Learning Curve - Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 4 (Patreon)

Unedited/Unbeta'd. Be prepared. You're about to see just how unhinged Evander is. You've been warned. Certain words edited for the bots per usual.

Evander

“Are you trying to kill me?” Baxter asked, flinging a stack of papers across the conference room table to land at Evander’s elbow.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Evander asked.

“No,” Baxter cried. “It’s a real, genuine question. I’m not even thirty and you’re giving me chest pains. Why are you like this?”

“Do you want my doctor’s answer, my mother’s answer, or that talking-head woman on the news who swears angels told her I’m demonically possessed?”

“I want you to be normal,” Baxter pleaded, palms together like he was praying. “Just for like…a few more weeks. Until the publicity around our stock prices dies down. Why is that so hard for you?”

“Normal is relative,” Evander said, plucking a piece of lint from his white sweater. “Are you going to tell me what I’ve done to upset you this time, or do I have to guess?”

Baxter’s eyes went comically wide as he gestured furiously at the papers in front of him.

Evander frowned. “What? This?” He tried to imagine what it was that could have Baxter this upset over some papers. “Is this about using the legal team during business hours? Because I assure you, I asked him to look into it on his own time and generously compensated him.” He turned his gaze on their corporate attorney, who was currently trying to make himself as small as possible at the far end of the table. “Did I not?”

The man–Sherman something–cleared his throat but didn’t answer. He was a meek little man with a weak chin, wire-rimmed glasses, and sad, watery eyes usually reserved for pet adoption commercials. He sat hunched in his chair, swimming in an expensive suit like he’d recently lost too much weight, his cell phone beside him like he was praying for it to ring and free him from this meeting.

“You…” Baxter closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and mouthed a silent count to ten. “You think we asked for this meeting because of a misuse of company time?”

Evander looked between the two of them, genuinely puzzled. “What else would it be?”

“You asked our legal department to draft up some kind of…sex contract between you and that boy.”

“I wouldn’t call it a contract,” Evander corrected calmly. “More like a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He turned back to Sherman. “No?”

The man cleared his throat again, then finally spoke. “This is not a legally enforceable contract, Mr. Frost.”

“See? Not a contract,” Evander said, satisfied. “Thank you. Will that be all?”

“No,” Baxter snapped. “Who cares what it’s called? That’s not the point.”

Evander leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his flat stomach, and giving the publicist a patient look. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“Dramatic?” Baxter all but shouted. “Dramatic? You had our legal team draw up a sex sl-ve contract and I’m the one being dramatic?”

“It’s not a contract,” Evander repeated. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“You can call it the goddamn Declaration of Independence,” Baxter said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you asked legal to write this!”

Evander blinked. “That’s the problem?” He huffed out something akin to a laugh. “Oh, if that’s what this is about, I didn’t ask them to write it. I wrote it. They just reviewed it to ensure fairness. As you can see, he’s being amply compensated. Is that all?”

“I’ll tell you when that’s all,” Baxter shot back.

Evander watched as he took a deep breath then let it out. It was only then Evander noticed the man wasn’t in one of his usual extravagant suits. Instead, he wore jeans, a blindingly white t-shirt, and a black sweater vest. Simple, but Baxter still managed to look expensive and imperious.

“You’re not dressed,” Evander noted absently.

“I assure you, I am,” Baxter countered. “But when one is woken from a peaceful slumber by a frantic legal secretary shouting about a potential scandal, one doesn’t think about wardrobe.”

“You always think about wardrobe,” Julian said as he breezed through the door and collapsed into the chair on Evander’s right like a broken doll.

“Not when your friend–our CEO–has asked the head of legal to draft him a sex sl-ve contract-”

Evander rolled his eyes and shot Julian an irritated look. “It’s not a—”

“Finish that sentence and I quit,” Baxter cut in. When Evander opened his mouth again, he added, “Don’t play with me, boy. I do not need this stress. And, as Julian likes to remind everyone, I don’t need the money. I’ll happily take my services elsewhere. You need me more than I need you.”

“You’re really blowing this out of proportion,” Evander said. “The real issue here is the snitch you hired as a legal secretary. How was this any of her business? Is she this loose-lipped with all company information?”

Julian snickered until Baxter’s furious gaze cut to him. His smile disappeared instantly.

Evander waved a hand. “This was between me and Mr…Mr…” He racked his brain, then looked to the man himself, hoping he’d fill in his last name. When Sherman only hunched further into himself, Evander finished, “And Sherman here.”

“This is why you dragged me in here on my day off? Because our weird CEO is being weird again?” Julian asked Baxter. “I’m scheduled for a chakra cleanse at noon.”

Baxter leveled a glare at Julian like he couldn’t decide if he was joking. Evander wasn’t sure either. Julian was into some oddities of his own.

The publicist pinned Evander with a narrowed gaze, then jabbed a finger at the papers. “Show him.”

“Show me what?” Julian asked.

“Show. Him.”

Evander rolled his eyes, then pushed the papers toward his friend. Julian frowned. “What’s this? I thought we’d signed all the paperwork for the–” He stopped short. “Confidential memorandum of understanding?” His voice was bewildered. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a boring way to say BDSM contract,” Baxter spat.

“It’s not a contract,” Evander mumbled again.

“A what now?” Julian’s gaze snapped back to Baxter, comically fast.

Baxter made a sweeping gesture toward the papers. “You have eyes. Do I have to spoon-feed you everything? Look for yourself.”

Julian scanned the paper, his tan skin turning pasty. “I…thought you said you were just gonna offer him a job?”

“He certainly expects him to work,” Sherman muttered.

Evander narrowed his eyes until the man slumped back in his chair.

Julian looked up at him like a disappointed mother. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give him this. Tell me this is just a rough draft, and there isn’t another copy floating around out there,” Julian said calmly.

“Why would it be a rough draft?” Evander asked. “My terms are quite clear. He can negotiate his allowance, obviously, and his safeword, though I prefer the traffic light system. And I’ll even allow him to weigh in on the list of disciplinary measures to be enacted should he disobey me.”

“Disobey you…” Julian repeated, glancing down at the contract again.

Sherman cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s these…disciplinary measures that…alarmed my legal secretary, Grace. They’re quite, um, explicit.”

Evander frowned. “Aren’t explicit terms preferable in a con—memorandum? Why are you so upset? I was very upfront about the terms. No small print. No hidden strings.”

Baxter’s gaze snapped to Julian, wide-eyed. It was the look he used when he wanted Julian to rein Evander in.

Julian gave a deep sigh and switched to that overly patient tone reserved for errant children who had no idea how close they were to being kicked down a flight of stairs. Not that Evander would do that. Probably.

“Yes, darling,” Julian said, voice calm to the point of menace. “That’s the problem. You very explicitly offered a sexual contract to the grandson of one of the most influential families in the country. I know you have a CPU where your brain should be, so please run the risk analysis and explain to yourself the worst-case scenario of pissing off a man who got half the Supreme Court elected.”

“I’m offended that you think I didn’t think this through thoroughly,” Evander said.

“How? You reconnected three days ago,” Julian reminded.

Evander started to smile, then thought better of it. “True. But I’ve been envisioning this arrangement for quite some time.”

Years.

“Oh, good. Now we can tack on premeditation,” Baxter shouted.

Evander looked to Sherman. “Can you please explain to them there’s nothing illegal about my proposal?”

Sherman’s watery gaze flicked between Julian and Baxter before he cleared his throat again. Nervous tic, Evander decided.

“Well, it’s not a matter of legality. The contract itself is not legally enforceable in any court of law. You cannot contract to ensl-ve someone–which, I’m sure we can all agree, is illegal–which renders the terms null and void.”

“See,” Evander said, starting to rise.

“However,” Sherman added. Evander sat back down with a sigh.

“If the press got hold of this, especially with these, uh, these terms and conditions, I don’t think it would bode well for the company’s reputation. Or, more importantly, our stocks.”

Evander pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with the company.”

“People don’t want to invest money with weirdos and perverts,” Baxter said, throwing up his hands.

“We both know that’s not true. Capitalism would collapse if people cared about the perversions of the wealthy,” Evander said evenly.

“Okay, then how about this. If the board finds out about this, they could oust you–and me–out of our own company,” Julian said. “Is that what you want?”

What he wanted was Matteo.

On his knees for him.

By whatever means necessary.

“Evander,” Julian said, once more using that maddeningly patient tone he saved just for him. “These kinds of contracts…they’re just…not done in real life. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Binary Code or whatever your robot brain is imagining. You can’t…buy someone’s sexual favors.”

When Evander arched a brow, Julian glowered at him. “You know what I mean. This kind of thing just isn’t done.”

“Sure it is,” Evander said. “I found the template online, made some adjustments, then gave it to Jacinda in legal to make sure I didn’t forget anything. When I didn’t hear back, I assumed it was fine as is. I’m simply waiting on Matteo’s answer.”

“You–You gave this to him already?” Julian asked, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

Baxter collapsed into his chair. “Now I really am having chest pains. Does anyone know what a heart attack feels like?”

“Like an elephant sitting on your chest,” Sherman provided.

“Oh, God,” Baxter groaned, rubbing his sternum. “Maybe this is a heart attack.”

“Probably a panic attack,” the lawyer said. “Any jaw pain, does your left arm hurt?”

When Evander shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass, Sherman lifted both hands. “Sorry. Just trying to help. He’s your publicist, let him die if you want to.” 

They all stared at the smaller man for a solid minute before Baxter turned to Julian. “He cannot be this thickheaded.”

“I’m afraid he can,” Julian said. He tapped the contract now sitting on the conference table between them. “Is this the exact agreement you gave him? With both your names at the bottom?”

Evander frowned at the idiotic question. “Of course.”

“Oh my god. If the press gets hold of this, the whole company’s going up in flames,” Baxter moaned.

“How would the press get hold of it?” Evander asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because that little twink of yours needs money, and selling something salacious to the tabloids would keep him afloat for a week or two,” Baxter said.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Evander said flatly.

“Desperate people do desperate things,” Julian said. “He’s a broke, homeless, former rich kid with a mean streak…by your own telling.”

“I put him up in a hotel until he makes his decision,” Evander said.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to eat a bag of dicks,” Sherman muttered, then immediately snapped his mouth shut, looking horrified he’d said the quiet part out loud.

“He did, in a manner of speaking,” Evander admitted. “But he didn’t mean it. He’ll reconsider. He’ll see I have his best interests at heart.”

Baxter snatched up the paper, flipping to the third page. “Schedule A. Consensual discipline and safety protocols.” He read out loud like he was auditioning for Hamlet. “‘Discipline’ refers to consensual corrective measures intended to correct noncompliance with adherence to household or representational standards.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Evander countered.

Baxter shot him a look but kept reading. “Examples of said measures include but are not limited to: restriction of privileges, clothing restrictions–whatever the fuck that means–”

“It means he has to earn back his clothes,” Evander supplied helpfully.

Baxter looked horrified but dropped his gaze back to the paper. “Additional domestic duties, temporary curfew, removal of discretionary allowance or–and this is my personal favorite–mutually agreed upon punishment rituals such as spanking, paddling, caning, flogging, gagging, orgasm control or any other physical measures deemed appropriate and necessary by Party A.”

“Jesus Christ,” Julian whispered.

Evander only stared at them. “What about it? Would you prefer I leave the terms vague so he didn’t know what he was agreeing to? That’s abuse.”

“Why do you need to punish your boyfriend?” Baxter demanded. “You sound like a goddamn lunatic.”

“How so?” Evander asked, genuinely puzzled.

People really loved to throw that word around. Lunatic. Monster. Deranged. As if wanting structure, wanting order, wanting Matteo whole wasn’t the most rational thing in the world. They didn’t understand. Evander was going to give Matteo the one thing he’d never had growing up…discipline. He couldn’t very well let Matteo choose his own punishments. Not at first. Not until he understood the rules, the hierarchy. Not until he accepted his new circumstances and started adhering to protocol.

Once more, Baxter looked to Julian, gesturing toward Evander like he was throwing him a live grenade.

“Do you truly not understand how unhinged this is?” Julian asked, scrutinizing him like he was some rare specimen under glass. “You’ve been obsessed with him since you were both kids. I know he was mean to you, but this seems excessive as far as revenge plots go.”

“Revenge?” Evander’s tone sharpened. “This has nothing to do with vengeance. Do you think I couldn’t destroy his life irreparably if that was my end goal? This isn’t about revenge…it’s about love.”

“Love,” Baxter choked out. “Love? You said you haven’t seen him in years.”

Evander waved a hand, dismissive. “I’ve known Matteo was mine since the moment I was old enough to understand what that meant.”

“I’m pretty sure you still don’t understand what that means,” Julian said carefully. “You can’t just lock him up in your house and force him to do chores and give you sex whenever you want in exchange for money.”

“This isn’t about the sex,” Evander said, voice dropping like a gavel. “It’s about giving up control. To me.”

“Nobody in their right mind would agree to this. And–not to put too fine a point on it–but you’ve written sex into the contract,” Baxter said. “How could it not be about sex?”

“That’s for clarity,” Evander said smoothly. “He has full autonomy.”

“He can refuse sex?” Baxter pressed, eyes narrowing like he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Of course not,” Evander said. “But he doesn’t have to agree to any of this. He’s a consenting adult. And like Sherman says, none of it is legally binding. He can walk anytime he wants to. If he signs this, it’s because he wants all of it. The discipline, the loss of control.”

“Or he just wants food and a roof over his head,” Julian said.

“I told him I wouldn’t leave him without resources, regardless of his decision. Now the choice is his.”

“Jesus Christ,” Julian muttered.

“He can safeword any time he likes,” Evander said. “I’m not a total monster.”

Baxter scoffed, glowering at him. “Debatable, Manson.”

Evander rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand Matteo the way I do. He’s always been spoiled, coddled with money. But he’s lacked affection, attention, consequences. I’m going to give him what his parents never did.”

“And that involves sex on demand and…orgasm control?” Julian muttered.

“I could do it without that, I suppose,” Evander admitted. “But I don’t think he’d like the continuous rejection.”

“You think he’s going to be the one begging you for sex?” Baxter asked.

Sherman flushed, then picked up his phone, studying it like it held the secrets to the galaxy.

“Trust me, he will,” Evander said. “And Matteo can’t take rejection. I don’t plan on prolonging his suffering any longer than necessary to prove my point.”

“To what end?” Julian asked. “Where is this going? This…training of yours? What carrot could you possibly dangle big enough for him to withstand all this.”

“Oh, check section 4,” Baxter said, a high, shrill laugh escaping.

Julian flipped the page, then scanned it. “Marry him?” he shouted, before collecting himself and giving Evander a patient look. “You really are insane. Look, I get wanting to get your first marriage out of the way, but why this kid? He’s got a criminal record, a family with more karmic debt than the mafia, and he’s a stuck-up little brat. Is this really who you want in the press as your husband?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the press,” Evander said, his voice sharpening. “I’ll let you control a lot of things in my life. But not this. I’ll train Matteo to be everything I know he can be and then I’ll give him the life he’s always wanted.”

“Without a prenup,” Baxter cried, like he was shouting mazel tov.

Julian choked. “What?” He turned back to Evander, wild-eyed, tone fraying. “Look, man, I admit I don’t understand your kinky sex games. But be reasonable. You cannot let that conniving little—”

He cut himself off when he noticed the muscle ticking in Evander’s jaw.

“You cannot give him access to a billion-dollar company. He’ll destroy everything we’ve worked for. I can’t let you do it. Not over some…childhood crush.”

“I promise you that by the time I propose, you won’t even recognize him,” Evander said.

“We’ll recognize his mugshot,” Baxter cried. “At this rate, it’ll be on the post office wall right next to mine when I murder you.”

“They only put America’s Most Wanted felons up in post offices,” Evander said, calm as ever.

“Well, you’re well on your way to getting your own mugshot up there,” Baxter snapped.

“Me?” Evander asked. “For what?”

“For turning courting you into The Hunger Games.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Matteo isn’t competing against anyone. This is more like a hero’s trial,” Evander said. “And I know he’ll perform beautifully.”

“I-I got nothing,” Julian muttered. “I’m gonna go…have my chakras cleansed.” He met Baxter’s eyes. “Wanna come? We can get lunch.”

Baxter looked between Evander and Sherman, then threw up his hands. “Yeah, you know what–screw this. I’m taking a half-day. After this conversation, my chakras feel seriously contaminated.” He snatched the papers, shaking them in frustration. “And if this blows up, I’m billing you for the therapy.”