The First Order had procedures for punishing every infraction, from simple things like tardiness (a warning first, then demerits should the behavior continue) all the way up to outright treason (public beheading by laser ax). It was a good system, and it worked well, and for quite some time Dopheld Mitaka believed it was flawless. It was only when he himself violated the code of conduct—his first-ever infraction—that he discovered a secret, secondary system of punishment.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” General Armitage Hux said severely, and Doph scrambled to obey, taking the few short steps inside and stopping to stand at attention. He’d been summoned to the general’s private quarters—not his office—and he didn’t know why. Was Hux going to reprimand him privately? He’d known he shouldn’t be holding Thanisson’s hand while in uniform, it had just happened…
“This is the first incident of misconduct in your entire service history,” General Hux said once the door had closed and sealed itself, locking them in Hux’s quarters alone. “As such, I felt placing a mark on your record would be excessive. You are a fine officer, Lt. Mitaka, and so long as it never happens again, I see no reason to follow official procedure in this case.”
Doph drew in a slow breath and let it out just as slowly. It seemed strange for General Hux to flout regulations, but it was a relief to know that his record would remain unblemished. “It won’t happen again, sir,” he said.
“However,” the general continued, his face stern, “a verbal warning isn’t sufficient. It’s important that you remember this lesson, that you truly take it to heart. As your commander it is my duty to see to it that the message sinks in.”
Hux paused, and Doph ventured, “Sir?”
“I don’t want to do this,” said General Hux. “I certainly take no pleasure in it. You’ve forced my hand. So take it like a good soldier, Lieutenant, and then we can both move past it.” Hux turned toward the hatchway leading from the main living area to the bedroom. “With me.”
Terror rose up from Doph’s chest to his throat, threatening to choke him. He fell into step behind the general and followed him through the hatch.
Hux’s bedroom was as austere as his sitting room, with little in the way of personal decorations. The bed was neatly made and there was an antique pair of quadnocs on the nightstand.
“Take your position, Lieutenant,” General Hux said. “On your knees facing the bed. Lean your chest over the mattress and fold your hands behind your head.”
Years of training saved Doph; he was moving to comply even as his brain screamed at him that this was wrong, this was not normal, this had nothing to do with regulations. Doph settled himself over the bed. It was low enough that his knees did indeed touch the durasteel floor, providing enough support to hold him in place. As he wove his fingers together at the back of his head, Doph tried not to think about the way his ass was now on display.
“This will all be over soon,” General Hux said. There was a soft sound like fabric brushing against skin, and then Hux sat down on the bed next to Doph. “Just remember why you’re here, and henceforth follow regulations when you’re in uniform.”
“Yes, sir,” Doph said—and suddenly there came a hard, stinging slap to his left ass cheek.
The blow barely registered before it happened again, on the right side this time. Then another to the left. Another to the right. One right in the middle.
General Hux was spanking him. With his bare hand.
Doph let out a belated, muffled cry, pressing his face into General Hux’s blanket. “Hold yourself together, Lieutenant,” Hux said, continuing to rain blows down upon Doph’s ass. He didn’t sound affected by what was happening at all, not even physically tired.
Meanwhile, Doph’s ass was on fire, stinging with every slap. His eyes filled with tears, and he clenched them shut, willing himself not to make another sound.
He didn’t know how long it lasted. All he knew was that one moment, he was still being struck, and the next he wasn’t. The bed shifted as General Hux rose to his feet, and Doph opened his eyes.
“Come now, on your feet,” Hux said, and Doph pushed himself up, groaning. He swiped at his eyes and stood at attention. General Hux’s keen eyes swept over him—Doph could swear a muscle twitched in his cheek, his lips curving into a brief frown—and then Hux said, “Dismissed.”
It was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. He never wanted it to happen again. He would always remember not to hold Thanisson’s hand while in uniform.
Doph let out a shuddery sigh as he made his way back to his own quarters, wincing with every step, wondering if he’d even be able to sit down. General Hux’s methods were unorthodox, but he had to admit they were effective.
After that incident, Doph started to pay closer attention to his fellow officers. Every now and then someone would walk a little differently, or stand when they would normally sit, and he knew that General Hux’s private punishments were still going on.
He didn’t tell a soul. How could he? He could barely think of the incident without wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment. He was sure the others who’d been reprimanded in this way, taken into General Hux’s bedroom and spanked, felt the same way he did. No one would want to talk about such a thing.
Months passed. Doph comported himself in his typical exemplary fashion and earned no more punishments, regulation or otherwise. (He and Thanisson progressed from handholding to kissing, but only in the privacy of their own quarters.) He was still paying attention to whether or not his fellow officers had been recently spanked, but it was less pressing of an issue as the days and weeks went on, so it was quite some time before he suddenly realized that it didn’t seem to be happening anymore at all.
“Huh,” he said out loud one night as he and Thanisson sat watching holos on Thanisson’s couch.
“What is it?” Thanisson asked, his thumb boldly rubbing back and forth along Doph’s where their fingers were interlaced.
“Oh.” Doph blinked, startled. He squeezed Thanisson’s hand. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”
“Come on,” Thanisson said. “You can tell me, can’t you?”
It was so difficult to resist those pretty brown eyes. Doph decided to tell a half-truth. “Well. I found something out a few months ago.” He explained about the secondary, secret system of justice administered by General Hux, without mentioning that he himself had been involved.
“What?” Thanisson said. “Really?”
“Yes,” Doph said. “And after I found out, I started noticing when people would…walk funny, or not want to sit down, and I figured they had been…punished.”
Thanisson looked away guiltily. “Did you see me doing that?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“You?” Doph gasped. “No!”
“Oh, gee,” Thanisson huffed, pulling his hand away and hugging his elbows.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Doph said quickly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s happened to a lot of people. Actually…” Now that he knew it had happened to Thanisson too, there was no point in hiding. “Me too,” he said.
“You’re just trying to be nice,” Thanisson said, looking utterly mortified.
“It’s true,” Doph said. “It was—it was because we held hands in uniform. General Hux said he didn’t want to put a mark on my flawless record.”
Thanisson looked back up at him. “Me, too,” he said. He shuddered. “I’d almost rather he’d just given me a demerit or something.”
“Yeah,” Doph said fervently. “It was so…yeah.”
They held each other for a time, and then Doph remembered his revelation. “I don’t think he’s doing it anymore, though. I haven’t seen anyone looking like…that, in a long time. At least a few weeks.”
“Huh,” Thanisson said. He nuzzled his face against Doph’s neck, and that felt very nice. “Well, good. If he’s stopped, that’s good.”
“I wonder why he stopped, though,” Doph said. “Has no one broken a regulation in all this time?”
Thanisson sighed. “Honestly, I don’t care if that mystery ever gets solved.”
Several decks away, a very large, very muscular, and very naked man sat on his knees in the middle of General Hux’s sitting room, arms bound behind his back. His pale skin was mottled with scars and purple bruises, and he leered up at Hux, defiant, cock hanging heavy and full between his legs.
“You do this on purpose,” General Hux said, stalking in a circle around the kneeling man, tapping the riding crop in his right hand into the palm of his left. “You wilfully defy me because you enjoy being punished. You’re a slut for it.”
The man glared at him, but his cock bobbed up, tip shining. Hux laughed and prodded it with the crop. “Look at yourself. You can’t lie to me, Kylo Ren.” He bent at the waist, used the crop to force Ren’s chin up, and kissed him hard on the mouth. You’re perfect, he thought but didn’t say, and Ren grinned into the kiss.
The Unsolved Mystery of the Vigilante Spankings
