Swift Justice
E-mail: scarlet679@hotmail.com
Summary: Mulder finds trouble and swift retribution. Challenge story.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A furious Walter Skinner sat gripping the steering wheel of his car so
tightly his knuckles were turning white. He'd had to cancel two employee
reviews, a meeting with the Director and a handball game, all so he could
drive to some back-hills, hick town in Virginia to bail Agent Fox Mulder out
of jail.
He kept his eyes on the road and his speedometer at well over the legal
limit as he planned all the shit duty and punishment assignments he would
force on Mulder for this little fiasco.
He arrived in Murphyville at just past 10:00 PM. The combination of the
long drive, anger and no dinner had, if anything, made him even more angry
than he had been when he had left the Hoover Building.
He slammed his car door and stalked into the police station to face one
blue-clad officer sitting behind a raised desk, a look of utter boredom on
his pudgy face.
Skinner flipped open his ID, practically shoving it at the man. "I
understand you have a federal officer under arrest. I'd like to clear this
matter up as soon as possible and be on my way back to DC."
"Well, I'm sure you would, but it just don't work like that in Murphyville,
Mr. Assistant Director."
Skinner gritted his teeth, "I'm sure we can work something out. Why don't
you just get all the paperwork in order while I talk with my agent."
"No can do. He's due in court in fifteen minutes. You can see him when
it's all over."
"Court? He was just arrested this morning."
"Judge Todd doesn't believe in delaying justice like you big city boys are
wont to do. We make the arrest, and Judge Todd hears the case, usually in
the same day. He's fair but tough. You may not get to take that boy of
yours home with you like you're in such an all-fired hurry to do."
"We'll just see about that! Where is the courtroom?"
"Across the street, second floor, but it won't do you no good. Judge Todd
is gonna' make sure your boy is punished but good."
Skinner hurried across the street, his fists clenched inside his coat
pockets. How did Mulder always manage to get himself into these things?
And more importantly, how was Skinner going to get Mulder out of it. He
could not allow Mulder to cool his heels in a jail for a few months, it
wasn't safe for a federal officer to be incarcerated, even in a one horse
town like this one.
The AD slipped in through the door of the only courtroom to find his agent,
dressed in the usual orange jumpsuit, sitting alone at the defendants table.
He looked totally dejected, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging almost
to his cuffed wrists on the table in front of him. A big scowling deputy
sheriff stood guard over him, hand resting on the butt of his gun as if he
feared Mulder capable of the worst kind of violence at any minute. Hell,
maybe he was.
There weren't many other people in the courtroom, which was understandable
considering the late hour. There was a man at the other table who had to be
the prosecuting attorney, even though he looked all of seventeen. There was
another deputy, the court clerk and the bailiff standing over by a door that
probably lead to the judge's chambers. The front seats in the gallery were
occupied by one man, in a wrinkled lab coat, and two woman, one perhaps in
her fifties the other at least seventy. Two scruffy looking old men, who
looked like they used the courtroom for their daily entertainment, were
sitting further in the back. The air in the room seemed quiet and
oppressive.
Leaning against a far wall, glaring hatefully at the despondent young
defendant was a man who could only be the local sheriff. He was a big man,
probably played football in high school, the muscle just beginning to
settling into fat as he approached middle age. His salt and pepper hair was
still thick but his eyes had grown cold in his face. A face that showed the
effects of a promising future turned to disappointment and bitterness.
Skinner grimaced when he noticed the sheriff was shorting a split lip.
The bailiff called for everyone to stand as the judge entered. Judge Todd
was tall and distinguished, with a no-nonsense demeanor, his black robe
flowing behind him as he spared one glance at the sheriff before peering
angrily at Mulder.
As the agent had awkwardly gained his feet, Skinner found himself
experiencing a wave of anger at the angry bruise that covered the younger
man's left cheekbone. He wondered is the sheriff were responsible for the
injury.
"Fox Mulder." The bailiff called in a clear, strong voice. "Breaking and
entering. Destruction of private property. Assaulting a police officer."
The judge trained a malicious eye on Mulder. "You've waved your right to
counsel, young man. Is that correct?"
"He said he couldn't work with me, your honor."
"What he said, young man," the judge spoke through a tightly clenched jaw,
"was that you were a brat and _he_ refused to represent you."
"I'm a federal officer, sir, and I . . ."
"And," the judge didn't give him time to finish his statement. "From what
Jimmy Bill," he nodded toward the sheriff, "has told me, I would have to
concur with that assessment."
The judge turned to the prosecutor, "Call your first witness, Joel."
"Your honor?" All eyes turned to Skinner as he stood up. "I'd like to
offer myself as a character witness for Agent Mulder. I'm Assistant
Director Walter Skinner of the FBI, and Agent Mulder's direct supervisory
officer."
Skinner wanted to smile as his agent looked for all the world like he might
faint from relief. Skinner, however, kept his face completely impassive.
Someone in this courtroom should maintain some professionalism.
"So you're the one supposed to be controlling this undisciplined young man?"
"Agent Mulder is under my command, yes sir."
"Well why don't you just come on up here and sit beside your _agent_,
Assistant Director, and see first hand how we deal with young troublemakers
in Murphyville" When Skinner had seated himself by his grateful agent, the
judge again turned to the prosecutor. "Joel, first witness?"
The baby-faced attorney spoke, his voice cracking. "I call Dr. James
Peterson."
"Just calm down, Joel." The judge soothed. "I know this is your first case
but it's an easy one."
Skinner scowled at the judge. So much for a fair trial. The Director may
have to be called in on this first thing in the morning, though Skinner
would rather avoid that if possible for Mulder's sake.
One of the men in the front row rose and took the witness chair, he too
glared at Mulder.
"Do you recognize his man, Dr. Peterson?" Joel pointed at Mulder.
"Yes, he broke into my medical clinic at 3:00 a.m. this morning. "We're
positive he was looking for drugs. I could tell by the black leather jacket
he was wearing. He looked just like a street punk I saw arrested on 'Cops'
last week."
Skinner kicked Mulder shin under the table. He was so tired of that black
leather adventure suit of Mulder's.
"Ouch!" Mulder glared at Skinner and then jumped to his feet to object. "I
object to that! I wasn't after . . ."
"That's enough, son. You'll get your chance to ask the Doc your questions.
Now just sit down and be quiet. Go ahead, Joel."
"Was anything actually taken, Dr. Peterson?" Joel continued.
"No, the lady who lives across the street, Millie Harmon, called the sheriff
and he got there before he could finish the drug heist."
Mulder rolled his eyes and Skinner kicked his shin under the table yet
again.
"Ouch!"
The judge scowled at Mulder who immediately clamped his lips shut, shooting
what he hoped was a suitable dangerous look to his kicking boss.
"What happened after the sheriff arrived, Dr. Peterson?"
"That criminal dodged around the sheriff and ran out the front door. Drug
ingestion can often times cause someone to have bursts of extraordinary
speed and agility. Yet anther reason I'm convinced he's a druggie."
"Thank you, Dr. Peterson." Joel smiled at the man who had delivered him
into the world. "No further questions, your honor."
"All right you can ask your questions now, Mr. Mulder."
Mulder rose, the too large orange jumpsuit hanging off his slender body,
making him look like a little boy playing dress-up. "What were you doing at
the clinic at 3:00 a.m., Dr. Peterson?"
"Catching up on some paperwork. I often keep odd hours in the clinic. Too
much work, too little time."
Mulder snorted at the man's answer. "Isn't it true, Dr. Peterson, that you
were actually there doing illegal and immoral medical experimentation on
unwilling American citizens?"
"What? No!"
"And isn't it true, doctor, that you are part of an on-going government
conspiracy to aid in the colonization of earth by extra terrestrials. And
that your innocent looking little medical clinic is, in reality, a secret
alien cloning laboratory?"
The courtroom went deadly silent. Skinner moaned and buried his head in his
hands, looking up only to see Mulder staring at him, wide eyes doing that
slow innocent blink that tended to drive his boss insane.
"Alien clones?" The doctor screeched. "You're not only a big-city street
punk and a drug dealer, you're insane!" The doctor tried to scramble back
in his chair to get away from the psycho boy in front of him.
"Very good acting, Dr. Peterson!" Mulder accused. "Where are they? The
alien hybrids and the green slime you grow them in? Just where are you
hiding them, Doctor?"
"No! No, you're crazy. Stay away form me!"
The judge rose ominously from his chair. "Sit down, young man!" Judge Todd
turned cold eyes on Skinner. "How many more like this one do you have
hidden away up there in Washington, Assistant Director Skinner?"
"I can say without reservation, your honor, that Agent Mulder is one of a
kind."
"Well thank heavens for small favors. Maybe there is some hope for our
grand government after all. Joel, call your next witness."
"Millie Harmon." The older woman in the front row rose, her arm being
patted reassuringly by the younger woman at her side. She slowly made her
way to the witness stand.
"Now Aunt Millie, just tell the court what you saw." Joel soothed the
nervous woman.
"I couldn't sleep, so I was up watching television when my little dog, Angel
Muffin, started barking to beat the band. Now I'm not one to pry into what
my neighbors are up too, mind you, but I happened to have my telescope set
up at the window so I looked out and saw that young man breaking into the
medical clinic across the street."
"How did you know he was breaking in, Millie?"
"I could see he was using a lock-pick. I know because I saw one used on
'Law and Order' a few weeks back."
Skinner kicked his agent under the table again. He hated that damned lock
pick of Mulder's too.
"Ouch!" Mulder tried to scoot his chair further away from Skinner's long
legs.
"Then Angel Muffin and I went outside to guard the entrance until the
sheriff could arrive. I was mighty scared and so was my little dog, but
I've lived in this town for seventy-three years, and no big city gang-member
boy is going to force me to stay inside."
"So what happened when the sheriff got there, Millie?"
"He told me to stay back. Sheriff Jimmy Bill is always so considerate of
the older folks in town, you know. Anyway, he went in the building. I
heard some yelling and then that terrible young man came running out with
Jimmy Bill struggling along behind him." She turned to the sheriff. "You
really need to lose a few pounds, dear. Then that boy savagely attacked our
good sheriff."
"Your witness, Mr. Mulder."
"Mrs. Harmon, I didn't really attack the sheriff now did I? In fact, I was
the one attacked by your vicious little dog."
"Angel Muffin is not vicious." The old woman looked at the judge with tears
in her bright blue eyes. "When this man ran out of the clinic, Angel Muffin
started running around his feet, barking."
"Yipping." Mulder corrected.
"Barking," the older woman narrowed her eyes at the disrespectful young man.
"I have to give this particular criminal credit, he did try not to step on
my Angel Muffin, but he got tangled up in his own feet and feel backwards
landing on the sheriff. Plumb busted our poor Jimmy Bill's lip. While I
had my handkerchief to the sheriff's mouth, this horrid boy ran away."
"Thank you, Millie." The judge smiled at the old woman. "You can step down
now. "And you," Todd pointed at Mulder can sit down too. Do we have any
other witnesses?"
"Your honor," Skinner stood up. "I would just like to say that Agent Mulder
is one of my finest agents and although his investigative techniques are
oftentimes hard to understand, his solve rate is outstanding. He is a
brilliant and gifted asset to the bureau. It would be a grave injustice to
ruin the career of a young man who has taken so many killers off the
streets. He bravely risks his life everyday to make the county safer for
all of us, and I for one, think that should count for something."
The judge studied the forlorn man sitting beside the Assistant Director,
then he looked around the room at the people he had been elected to serve.
"Stand up, son." When Mulder rose to his feet, the judge continued to stare
at him until he began to fidget.
"The sheriff had seventeen complaints about you today, son. You went all
over town yesterday asking people about missing time, alien visitation,
unexplained lights in the night sky. You tried to get in to see Dr.
Peterson, and when that appointment was denied you waited until the dark of
night and broke into his clinic. Then you fled the scene of the crime. My
understanding is that it took three deputies to finally get you locked up in
our jail. I have no doubt that you are a good agent. I believe that you
are because of your determination, your obvious intelligence and the fact
that man to your right says you are. He doesn't strike me as a man who
would lie, even to save one of his own."
Skinner nodded his thanks.
"So while I think you deserve to be punished for your uh, crimes. I am not
going to do anything to jeopardize your law enforcement career. Therefore
my judgement is that you are hereby fined $500 and sentenced to be publicly
punished. Sentence to be carried out immediately."
"What! You can't do that!"
"You will be quiet, Agent Mulder, or I will find you in contempt of court,
render a guilty verdict on all charges, and you _will_ do jail time. And,
if I'm not mistaken, federal agents are not allowed to retain their badges
if they are convicted of a crime. Am I not correct, Mr. Skinner."
Skinner nodded his head, one steadying hand going to rest on Mulder's arm.
When Mulder opened his mouth as if to protest again, his boss slipped a big
arm around his neck, pulling him up against his chest. The other hand
coming up to cover his mouth.
"Take the deal, Mulder!" The AD hissed in the younger man's ear. "Take the
damned deal and let's get out of here."
When Mulder nodded, Skinner released him to stand quietly by his side.
"Agent Mulder agrees to abide by your sentence without further objections,
your honor."
"Fine. Sentence to be carried out in fifteen minutes in this courtroom.
Bailiff go cut a good sturdy switch from that old hickory tree out back.
Ladies," the judge turned to the two women in the front row. "I intend that
this young man feel his discipline on his bare backside. You are free to
leave the courtroom if you would prefer."
"I'm staying!" Millie proclaimed.
"That's your choice, Aunt Millie. Deputy Myers put a 'Court Recessed' sign
on the front door and lock it. Jimmy Bill, bring that table and chair over
here and set them in the middle of the floor. Make sure you leave lots of
room around them. There's going to be some frenzied activity taking place
there."
A sturdy wooden, waist-high library table and a straight-back chair were
moved to stand in front of the judge's raised bench. Skinner noticed the
two old men had moved up from the back to take seats in the front, leaning
on the rail that separated spectators from attorneys. He looked over at
Mulder. His face was bright red and he was trembling but he was staring
straight ahead, face impassive. Probably wouldn't stay that way for long.
AD Skinner," The AD looked up to see the judge's eyes boring into him. "If
you don't feel comfortable administering this sentence, I will have Sheriff
Osgood do it in your stead. I'm quite sure however, that this boy's actions
while in Murphyville are not something new to him, and that you would agree
he is long overdue for a good reining in."
Skinner glanced again at his trembling agent. "I'll administer Agent
Mulder's punishment, your honor."
"Fine, Assistant Director Skinner. I assume that you know what I expect of
you?"
"Yes, your honor. I'll make it memorable for him."
"Fine. Bailiff, uncuff the prisoner and bring him up front to be prepared
to receive his court-ordered correction."
The bailiff grabbed Mulder's arm leading him stumbling to the front of the
court like a lamb to slaughter. Skinner didn't think he'd ever seen Mulder
close in on himself like this but he supposed it might be better for him to
get through this. Mulder had gotten himself in a real mess this time, and
there was not way out, for either of them.
Skinner looked over the ugly orange one piece jumpsuit, then looked up into
Mulder's eyes and saw that his agent was well aware of what was about to
happen to his dignity.
Skinner appealed to the man looking down on them from the bench. "Your
honor, I would ask that my agent be allowed to change clothing for modesty's
sake."
"Humiliation is a good part of any whipping sentence I hand out, AD Skinner,
otherwise this would be taking place in my chambers behind closed doors.
Bare him for punishment."
"I'm sorry, Mulder."
The agent flushed even brighter but nodded at his boss. "It's not like I
have a lot of options, sir, but you could get out of this."
"Yeah, you pretty much painted yourself in a corner, but I'll see it through
with you. I'll have to be hard on you. Todd won't except less, I want you
to know that. Now, kick off your shoes and lets get this over with." As
Mulder ridded himself of the lightweight jail issue sandals, Skinner reached
for the zipper at the front of the one piece suit. They hadn't allowed the
young man to retain any of his street clothing. As the jumpsuit was pulled
down, his naked body was slowly revealed for all to see.
"Are you okay, Mulder?" The agent looked down at his bare feet, avoiding
the eyes of his avid audience, his face and chest flushed a burning red.
The tips of his ears positively glowing. He nodded without looking up.
"Agent Mulder," the judge commanded. "I want you to face the bench, back
straight." After only a few moments hesitation, he complied, giving the
gallery a perfect view of his round, tight butt. "Lock your hands behind
your head, son, and don't move them until I tell you. There will be extra
strokes for not following orders. Now, since you acted like a brat, I plan
to start your punishment like one. Mr. Skinner you will take this young man
over your knee for a good old-fashioned bare bottom spanking. I'm not going
to tell you how many to give him, but I expect this brash young federal
agent to have been replaced by a thoroughly blistered and sobbing little boy
when you're finished. Do I make myself clear, Assistant Director Skinner?"
"Yes, your honor." He sat down in the chair and pulled a dazed and blushing
Mulder over his knee, adjusting him until the condemned white bottom was
high in the air over his lap.
The sheriff and his deputies had moved up to stand less than three feet
away. It was obvious that they intended to have an unobstructed view of
Mulder's tear-streaked face as well as his reddening rump.
Mulder was determined not to cry. And perhaps that plan would have worked,
had not the man carrying out the spanking not known his assigned victim
quite so well. Skinner knew that if he didn't deliver a good hard spanking
to his agent, the younger man would soon find himself over the sheriff's
willing knee for another
even harsher lesson. He didn't intend to let that happen. Mulder would cry
real tears over this, and plenty of them.
The first slap landed with a loud crack right in the middle of the rounded
right cheek. Another of equal intensity soon followed on the left cheek.
Mulder's body flinched but he managed to keep his lips pressed firmly
together as his butt was peppered with a barrage of hard, stinging slaps.
From his upside down position, Mulder could see three pairs of highly shined
black shoes in his line of sight. Leave it to the damned sheriff not to
want to miss one single slap that was connecting with his unprotected
backside. Mulder closed his eyes as a couple of tears threatened to spill
down his cheeks. He could just imagine how much that ridiculously young DA
and that arrogant doctor were enjoying this spectacle he was being forced to
make of himself.
Skinner just kept pounding his rapidly reddening butt, the burn building to
fiery proportions. The agent couldn't help the bouncing of his abused
backside or the kicking of his legs, but he refused to let them hear him
cry. He clamped down on his resolve as the fire in his backside burned out
of control. And just when Mulder was sure his scalded seat couldn't take
one more slap, Skinner moved to the back of his thighs. The pain was
horrendous, and the first cry of agony escaped the agent's sealed lips.
When the color of Mulder's thighs matched that of his blazing bottom,
Skinner moved back to the two scarlet mounds of abused flesh awaiting his
further attention. He moved the howling agent's legs apart, revealing
several areas of usually hidden, tender white skin. These next scathing
spanks would be the one to send the well-punished man over the edge into
crying and begging. Which was exactly what it was going to take to satisfy
the judge that Skinner was doing an adequate job with his current
assignment.
As Skinner meticulously slapped the delicate skin that separated cheek from
cheek, and butt from thigh, Mulder was reduced to woeful sobbing, heartfelt
promises of reform, and frantic pleas for mercy. All thoughts of bravery
and dignity long beaten out of him.
Skinner moved to slap the sizzling bottom cheeks once more. The agent
raised his head and howled to the ceiling, begging Skinner to stop. Finally
Mulder just collapsed over his chastiser's knees, his bare butt a mass of
flaming, blistered skin, it's owner a sobbing, repentant wreck.
"I think that will do, Assistant Director Skinner."
The AD rose, pulling his remorseful agent up with him.
"Turn and face the bench, Mr. Mulder."
The agent did so, still hopping from foot to foot as he displayed his
well-spanked bottom to his captivated audience.
"Now that your bare bottom has been properly prepared for punishment, you
will now receive six strokes of a hickory switch. Have you ever been
switched before, Mr. Mulder?"
"N . . .no, sir. Please, your honor, no more."
"Then it should be quite an enlightening experience for you. And I'm sure
your reaction will be very entertaining for the rest of us. There's nothing
quiet like the sting a good hickory switch, especially on a freshly
tenderized backside. You are to lean across the table and hold on the edge,
boy. Don't try to get up. We expect you to dance under the switch but you
must not attempt to stand up until it's over. Proceed Mr. Skinner."
Skinner laid the switch across the already red, sore target, lifted it over
his right shoulder and brought it down with a sharp crack. The effect was
instantaneous. Mulder screamed, fighting to retain his bent-over position
as his bottom withered on the table and his feet danced on the floor. A
thin red line of pure fire painted itself across the tortured backside.
Skinner raised his switch again.
The second and third stripes earned wails and more desperate wriggling of
bottom and legs from the tormented agent. Skinner looked up to see the
judge looking down with satisfaction on the agent's agonized face and
burning backside.
Through a haze of anger, Skinner laid on the next three welts one right
after the other in quick succession. Giving Mulder little time to react or
even comprehend one stroke from the next. When it was finally over, six
thin raised welts decorated the once white bottom, the once confident agent
reduced to a sobbing well-punished boy."
Skinner started to pull his agent up from the table to be stopped by the
judge.
"Just a moment, Mr. Skinner. Jimmy Bill, what's your opinion?"
The sheriff walked casually over to the weeping agent. He started to probe
at one of the welts with a big, blunt finger but was surprised when the AD
slapped his hand away. "Don't touch him."
The sheriff glared into the angry, brown eyes of the big-city man now
confronting him. "I think he needs a couple more across the legs, judge."
The sheriff smiled as Skinner gritted his teeth. "You heard the sheriff,
Assistant Director. Two more across the top of the thighs, right where
he'll feel them if he should be so foolish as to try to sit down anytime
soon."
Skinner placed a large restraining hand in the small of Mulder's back,
pinning him to the table. He then lifted the deadly switch. It was no more
than a blur as it flashed down to sink into the tender skin on Mulder's
upper thighs. The agent screamed again, fighting Skinner's hand to rise
from the rack of torture he had been caught on. Another whistle as the
switch cut through the air and yet another lightening strike of agony across
the agent's naked thighs.
Mulder didn't scream this time, he just babbled incoherently as his bottom
continued its grievous dance on the table.
Skinner left Mulder to walk over to the clerk, handing the man five one
hundred dollar bills. He then gently wrapped the orange jump suit around
his agent's hips, pulled him up and over his shoulder, and stalked out of
the courtroom.
He had to drive about five miles to find a motel room, cursing the judge,
the town and Mulder in a continuous and very creative stream of profanity.
He picked up his shaking agent off the back seat, kicking the door to open
it. He laid the younger man on the bed, scowling down at him as he curled
into a fetal ball in the center of the faded coverlet.
"Mulder, I'm going back to that grocery store we passed and see what they
have in the way of first aid supplies. So help me if you move from that
bed, I'm going to . . .hell, I have no idea what I'll do, but I'll think of
something. And trust me, you won't like it."
When he returned the agent hadn't moved an inch and was even dozing
restlessly, his face hot and perspiring.
Skinner filled the tub with cool weather and added the aloe body wash that
the store clerk had recommended for severe burns. He gently shook the man
awake and before he became completely alert, scooped him up and deposited
him in the cool water. Mulder hissed in pain as his sore butt met with the
hard porcelain tub. He tried to arch his back up but Skinner held him down,
turning him on his side in the water. The big AD picked up a wash cloth and
gently running it over the younger man's face and body. When he was
satisfied that Mulder had cooled down somewhat he lifted him out of the tub,
applying vitamin E and aloe lotion to his red, blistered bottom before
tucking him back in bed.
"I swear, Mulder, if you ever get me in a mess like that again,
I'll . . . I'll . . ."
"Beat . . .me, sir?" Mulder choked out around the pillow he was hugging to
his chest.
"Yeah, maybe." He smiled as his agent's horrified eyes snapped open.
"Don't look so surprised, Mulder. That part with you over my knees. I've
wanted to do that for years."
Mulder eyed him for a couple of minutes before deciding the man couldn't be
serious before allowing himself to drift off to sleep.
Skinner sat quietly in a chair watching his troublesome agent sleep. "Yeah
Mulder, I liked giving you that spanking. I liked it a lot."
The End