Crime and Punishment

Author’s Note: All right. Head’s up, everyone, this story involves a minor in a sexual situation…a very young minor (6 year old Monty Petrelli), at that, with his dad (Nathan Petrelli). This is a subject that would offend anyone. Except this is a fictional story and you’ve been warned. No real children were harmed in the making of this story…so, if you still want to flame me after reading this…so be it I guess.


Monty Petrelli stared, blue eyes wide in his face, at his father who – still wearing his normal work suit – paced back and forth in front of him. The silence seemed never-ending. He waited for his father to break it, silently prayed for him to…but he didn’t. He just kept pacing until finally the young boy couldn’t take it anymore. In a quivering voice, he whispered, “Dad?”

“Yes, Monty.” came the curt reply.

He could still hear the sound of breaking glass in his ears. Still see his mama’s vase falling from its stand, crashing to the floor. Breaking to pieces! …While he and his older brother Simon stood frozen in the act of a play fight.

He’d wished then that he was a super hero, like in the comic books Simon sometimes read, or the movies he saw. If he was a super hero he could have stopped it from happening – could have used lightning quick speed to catch it before it could hit the floor; or something like that. But super heroes weren’t real.

This was.

Right now Simon was standing outside in the hall, waiting for his turn to be spoken to by their father, and he thought that that must be pretty miserable too, but he also thought it wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be the one to face it first? Whatever it was…he still wasn’t sure…since being called into the study, not a word had been spoken. “I’m in trouble…right…?”

“I don’t know. It would help -,” Nathan Petrelli said, stopping in his movements long enough to look at his son; “- if you would tell me who broke the vase in the first place.”

The brown haired boy was silent for several seconds, peering up at the older man, shivering in his T-shirt and jeans. But it wasn’t cold or anything. He was just scared. “I – can’t.” he mumbled, hands disappearing behind his back, the boy twisting them together nervously.

“Well, then I can’t know who’s in trouble, can I?”

“No.”

“… – Which means you’re both in trouble.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Come here, Monty.” His dad’s voice was as warm and gentle as always but he moved his hand at the last second, gesturing to the desk.

Monty didn’t want to – he knew he was in trouble, now. A part of him wanted to run – would have run! – …if he didn’t know he would be caught, eventually. It was a lesson the Petrelli brothers knew well; criminals could try to escape, they could even manage it, but they always got caught in the end.

Fighting the sob that tried to rise in his throat he did what he was told, walking over to face the overlarge desk. He opened his mouth, to ask what to do. But his silent question was answered in the form of a large hand against the back of his neck. It pressed against him and he could only follow its direction, ‘til he felt his chest fall against the surface of the desk.

Meanwhile, an unseen smile was flashed, Nathan looking down approvingly at his youngest. “Stretch your arms out.” the words were spoken softly, but it was an order. And the older man was pleased to see it followed immediately. Those small, pale limbs seeming to reach out, as the palms of tiny hands found and pressed flat against the polished oak.

Discipline wasn’t something often administered in the Petrelli house – simply because he was so busy with work. Heidi certainly didn’t have the heart for it, even before the accident. Plus, the boys were good. But when this sort of thing happened, and Dad was home…they knew well enough what was expected of them.

He didn’t even have to give the next order if he didn’t want to. Monty would have done it himself. But he enjoyed this part so much, and it had been long enough that he chose to. Having released his hold on his nape, Nathan’s hands were now free to play out along his son’s clothed back. …Which they did, touching the fabric…the warm skin beneath…before starting to push the material up, and away.

Monty bit back the noise that tried to escape him. But there was no stopping the shakes. He could feel the air of the room against his back, could feel his father’s hands on him…petting him…he hated that almost more than anything. “Daddy,” he said in a sudden rush. “If you’re mad, why don’t you act like it?”

The question caught him by surprise. There was a pause. Nathan’s hand had stopped its rubbings, resting now against the small of Monty’s back. “…Because,” he murmured smoothly, the answer occurring to him. “I love you. I love you both, so much. So Daddy restrains himself.” His touch shifted. It was suddenly the curve of his son’s ass the hand rested against. “Daddy holds himself back…so he talks to you calmly, just like this…and he smiles, and he tries not to lose his temper…because he…because I don’t want to hurt you more than is necessary. Does that make sense to you?”

Not really. Monty squirmed slightly, legs hanging over the side of the desk, sneakers just barely on the ground anymore. “I guess.” he mumbled uncomfortably.

“Good.” Nathan chuckled, reaching around Monty’s slender body to unbutton and unzip his pants. It was done quickly and efficiently; in no time, the denim was pulled back, Spiderman underwear revealed. “I would hate for you not to understand.”

His fingers slipped past the bright red waistband. It was elastic, very easy to get by…

Monty was a nervous wreck; his father was stripping him slowly. He wasn’t sure why he took so long to do it – ‘this is scary enough, Daddy!’ he desperately wanted to tell him – but he was a good boy, and so he didn’t say a word. Just lowered his head, cheeks coloring up when he felt his underpants slide down his legs, pool around his ankles. He couldn’t help it. He looked up, and over his shoulder…

…Right in time to see his dad unbuckling his slacks. Nathan raised an eyebrow, meeting that wide eyed stare with a simple gaze. “This wouldn’t be happening if you were a little more careful,” he reminded him, finally managing to pull the belt free. He felt along the length of leather – pulling it taut between his hands – while he regarded the adorable sight that was his son’s ass, upturned and exposed.

He smirked, bringing the belt down to drag it lightly along the child’s back. Was it wrong, to accept this sort of thing as exciting? To find pleasure in terrifying his son…he exhaled slowly. “The punishment…” Nathan trailed off, expectantly.

Tears had started to roll down his cheeks while he fought the urge to get up and turn around. He didn’t want to be hit! But he knew he had to take it, or it would be worse…so he gulped, audibly, and ducked his head again. Hearing his father’s words, and knowing he was supposed to answer, he whispered, “…to fit the crime.”

The belt was pulled back and brought swiftly down. He measured the force of it carefully. …There was a sharp ‘snap!’, it was the sound of leather meeting flesh, and it sounded a whole lot worse than it actually was. Lowering his head, he was pleased to see the creamy hue of his son’s backside interrupted by a brilliant streak of pink.

And Monty was gasping, his hands darting up to grab at the desk’s edge. “Mn!” the cry was brief, but loud. He couldn’t help it. Nothing could ever make him ready for the flash of pain that was his daddy’s belt coming down on him. But that was only the first stroke. There was more, always was. Just as he thought so, the belt slapped against him again, and again, and again. Different places, so he was always caught off guard, he thought.

But in reality Nathan didn’t touch on the same place because he didn’t want it to leave any lasting marks…was always meticulous, to that degree. He very rarely left any evidence that he and his boys had these sessions at all.

Monty had been reduced to a sobbing, gasping, choking mess. His face was bright red and soaked with tears. He stared straight ahead – trying to focus on the wood paneled wall, and not on quickly building heat that was his tiny ass getting what Simon had started to call the ‘all over treatment’. “D-Dad…” he stammered after a while of it.

“Almost,” Nathan snapped in response. While he spanked the boy, his free hand had disappeared quite smoothly into the confines of his own pants. Driving it carelessly past the waistband of black briefs, his fingers sought out and wrapped around the root of his cock. It was already hard – like steel underneath a covering of warm flesh. Was it wrong? That he got this excited. It probably was. He was probably going to hell, but…at the moment, he chose not to think about that. And just so Monty wouldn’t get confused or try to look over (can’t let him see, can’t let him see) he hit him again, the belt connecting with the tender flesh of his boy’s inner thigh. And damn that had been a mistake. Usually, he didn’t spank either of his sons anywhere but on their ass.

Still, the resulting whimper was interesting enough…

“I’m sorry,” Monty gasped, forcing the words out while he screwed his eyes shut in anticipation for the next one. That had really hurt! “I’m sorry Daddy,” he exclaimed. “We didn’t mean to!”

He felt his erection pulse in his hand. Those words having an amazing affect on him. “I’m sure you didn’t.” he said, adrenaline going through him, daring him to do something else. …Something – different. He pondered his next course of action for all of three seconds before his mind was set.

“Eyes on the wall Monty.” he instructed, his smooth voice leaving little room for argument. Quickly, the politician pulled his slacks back. And his arousal jutted immediately out. Fully engorged, it hovered ominously over the unaware child’s rear end, dwarfing it in size.

“Hnn…” His fingers played out against the swollen head, finding and gathering pre cum on his tips. He reached out, and put that hand against Monty…

“Daddy?” Monty choked out between his sobs. He was nearly hyperventilating, fighting to catch his breath…and now he was confused…feeling the press of fingers and something wet getting rubbed into his searing skin. “What’s that?”

“Nothing, Mont. Eyes on the wall…” The older man repeated.


Author’s Note: …What? Did he just end the story right in the middle of a chapter? xD Damn right she did. Sorry about that, but I want to see how this story is received. If all I get a million flames obviously I won’t want to carry it on and upset anyone any further. But if I get at least one good review, I’ll go ahead and type up some more. Though if I do that be aware that the rest of this unfinished chapter is going to make the beginning of it look like sunshine and daisies.

It will contain rape (full on sex, folks; Nate’s frustrated cause he’s not getting any from his wife. Plus he’s finding out that he’s a closet pedo. Don’t think he’s going to stop here…), abuse, emotional manipulation, possibly bdsm, and more. I might bring Simon into the story, too. Not sure yet. Anyway! Thanks for reading.