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girlwiththenegantattoo · 1 year

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This is entirely @aherdofbees @agirlinherhead @everythingbutresolved @apbajs @plainlo-inthemorning and most importantly Hamish' fault.

Not sure if a part 2 is wanted but this was fun to write. Throwing down here and editing more later.

TW: Mention of abuse, whipping erotic behavior

"Sometimes you deal with the devil not because you want to, but because if you don't, someone else will."

When you were a little girl your father seemed to have an endless amount of advice and words of wisdom. Naturally, most of them went in one ear and out the other. Honestly, it was all but that one.

After high school you decided to get into teaching and while doing so, generally had it stresses, the rewards out weighed any negative experiences. That was until you figured a move across the United State and a new school would help you come into your own. Hadn't it been just your luck that you also chose a school with a teacher whom was racist, miss 'gifted with good looks and possibly harbored a fetish for whips?

Calling Maynard Spencer the devil would be giving that horrible excuse of a man, too much credit in your opinion. To you, he was merely a giant, insecure child. A man with a superior complex that was based off nothing but lies and severely misconstrued beliefs. Looking into Maynard's eyes you didn't see pitch black ovals or distance flames, flickering with the light that hits them. Instead, there's just the bend of thick eyebrows, sat challengingly, over brown iris'. To you, Mr Spencer's was far from the Devil, not even close.

Despite how protective you've become over all of your students throughout the years, the ones at Nichol School for Boys held a special place in your heart. Which made it all the more devastating hearing of the heinous acts that take place in a secluded building called the White House. How could one school just turn their cheek and pretend nothing was going on? You tried everything in your power to put an end to Maynard abuse until the only option left was to make a deal with the devil.

----

The thought of having to come to Mr. Spencer and make such a ludicrous deal made you physically ill but you were willing to do anything for those kids.

"I'll let you whii...whip me, if you promise to leave the kids alone"

The smile he gave you then sent a chill running down your spine before he spoke in his thick monotone southern drawl.

"I'm not sure a little lady such as yourself would be able to handle that."

It was clear that he thought highly of himself, throwing condescending remarks towards you purely for the sake of getting under your skin. The most infuriating fact was that it was actually working.

----

"I want you to go over to that wall and stay there," Maynard growled as the hairs of his mustache tickled your ear.

The building was as you expected it to be, fairly dark save for the sun rays that shone through the high glass window. The only sound that accompanied the dreariness of your surroundings, was the buzzing of fluorescent bulbs as they came to life. Upon arrival you couldn't pinpoint what was creating most of your anxiety. Was it the fear of what's to come or how small he was currently making you feel?

Resting your back against the wall, you wrung your hands together while giving Maynard an expectant look.

"Take off your clothes and turn around." It was a curt demand. A smug smile crossed his lips as he watched you stare back in a stunned silence.

"Is that what you make the little boys you whip do. Do you make them strip?" The sudden brazen in your demeanor surprised even yourself. A sound akin to a snarl fell from Maynard's lips before he tried to compose himself by feigning a look of contemplation. "Suit yourself, just figured a whore would want to keep her nice cloth in one piece."

By some miracle you were able to keep the anger out of your eyes and give him a pointed look instead. You wouldn't allow him to disparage you any further. Finally turning around you placed your hands on the wall and judging by his gruff mumbles, his patiences with you was wearing thin.

"It's such a shame that you're willing to endure so much pain for some worthless kids."

Before you could reply, a sharp cry was pulled from the back of your throat as blinding pain shot through you. The harsh contact was felt long before the sound rang in your ears. Neither of you agreed on a count down but you thought you'd at-least know it was coming.

"Or maybe this is something you are into."

Two more blows were administered in rapid succession, nearly causing your knees to give out. The aftermath resulted in trying to keep your breaths shallow, for the expanding of your lung only sent more pain blossoming through your rib cage.

"Mmm... I love the sound you make when the leather touches your skin. Are you enjoying this as much as me?"

There was a beat of silence before another whack filled the room, this time it was off to the side as to demand an actual answer. Remaining quiet you hadn't been prepared for the sight you saw when you looked back over your shoulder.

Maynards usually well kept brown hair hung in wet strands down in front of his forehead as he stood heaving and cheeks red. His thin white tank top clung to his chest, soaked with sweat. You realized he must have removed his shirt after you turned your back because you hadn't noticed the suspenders that were now hanging down on his sides before. The grip he held on the whip's handle was causing his knuckles to turn white while the sweat that ran down his neck and shoulders glistened in the dim fluorescent lights.

With a cruel smile now painted on his lips, Maynard casually made his way to stand directly behind you. Placing his left hand on the wall just above yours, the whip dangled from his tight grip. It was longer than you thought with its dark brown, braided leather giving it a round shape.

Cocking his head to the side Maynard let out a low whistle, his face so close that his nose almost touched your cheek. Slowly, he slid his hand under the back of your shirt and the contrast between his cool sweaty palm and your burning flesh prompted an inward sigh.

"Those feel like some angry welts, I have something that can help with that." His voice sounded emotionless

Repulsive

Dipping his head, Maynard began to run the tip of his nose up your neck, stopping just behind your ear.

"Oh...the things I could do to you."

Maynard's words were far from the soft touches he laid onto your skin yet, the heady mix of both were becoming too much to ignore. You couldn't forget the reason why you agreed to this.

Catching him completely off guard, you landed a particularly hard blow to the underside of his ribcage, with the back of your elbow. To your relief Maynard dropped the whip to clutch at his side but he hadn't stumbled backwards like you hoped. The ponderous weight of a muscular 6 '4 man proved to be too much for your attempted shoved. However, the few steps Maynard took to steady himself gave you time to bend down and snatch the whip.

There was something incredibly eerie about the way he stood up to his full height with a scowl that turned to a sinister smile.

“Get over there on your knees,” you ordered, praying your voice wouldn't betray you. Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Maynard narrowed his eyes

“Or what?”

Not waiting for your answer he took a step towards you. Acting as if your arm had a mind of its own, the snap of your wrist sent the end of the whip slicing across his cheek. The cut was minimal but startled Maynard all the same. Reaching up, he placed two fingers over the wound and emitted what you could only describe as a low growl.

“It's either your face or your back. You choose”

Once he stood with his back facing you, getting him to his knees took a single whip to his calves. Better

“Now I'm going to show you what this feels like.”

The first strike landed with an exquisite whack causing his back to arch inwards and a strained grunt to leave his lips. Unsatisfied with his reaction you put a bit more muscle into your next strike, the contact of the leather lash exploding in a thundering noise. This time a high pitched groan reverberated around the empty room, the force of impact bringing him to hunch over his knees. The tremble in his body was now evidently visible. Still not what you wanted to hear, you began to lose hope. What if he wouldn't break? What's the point in teaching a lesson if no one learns from it? Suddenly, you watched on in astonishment as he straightened his back.

Perhaps your actions were fueled by anger but with a fluid motion of your wrist you landed the third blow square between his shoulder blade. Throwing his head back a deep moan triggered a titillating shiver to course through you. Oh. He wasn't trying to bear the pain of his punishment. He was actually enjoying it.

For the first time ever, you felt powerful while in his presence.

The pride in your steps echoed delightfully as you walked closer. Running the end of the whip over his shoulder, it came to rest between his legs after sliding down his torso like a snake. Its leather wet with the sweat gathered on each blow. If his hooded eyes were any indication, Maynard's heavy breathing was not due to pain.

Kneeling in front of him, you made sure you had his full attention. "Now. I've seen what your hands can do with the whip in it. Let's see what they can do without."

#hamish linklater #Maynard Spencer is an absolute trash of a human being #but this is a fic where he'll learn his lesson #Maynard Spencer #golly #the nickel boys

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