kadan gave his left paw two raps on the knuckles, leaving the Penny with both hands throbbing. He held his aching knuckles to his lips, kissing them better between gulps and sobs.
“We are far from done,” Kadan warned, pointing sharply towards the punitive pillory that served as permanent reminder of the attic's dual function. Skal made no move towards it, but nor could he offer much resistance when he was forcibly dragged over. His timid whimpers drew no sympathy as his pants were pulled down and tail secured, leaving his furred rear exposed and vulnerable. “I thought you'd learned a long time ago that running off had consequences. It seems you need a hard reminder of that!” Kadan barked as he further bound Skal's ankles, forcing the boy to stand in a wide stance.
“D-ad I'm s-sorry!” Skal whimpered as Kadan fetched the heavy belt. He folded it in his grip and pulled it tight, making a loud, threatening snap sound. “I won't do it again!”
“I damn well hope not,” his father growled as he stepped out of Skal's view. The first smack came soon after, the heavy belt slapping against the soft layer of fur that covered his buttocks. If it offered any cushioning at all, Skal certainly didn't perceive it. The strike drew a breathless yelp from the child as a bone-deep throbbing pulsed from his rear. As the first smack blossomed into full, hot ache the second came, higher up and mostly on the right cheek.
A pained sob escaped Skal's maw. He squirmed in his binds, but there was little he could do. The belting continued at a slow, steady pace, yet with unpredictable placement. Three strokes found the centre his left cheek, walking down to leave a long, reddened patch. The one after came onto the right at a slight angle, overlapping an older one and causing that dulled sting to flare up once more. Skal's bawling became far more urgent at that, which may have been why Kadan then focused on alternating smacks that now covered pre-punished ground. Tears flowing freely down his muzzle, the boy tried to plead for mercy, but all that came from his maw were howls as a sudden, off-timed smack would land the moment he began forming words. He was to suffer, if not in silence, then at least without words.
The miserable Penny soon lost count of how many times he'd been belted. It felt as if his entire rear was on fire, with pain pulsing through his cheeks like it were a living thing even when the belt stopped falling. That respite was all too brief, however, as it was simply due to Kadan adopting a new posture. A strong arm braced Skal's abdomen, holding him firmly in place as the belting resumed now on his right inner thigh. The smacks came lightning quick, starting at the top of the leg and descending a half-belt length each time. Skal's eyes snapped wide in brief surprise as the THWAP-WHAP-THWAP of the belt rang out through the room, his own silence lasting only a few brief moments before his nerves registered the hard strikes and a pain far worse than before engulfed him. He howled his throat raw as the belting worked all the way down to his knee, and then with barely a pause began again. His leg twitched and spasmed under his father's punitive hand, but the arm at his crotch took the weight and with his ankle bind kept the limb extended. He was briefly allowed to slump once the back of his knee had been smacked a second time, but he knew full well why that was.
“D-da' pl's!” he choked the ill-formed words out as best he could. “N'more!”
No acknowledgement of his feeble begging came. His left thigh was to have a turn, and the smacking was if anything more forceful than what came before. Skal endured it, he had no choice; all his squirming and sobbing got him nowhere, and when at last the belting ended he hung in the pillory as a wretched, broken thing. The thin padding around his wrists and neck took the weight of his slumping body for his legs could not – both twitched and shook in time with his hammering heart, too numb to hold him yet acutely sensitive to the thrashing that had turned his thighs and rear a fiery red.
Lost in his miserable little world, Skal didn't register Kadan had fetched the final implement. It was the sense of pressure beneath him that warned of what was coming as his rear was once more lifted up. The heavy paddle found its mark on the right cheek, nearly central, then moving to a similar point on the left cheek before returning to the first. The heavy smacks came at a measured pace, as if it were an exercise; a smack against the cheek, follow by an exhausted yelp and a fresh blub from Skal's maw, then repeat. Over, and over, smack after smack, with no variation or sign of relent. After all he'd endured, the first four smacks were enough to beat out even a token resistance, leaving him utterly limp and ruined. It did not stop after four. It did not stop after twenty.
When the paddling finally ceased, Skal had been rendered silent. Crying took more strength than he had left to give, and his frayed nerves had seemingly given up expressing how much hurt had been hammered through them. Kadan's labour had left two purple bruises in Skal's rear, haloed in red.
A soft caress ran down Skal's spine, drawing a confused shudder from the boy. Kadan's fingers lingered in the middle of his back as if probing for something before pulling away, and at last the pillory released. The broken boy almost fell to the ground, but his father caught him. The ankle binds came away and he was carried, shivering from the stress of what he'd suffered, to one of the soft bag chairs the children favoured. Kadan sat and lay Skal against his chest, holding the boy so that his tortured rear was untouched and as little of his thighs bore pressure as possible. His eyes then fell on the pale, frightened face of Sam. “Go to your room and get to bed,” he ordered, his tone soft yet clearly brooking no argument. “If I get there and find you've got so much as a toe out of bed I will give you what Skal just got and more.”
The girl's flight from the room was so desperate she almost tumbled down the stairs. Kadan let her go, content to sit and listen to Skal's anguished breathing. It was a long and difficult process for the punished boy to find calm and composure; the pain refused to abate, and an act as simple as steady breathing was marred by sharp shudders or fresh bouts of tearful sobs. Through it all, Kadan showed an uncharacteristic patience, though his fingers kneaded Skal's back in a manner that the boy took as a sign of frustration at his continued whimpering.
At last, when he judged Skal was of a mind to listen, Kadan moved a paw to cradle the back of the boy's head. “You have betrayed my trust, Skal,” he growled into the boy's ear.
“I-” Skal began, but a soft squeeze to the back of his head made him rethink the protestation.
“You can forget going on a ship,” he continued in the same low, frustrated tone, “You won't be getting any kind of privilege like that until you've earned that trust back. What you did today was stupid. I don't know what the hell you were thinking!”
The words drew fresh sobbing from the boy, yet through his dry-throated whines he struggled out an excuse. “I f-felt like... after w-what they did t-to me at the palace... like I des-served s-something!”
Kadan sighed into his ear. “What did you think I was giving you by letting you go into space with the Border Guard?”
“I... I know.” Skal closed his eyes and squeezed out a fresh streak of tears at the thought of losing out on that glorious dream. “I did... I wanted...”
He let his head fall against Kadan's shoulder and cried out his confusion. His father let him sob through this new episode until Skal found the strength to blurt out, “I don't want to be a penitatas any more! Haven't I suffered enough yet? After all I've been through I... I...”
More tears followed, but his confession at least prompted his father to stroke his back as he bawled. “You are a long way from that, Skal,” Kadan said, his voice now having lost most of its anger. “I've told you before that there's no shortcut out for you. You've got to put up with it. But...” Skal was pushed away into a kneeling position so that father and son could look each other in the eye, “you were not denied permission to go out because you're a penitatas. You were denied because you're my son. Do you understand that? What would you have done if someone had come after you? What if someone planned to kidnap you to try and get to me?” Kadan could see from the boy's expression that this had never crossed his mind. He shook his head in dismay. “Maybe I should have told you that in the first place. Maybe... you'd have stayed here if you knew why you couldn't go.”
Skal was lifted to the floor, and released when both were confident his legs would bear the load. “I need a drink. I need a lot of drinks. You can go join Sam in her bed.
“Dad... I'm sorry,” Skal whimpered.
“I know. We can talk about what comes next later, when you've had time to rest and heal. You won't be attending your Guild lectures tomorrow either; you and Sam will stay put in this room all day, understand?” The boy accepted the order with a nod. He suspected this was meant as a kindness, as being 'grounded' in a room full of toys and games was infinitely preferable to the coin-flip of dull lectures or harsh physical activity that the Enforcers education involved. Tail as low as his bruised rear allowed, Skal slunk toward the bedroom. Sam was tucked beneath as ordered, though it wasn't even dinner time yet. Somehow, the boy doubted they'd be getting anything to eat until tomorrow morning. He shuffled under next to her, whimpering at even the soft touch of a sheet against his well-spanked rear and thighs, but found welcome comfort in her embrace.
“How much trouble are we in?” Sam whispered.
The door creaked open. Skal didn't look around, keeping his eyes clenched shut as he listened to his father move around the room. His Kyyreni thermal-sense showed a brief haze as Kadan reached for the light and plunged the room into shadow. Sam's question went unanswered until morning, though it was long past midnight before Skal found anything resembling sleep.