caillech2000@yahoo.com

This story contains corporal punishment.

~*~*~

Blair closed the textbook on Hopi rituals and sighed. He knew he would be a much better guide to his new sentinel if he could just go on a vision quest. Grandfather Franklin had told him stories about his visions and Blair knew his own visions would at least equal his. Hadn’t he already seen a blue jungle after he’d hit his head? But there was no way Jim was going to let him ingest peyote; Jim had been very clear on that point. 

However, Jim was not going to be back in Cascade for another day. Blair had come back on the bus with his group and Jim was supposed to finish his business in Arizona and meet Blair at the University tomorrow night. That gave Blair tonight and tomorrow to have a vision quest. After all, what Jim didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or hurt Blair.

He fidgeted in his chair, still feeling the effects of that paddle.

"Hey, Sandburg."

Blair was startled out of his reverie and looked up to see who’d addressed him.

It was Nelson McKinnon, an upper classman who had gone on the Hopi trip with him. He wasn’t exactly a serious scholar. As far as Blair could tell, Nelson’s main interest in anthropology seemed to be looking for new and exotic ways to get high.

"Hey Mick."

Nelson plopped down on a chair across from Blair and leaned over the table on his forearms.

"Stoddard has you unpacking the artifacts from the trip, right?" 

"That’s right." There were four crates for Blair to unpack and sort through. "I have to get everything cataloged for the exhibition next month." 

"Listen." Nelson lowered his voice. "I added a few things to one of the crates. Let me know if you find them, OK?" 

"You smuggled drugs in the Rainier Anthropology crates?!"  Blair’s eyebrows shot up into his curls.

"Sssh! Keep it down!" Nelson glanced around but no one was looking in their direction. "Nothing illegal," he mumbled. "Just some plants indigenous to the area, you know, Mormon tea, Jimson weed, things like that." 

"Indigenous plants," Blair repeated. A thought struck him. "Any peyote?" 

"Blair! You know that isn’t legal outside the reservation," Nelson said virtuously. Then he looked closer at Blair and added cautiously, "You’re not interested in peyote, are you?" 

"I really want to try a vision quest," Blair admitted. "One of the shamans was telling me all about it." 

 "Well," Nelson said slowly, "Some buttons might have slipped in. Just by accident, of course." 

Blair’s eyes widened. This had to be foreordained. It was meant to be; it was too much of a coincidence. And who was he to go against the fates? He looked around the library, thinking it odd he was hearing music. He shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the feeling, assuming the flute players must be practicing next door again. 

Blair’s voice was low and conspiratorial as he made up his mind. "Meet me tomorrow after lunch in the museum basement. We can look through all the crates then." 

~*~*~

The next afternoon, Nelson showed up as promised, bringing along a couple of six-packs to help them in their labors.

Blair popped the top on his second and took a long swig. Unpacking was thirsty business. Excelsior and shavings were strewn everywhere. He had gotten the artifacts from two of the crates cataloged and they were halfway through the third. 

"This looks like it," said Nelson, who was half buried in the crate. He stood up, pieces of shaving stuck in his stringy brown hair. He had a bulky pouch in his hand. 

"Bring it over here," said Blair, pushing feathered bags aside to make room. Nelson put the large sack on the middle of the table and carefully unwound the ties. He opened the bag and spilled its contents out. There were bundles of dried grass, some green fibrous plants and other assorted herbs. A smaller package caught Blair’s eye. He grabbed it and unwrapped it. Four small dried brown pellets lay in his hand. 

"Is this it?" Blair asked, as he carefully fingered the pellets.

"I think so," said Nelson doubtfully. He furrowed his brows as he examined the pellets more closely. "Yeah, it must be. It’s the only thing in there that looks like cactus." 

"OK," said Blair stoutly. He was beginning to have second thoughts but would never let Nelson know that. It was hard enough being so much younger than everybody else; he wasn’t going to be known as a wimp, too. "So, how do we do this?" 

"Uh, we? Uh, somebody needs to stay straight, don’t you think? Just in case of a bad trip or something." No way was Nelson going to take that stuff. It might even actually be peyote. "I’ll stand for you and watch your back." 

Blair was touched. "Aw, man, that’s great, thanks." He looked around the room and spied the dusty threadbare couch by the wall. He shifted boxes off it and sat down, "How do I do this?" 

"I don’t know, man, I’ve never used the stuff. I guess you just chew and swallow." 

Blair looked at the pellets and gulped shakily. He was a little nervous. Trying a vision quest with Grandfather Franklin helping him would have been preferable to ingesting unknown substances in the museum basement with Nelson.

Nelson failed elementary Anthropology the first two times.  

Blair straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t responsible for just himself anymore; he had other obligations now. If he was going to be a guide for Jim he had to be the best he could be. If that meant taking risks with his heath and his sanity, so be it.

Damn, don’t those flute players ever take a break? 

~*~*~
 
Jim Ellison whistled as he ran up the steps to the Rainier Anthropology Museum. He had made good time and gotten back to Cascade three hours sooner than he’d expected. He was eager to see Blair again, even though they’d only been separated for two days. He was exhilarated at how much better he could see and hear and wanted to get started on honing his senses and learning control as soon as possible.

And he just missed the annoying little scamp. 

Jim reached for the handle to the large door of the museum and paused, cocking his head. What was that twittering? Hadn’t he heard something like it in Arizona? Shaking his head in bemusement, he opened the door and went in. 

~*~*~

Blair sat on the couch in the lotus position, his eyes closed and his hands resting palms up on his thighs. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself and move closer to a trance state with each breath. Finally, satisfied he was as centered as he was going to get, he opened his eyes. 

"Hand me the buttons." 

Nelson rubbed his nose and moved closer to Blair. "Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"C’mon, Nelson, you’re going to ruin my meditation. Just give me the damn buttons, OK?" 

Nelson shrugged and handed him the plants. Blair popped one in his mouth. He chewed furiously for several minutes, gagged a little, and then swallowed the mass. He closed his eyes again and leaned back. 

At first nothing happened. Blair allowed himself to relax more, slipping further into his meditative state. A few more moments elapsed. Unexpected warmth flooded his body and his eyes opened sluggishly, revealing a shimmering desert plateau.

He saw Grandfather Franklin dancing with a bent figure, whose curls were flying in the wind. At first Blair thought Grandfather was dancing with him but then realized the figure was Kokopilua, dancing with flute in hand. Grandfather smiled and winked at him and danced off into the sun. The light blinded Blair and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he was in the blue jungle.

He smiled languidly and watched the scene before him through half-lidded eyes

He saw a wolf pup, digging after something in the dirt. The small furry creature dug and dug, whining, until he unearthed an object. He snuffled at it and shook it. He then picked it up carefully and trotted off. Suddenly a dark, catlike figure came out of nowhere, barreling into the cub and knocking him flat. The panther pinned the pup and sniffed him all over, growling. 

Just then, Jim burst into the room, taking in everything at a glance. His guide sat on a dirty couch, leaning to one side, his eyelids fluttering. A skinny, grubby looking young man cowered against the opposite wall. "What the hell is going on here?" Jim demanded.

At Jim’s shout, Blair opened bleary eyes.

"Oh, hi, Jim," he said happily. "It’s so cool that you’re on my spirit walk too. Did you see the panther?" 

Jim took a breath. The air in the stuffy room reeked of beer and something else. What was that smell?  

"Just what do you think you’re doing, Junior?" he asked in a tone that suggested Blair better come forth with the truth, the whole truth and nothing else if he knew what was good for him. 

"Spirit walk, Jim. You remember, the thing you wouldn’t let me do with grandfather in Arizona? C’mon, you’re walking the blue jungle with me, man, you should know." 

Jim started to demand answers and demand them now when the room flickered and took on a blue tinge. Suddenly he was in the blue jungle, looking at a panther and a wolf pup. The panther suddenly morphed into Jim, dressed in camouflage gear. He bent down and picked up the wolf cub by the scruff of his neck. 

"You need to take better care of you guide, sentinel," the camou-Jim said. "Your cub is wandering into danger. Take care he doesn’t become lost because of your neglect." He shook the squirming cub and threw it at Jim. The jungle disappeared and he was back in the basement.

"I told him not to do it." The skinny kid was sniveling. "It wasn’t my fault. I told him it was too dangerous. Don’t blame me, man. I didn’t even know it was peyote." 

"Peyote? Blair has taken peyote?!" Jim strode forward; catching up his guide in a tight embrace, ready to drag him to the nearest stomach pump. That odd smell became stronger as he clutched Blair to him. He sniffed the kid’s mouth and then shook him.

Blair tried to sober up fast, suddenly realizing he was not safely in the spirit world but in the here and now.

And here and now was a very irate sentinel.

Blair felt wobbly and light headed as the combined effects of beer, partially digested plant matter and blue tinged visions collided with the grim look on Jim’s face.

Blair’s eyes widened as he remembered the promise Jim had made him the last time he’d put himself in danger. He put both his hands up. 

"Easy, Jim, I’m OK, I swear. I only ate one." 

Jim shook Blair again, appalled at his guide’s willingness to throw himself into life threatening situations, and determined to correct this tendency before the day was out.

Jim kept one hand on Blair’s upper arm, holding the boy in a firm grip, as he turned his attention to Nelson. He pointed an unwavering finger at him and assumed his best cop-voice.

"I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’ve got to the count of three to haul your ass out of my sight or I’ll haul it downtown and book you for contributing to the delinquency of a minor."

Nelson opened his mouth to offer a token protest, but it wasn’t his voice that rang out across the room.

"One."

Nelson gave Blair a half-hearted, sympathetic look before turning tail and scurrying out the door.

Jim turned his attention back to Blair.

"Where’s the rest of it?" he demanded. Blair opened his hand and showed him three small nubbins.  

Keeping a firm grip on his guide Jim looked at the plants. He picked one up and sniffed at it carefully. Frowning, he bit off a tiny piece. 

"Jim!" Blair said, aghast. "Stop that! You don’t know what that will do to your senses!" 

Jim chewed thoughtfully and looked at Blair. "So, Chief," he said. "As I understand it, you deliberately disobeyed me. The first chance you got you went behind my back and not only drank beer but tried to use dangerous and illegal substances in an effort to perform a spirit walk I had already clearly forbidden you to do. Do I have that about right?" 

Blair squirmed but couldn’t free himself from Jim’s implacable grip. "Well, when you put it like that," he said weakly. 

"We’re going to have a long, extremely thorough discussion on just exactly what is acceptable for you to do and what is not. I only have one thing to say at this point; the only thing that has saved you from a trip to the emergency room and possibly the necessity of standing for the rest of your life is the fact this peyote you ate is in fact, sassafras root."

"Sassafras root?" Blair stopped his squirming long enough to give Jim a disbelieving look. "But, I saw the blue jungle, and a wolf pup, and a panther who turned into you." Blair scrunched his eyes in concentration, recalling the details of his vision. "He was talking, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying."

"That’s because he was talking to me, kiddo. And I got the message loud and clear."

Blair was so fixated on Jim’s comment he momentarily forgot he was not exactly in his sentinel’s good graces.

"You saw it too? We shared a vision? That is so cool, man!"

Jim rolled his eyes at the youngster’s unbridled enthusiasm even in the face of the older man’s wrath. He brought an abrupt halt to Blair’s questions by giving his guide a hard shake.

"We’ll discuss it later, Chief. Much later."

Jim surveyed the small artifact room and the scattered objects littering the floor and table and quickly surmised how Blair had come into possession of the illicit ‘peyote’. He brought himself nose to nose with his recalcitrant guide.

"Pack it up, we’re leaving," Jim ordered.

"But, Jim, I have to…" Blair immediately began to protest.

Jim spun Blair in a quick about-face and landed six swats to the kid’s backside before finally releasing his hold, turning the youngster loose.

"One."

"Ow! Aw, Jim, don’t count, man," Blair whined.

"Two."

"All right, all right! I’m packing up." Blair hurriedly repacked the items he hadn’t yet catalogued and did a cursory clean up of the mess he and Nelson had made.

Jim stood in the doorway, arms crossed, as he supervised the activity.

Blair hesitated as he came upon the rest of Nelson’s stash. His eyes darted from the table to Jim and back to the scattered plants and herbs. He hastily stuffed everything back into the bag and nonchalantly set it aside.

"Hand it over, kiddo." Jim raised one eyebrow and held out a hand.

Blair pulled a face and trudged over to Jim. Sighing dramatically, he relinquished the contraband reluctantly as he thought about how Nelson would take the news. He scanned the room, making sure none of the artifacts had been overlooked before grabbing his backpack.

Jim nodded in approval at the clean up and then cocked his head toward the door, indicating it was time to leave.

Blair scooted sideways past Jim and into the hall, carefully keeping his butt out of harm’s way. Jim followed and watched silently as Blair locked up.

"Let’s go." Jim motioned for Blair to precede him down the hall.

Soft, tranquil strains of a flute floated through the air as sentinel and guide left the building and headed toward Jim’s truck.

~*~*~

The ride from Rainier was made in uneasy silence, the only break being when Jim inquired where they could pick up Blair’s belongings. After a quick detour to the dorms to retrieve Blair’s stuff, they arrived at 852 Prospect.

Jim ushered Blair up the stairs and into the loft, leaving all but Blair’s backpack and Jim’s duffel in the truck to be brought up later.

Jim gave Blair a quick, mostly non-verbal tour of the loft, then grabbed his bag and headed up to his bedroom.

Blair stood in the center of the loft, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he scanned his new home.

Two minutes later, Jim jogged back down the stairs. Blair’s eyes widened as he saw what Jim held in his right hand.

Jim walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, never taking his eyes off Blair.

"Come here." Jim crooked his finger in Blair’s direction and waited.

Blair froze. He looked to the front door, judging his chances of escape. He looked back at Jim and realized he’d never make it just as Jim spoke again.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way, kiddo. Your choice."

Blair went weak in the knees and his legs felt rubbery as he found himself shuffling across the short expanse. He came to a halt next to Jim, nervously running his sweaty palms up and down his thighs.

"Do you remember what I said would happen if it was necessary to do this again?" Jim’s voice was calm yet stern as he looked at Blair.

The curly head began nodding and Blair blinked back the tears that were forming.

"Jeans down, kiddo."

Blair hitched a nervous breath, and shakily complied. He pushed his jeans to his knees and before he had time to think any further about what was about to happen, he found himself face down over Jim’s lap.

"Tell me why you’re going to be spanked, Blair."

"Wh-what?" Blair answered.

"I want to be sure you understand why I’m going to spank you. Tell me." Jim rested the small paddle on Blair’s behind and waited.

Blair wiggled uncomfortably, testing his freedom.

Jim held him securely in place, one large hand placed firmly in the small of Blair’s back.

Blair sighed; he’d made his decision to go against Jim’s orders knowing full well what would happen if Jim caught him. He’d done it anyway, because he’d figured Jim would never find out.

"I-I disobeyed you. I thought you’d never find out, so I went behind your back and took what I thought was peyote."

"I won’t tolerate you deliberately disobeying me, especially when it comes to your safety or well-being. I can’t believe you took something like that, particularly not knowing what it was for sure. Not very smart, Einstein. If your brain doesn’t remember to make safe decisions I’m going to make sure your butt does."

Blair blushed as he felt Jim tug his boxers down, baring his backside. He jumped and released a startled hiss as the first smack landed.

Jim concentrated on his task. He methodically paddled Blair, swatting first one cheek, then the other, followed by several smacks to the center of the now wiggling bottom.

Blair had thought to endure his punishment in stoic silence, but quickly changed his mind as the sting caused by the paddle rapidly grew. He couldn’t believe how much more that damn paddle hurt without the thin layer of cushioning his pants had provided.

"Ouch! Damn! Jim, please! Ouch! Ow! Ahhh! Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

Determined to follow through with his commitment to correct Blair’s tendency to place himself in dangerous situations, especially when expressly forbidden by him, Jim continued the paddling.

Blair sniffled and cried; he hissed and wiggled. He scrunched his eyes as tears began to flow and his hand flew back to try to shield his butt from the stinging blows.

Jim simply stopped the spanking momentarily and spoke calmly.

"Move your hand, Chief. We’re almost through here."

Blair hesitated then slowly withdrew his hand.

Jim shifted his leg slightly, tipping Blair’s butt a little higher and he renewed his assault, now concentrating on the tender flesh where buttocks and thighs met. He continued paddling until the entire surface of Blair’s bottom was a warm, deep pink.

Blair wiggled in earnest now and as soon as Jim finished and relaxed his hold, Blair launched himself up. He yanked his boxers and jeans up, yelping a little as the fabric brushed across his throbbing butt. He didn’t notice Jim stand up until he felt the older man pull him into a secure hug. He squirmed a little and made a half-hearted attempt to free himself before giving in to the comfort Jim offered.

They stood together for a while. Jim rubbed Blair’s back and wondered how often he would need to repeat this lesson as Blair wondered how he could have forgotten what Jim’s ‘lessons’ felt like. Blair rested his head on Jim’s chest and vowed to himself he’d never ever give Jim a reason to use that damn paddle again. Jim ruffled the kid’s hair and felt certain he had made an impression on his guide and it would be a long time before Blair did anything so foolish and dangerous again.

Blair snuffled and ran his sleeve under his nose. He couldn’t believe he’d gone through all this and it wasn’t even peyote. On the other hand, he did achieve a spirit walk. He wondered if drinking a root beer would work as well as chewing sassafras. It would certainly taste better. He wondered if different teas would cause him to see different locations. Maybe he could set up some tests.

"All right, kiddo," said Jim at last. "Let’s get you moved in and then get some supper. We can go over some house rules after that."

"House rules?" Blair repeated absently, as he gingerly checked his butt. "Sure, sounds good." How bad could a few house rules be? "So, Jim, what exactly did that panther guy say to you? The one in the blue jungle, I mean."

"You really want to know, Chief?" Jim caught him in a headlock and messed up his hair. "He said to keep this puppy on a very short leash."

End