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Atonement	By : Panymede Category: M through R > Peter Pan > AU/AR Views: 10480 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1

“Sixteen,” the boy grunted, anticipating the next strike. As predicable as the ticking of a clock, the blow landed squarely on his rump, sending stinging sparks up his spine. “Seventeen,” he dutifully counted, wishing the man would hurry up and finish. It hurt of course, and it would hurt a lot more by the time the goal of thirty-five was reached, but the pain was only part of the punishment. The pain was the part he preferred. The humiliation was unbearable.

“Eighteen,” he counted, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at the boys standing there watching. Slightly, Curly, John and Twins – all that remained of his Lost Boys. John was smiling, obviously amused with seeing his former leader being spanked, and Peter felt his humiliation deepen. Another smack sounded on his bottom and Peter winced. “Nineteen.” John saw him watching and stuck out his tongue. Peter tried to ignore his pain and turn his embarrassment into anger, but he couldn’t. John had every reason to hate him. He braced himself for the next strike, but it didn’t fall.

“Mr. Darling,” Hook’s voice sounded from above him. Peter didn’t bother to try to look up, he couldn’t crane his neck enough to see the man and with his arms bound he couldn’t prop himself up. “I sincerely hope you aren’t making that disgusting face at me.”

“No, sir,” John said quickly, “It was meant for him.”

Hook frowned at John. “Tell me, John, did you deliberately drop my lunch tray, knowing I’d punish Peter?” Hook looked down at the boy lying across his lap. “Tell me truthfully.”

John hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Yes, sir. He deserves to be punished. It’s his fault Wendy and Michael are…” he couldn’t finished the thought, his voice choking up on him. It had only been two weeks, and the wounds were still very raw.

“Dead,” Slightly finished for him. “Aye, them, Nibs and Tootles too.” The Twins looked at the two boys doubtfully, but neither one argued.

“Leave, all of you,” Hook ordered sternly. “Pan will get the rest of his licks, but I won’t grant you the pleasure of seeing it.” The pirate chuckled at the disappointed sighs as the five children left. When the door closed behind them he turned his attention back to Peter. “They really seem to hate you. It must hurt terribly.”

Peter tried to shrug, but the weight of Hook’s claw arm across his shoulders made it difficult. Having his hands bound tightly behind his back made it impossible. “Yes,” he answered lowly, adjusting his feet some to shift his body. Hook’s legs were beneath his chest and waist, and being bent over like this was uncomfortable, among other things.

Hook patted the boy’s back, still smiling. “Yes. Cherish that pain, Pan. It’s the only reason I’ve let you live. Now, where were we?”

“Nineteen,” Peter answered automatically. This was far from the first spanking Hook had given him and he knew the rules well. If he lied or remained silent, Hook would simply begin the punishment again. Hook’s palm was tough from a life at sea, and his arm was strong. He could do this all night. A resounding crack accompanied the blistering pain in Peter’s rear. “Twenty,” he gasped, the blow smarting even more after the brief reprieve.

“I knew they were angry at you, especially John,” Hook remarked, and at his next blow Peter counted twenty-one. “I never really considered they’d exploit your status as whipping-boy to get at you.” He stilled his hand and thought for a moment. “It’s rather entertaining that they’ve turned on you, but it’s also unacceptable. I suppose I’ll have to come up with another way to keep them in line, since threatening you is only encouraging them to misbehave. Shame, I rather enjoy these little sessions.”

“I don’t care,” Peter answered. “Just kill me and be done with it.” He jumped as another swat hit him unexpectedly. “Twenty-two,” he gasped, tears beginning to prick his eyes.

“I don’t blame them for wanting to see you suffer,” Hook mused, knowing his words only added to Peter’s torment. “If you hadn’t banished John for some trifle, you wouldn’t be here right now. Young Michael never would have gone after him and found that nasty viper instead. Your precious Wendy wouldn’t have gone mad from grief. Perhaps one day they’ll forgive you, once you’ve suffered enough in their eyes. Now do you see why I don’t go out of my way to torture you? It keeps them angry and resentful to see you cared for while they help crew my ship. And you suffer more from their anger than anything I could do to you. I don’t know why I thought making you suffer their punishments would keep them in line. Perhaps I should keep using you as their whipping-boy, but use you as a reward for their good behavior.” Hook nodded. “Yes, that would work beautifully.”

“Twenty-three,” Peter whispered as the spanking resumed. He let his mind drift, thinking back to his friends… his former friends, he corrected. It was true what Hook had said – it was all his fault. Peter didn’t even remember why he’d banished John, just that the boy had argued with him over something silly. Wendy and Michael had sided with their brother, and Michael had left to find his brother while Wendy stayed behind to argue with Peter.

They’d found Michael’s body the next day, and the bite mark on his leg provided proof that he’d been bitten by a snake. Wendy had turned on Peter, grieving, and accused him of letting Michael die. The rest was a blur; all he really understood was that she’d come at him with a sword and that he’d reacted to her attack on instinct.

Hook and his men had captured John and were escorting the boy back to their ship when they’d heard the commotion. Peter remembered holding Wendy’s body, blood on her lips and her chest. He remembered Hook pulling her out of his arms, remembered the way his boys had stared at him in horror. He remembered John screaming, and he remembered screaming with him.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget. How could he, when Hook kept the bloody sword as a trophy and had it mounted on the wall? How could he forget when he daily saw the anger and hate in the eyes of the other boys?

I killed them. I killed Wendy. He remembered her eyes, wide with pain and disbelief when he plunged his sword into her chest. John’s right, I deserve to be punished. I should be hurt like I hurt everyone else. He remembered Hook’s words and wondered, would they truly forgive him if he suffered? Could he ever forgive himself? He’d do anything to lift the awful guilt in his heart, to ease the pain that ravaged his soul. He’d do anything to atone, even die.

Hook frowned and stilled his hand at last, glaring at the boy in annoyance. Peter had gone silent at about twenty-five, and Hook had just administered lick number forty – five more licks than Peter was supposed to get. “Apparently I’m not hitting you hard enough, if you can lie there and daydream. Do you know what the count is?”

I deserve to be punished. Peter nodded his head and sighed. “One,” he answered quietly.

The captain raised his eyebrows at that. “Are you quite sure? I’m certain you’ve gotten more than just one.”

“One,” Peter repeated stoically, bracing himself.

“Ah,” Hook replied. “Well, since my memory seems to be off, what count are we going to?” Peter mumbled something in reply, and the man felt a tingle begin someplace that wasn’t his hand. “Say that again, boy.”

“As long as you want,” Peter said more loudly. He grunted as the spanking began again, and dutifully he counted: “Two.”

Hook continued, considering the boy’s motive for starting over. He also tried to ignore the growing knot in his gut. His concentration broke, however, when Pan called out something other than eight. “Did you say ‘harder’, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter moaned, his backside aching and burning.

Hook grabbed the boy’s shirt and pulled him upright to see him better. “What game are you playing, brat?” he growled. Peter’s eyes were red and shimmering with tears, his lips set in a tight line that illustrated his extreme discomfort. “Are you trying to mock me?”

“I deserve to be punished,” Peter answered, looking down in shame. “I want… I want you to hurt me… make up for what I’ve done.”

Hook smiled slowly, a sadistic joy flooding his body. “Are you seeking redemption through pain? Be careful of your answer, Pan, because I’m very good at administering pain. These childish spankings I’ve been giving you are nothing compared to what I can do to you.”

“I killed Wendy,” Peter explained, his voice cracking on the words. “I w-was stupid and got Michael killed… I stabbed Wendy! And the storm, when I was upset… the storm washed Nibs and Tootles overboard. It’s my fault we got caught and it’s my fault the storm came.”

Hook held up his claw, letting the candlelight dance off it and play upon the boy’s face. “And what of this? Do you regret this too?”

Peter stared at the hook in morbid fascination, wondering what it would feel like to die upon it. “Yes,” he answered, dragging his gaze away to stare into Hook’s eyes. “I’m sorry for everything. I’ve hurt too many people.”

The captain pulled the boy closer and gently dried his eyes. “I knew Wendy’s death broke you,” he muttered softly. “I didn’t realize just how completely broken you are.” It had shocked him to the core to find Peter clutching Wendy’s dead body, screaming hysterically. He’d told Peter the truth about why he’d chosen not to kill or torture the boy: he preferred to let the boy suffer his own guilt and grief. Hook considered the desperate agony in the boy’s eyes, and suddenly he was seized by the desire to learn just how far Peter was willing to go to atone for his many sins. A perverse anticipation filled him, possibilities he’d not let himself consider before were now calling to him. He spun the boy around and cut the ropes that bound his arms. “Promise me you’ll not escape, and promise that you’ll do everything I say, and I’ll help you find forgiveness.”

Peter turned back towards Hook, rubbing his aching wrists. “I won’t escape, and I’ll do anything you want.”

“Lovely,” Hook purred. “Take off your britches and resume the position.”

Peter frowned, feeling a slight apprehension at the order, but he obeyed. His shorts dropped to the floor and he kicked them away, then awkwardly bend over Hook’s lap again. The man pushed him down into place and Peter submitted, shivering. The lightly cool air of the cabin played across the hypersensitive skin of his buttocks, and he felt vulnerable even with his hands untied.

“We start over, but this time we only go to ten,” Hook told him, running his hand lightly over Peter’s smooth but heavily bruised backside. Hook hadn’t really realized that the cumulative effects of the many spanking sessions had done this much damage. No matter, though. If Peter truly wished to atone, if he truly intended to submit and suffer, then Hook’s plans for him were about to change dramatically. If Peter pleased him, he might indeed find Hook’s forgiveness. If Peter really pleased him, Hook would kill the other brats, wipe away all remembrances of Wendy and the others, and let the boy find redemption in forgetfulness.

But that would come later. For now, Peter was waiting to be punished. He slapped the less-bruised cheek hard and grinned when Peter cried out, the youth’s arms clutching at the man’s leg. The ringing sound of flesh on flesh was immensely satisfying. “One,” Hook purred, gently caressing the spot he’d struck. He heard Peter’s whimper and felt need rise within him. “I’ll show you pain, and I’ll show you that pain can bring its own pleasures and rewards.” He struck again, “Two.” Again he caressed the angry red area, soothing the skin and eliciting a soft moan from Peter. “But I do want you to tell me when I’m pushing you too far. I don’t want to destroy your desire for punishment by giving you too much at once.” And that was the crux of it. There was something delightfully delicious about Pan wanting this, and he intended to exploit it to the fullest. “Three.”

Peter cried out, the pain sharper than the monotonous spankings of earlier. But at the same time the pain felt… sweet, almost; a welcome distraction from the overwhelming pain in his heart. The gentle caresses that followed each or every other hit both relieved and horrified him. It affected something deep inside him, something he didn’t understand. Tears spilled from his eyes and he didn’t fight them anymore.

By the time Hook announced ten, Peter was weeping openly. He’d not wept since he’d killed Wendy – he’d screamed, yes, cried a little too, but he hadn’t truly grieved. Lying half-naked across Hook’s lap made him feel exposed, while the man’s tender touch, punctuated by agonizing strikes, made him feel powerless and small. Thus weakened, it was easy for his grief to finally break through and overwhelm him. It was a most welcome release.

When his cries subsided and he once more became aware of his surroundings, he found himself lying facedown on his little pallet. He jumped in surprise when something cold was smeared onto his rump, and his gasp was answered by a low chuckle. Hook gently spread the salve over the bruises and welts, and Peter felt his body relax as the ache subsided, replaced by delicious numbness. He’d hurt for so long now from the daily or twice daily spankings, and this unexpected consideration filled him with grateful calm. “What’s that?” he asked, trying to lift himself up onto his elbows.

Hook gently pushed him back down. “Lie still. Smee learned to make this balm from the Indians,” he explained, taking his time with his caresses. “It’s good for numbing things… I’ve found many uses for it. I want you to take a nap, Peter. I dare-say you’ve slept little since I caught you, and you’ll rest easier if you’re numbed somewhat.”

“Why?” Peter asked, turning his head in an effort to see the man. “Why try to make me feel better?”

“I’m going to take great pleasure in your atonement, Pan,” Hook answered truthfully. “You will pay in agony, boy, and you’ll pay in full. But I won’t have you broken before its done, and I won’t cripple you doing it. I’ll hurt you, you’ll heal, and I’ll hurt you again. But,” his fingers slipped into the boy’s cleft and lightly ran across his opening, eliciting a startled gasped from Peter. “There are things you can do to atone that needn’t be painful. Things we’ll both enjoy.”

“W- what… things?” Peter asked, his breath hitching as the fingers grazed the sensitive area.

“Later,” Hook murmured, removing his hand and pulling the sheet over Peter’s hips. “I’ll teach you later, when that lovely bottom of yours isn’t so tender. Rest for now.” He left the boy, going to sit in a chair where he could watch Peter. Sooner than he’d have thought, the boy slept deeply, his face pinching as he slid into nightmares.

Hook contemplated Peter, rather astonished by the unexpected turn of events. He remembered how the boy had willingly submitted to his punishment. And when Peter had asked for more, practically begging Hook to hurt him, his glee had known no bounds. He considered the things he could do to a willing, penitent Pan, and his blood thrilled at the prospect. He smiled wickedly at the sleeping boy. “Yes, rest well, Peter. You have much to atone for and I am not a very forgiving man. I don’t think John Darling will forgive you soon, either. I wonder what he’d be willing to do to gain his measure of revenge. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
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Atonement