Date: Sun, 4 Jan 2015 04:04:11 +1100
From: Aaron Jeffries <aaronbjeffries@gmail.com>
Subject: The Imperial Bureau - Part 1

The following story is a work of fiction. No resemblance to individuals
living or dead is intended or implied.

The story is free for anyone to read, enjoy and share in this text form.
ANY other use including derivative works is strictly prohibited and subject
to license. Please contact the author for details.

----

Author: Aaron Jeffries (aaronbjeffries@gmail.com)



The Imperial Bureau

Part 1


Junior Proctor Aaron B Jeffries looked up from his notepad and surveyed the
view outside. For miles the farmlands stretched before him. In the distance
he could see the mountains, tipped with the snow which would, in a few
short weeks, cover the ground he was flying over below. The landscape was
pretty, but he was thankful he wouldn't be around when the cold harsh
winter took over the state. Just ahead he fancied he could see the town he
had set the autopilot for, and a quick glance at the instrument panel
confirmed he was only 3 minutes out. In fact, yes, he could now feel the
craft slowing down as the autopilot prepared to bring him in to land. His
Visi popped up a reminder that it had, at just that moment, sent an
automated message to the school principal advising him of Aaron's imminent
arrival.

Comforted that the autopilot had everything in hand, he glanced back at his
notepad and pressed a button to bring it back to the summary page. He
looked again at the information displayed there. Tyler Jones was 15, a few
days shy of his 16th birthday. 5'10", ~160lbs, blond hair, blue eyes, lived
at home with his parents and younger brother Zack, had an excellent
academic record and was on a number of the school sports teams. There was
no way around it, the lad was cute – the very definition of the
all-American boy. Underneath was the charge. Jones had broken the law and
Aaron was on his way to punish him. But also to size him up and possibly to
make him an offer. He smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

It occurred to him that Chief Proctor Roberts might have chosen his first
assignment for him personally. Given how far it out was and how mundane a
crime, it was almost certain. This was nothing the local peace-corps
wouldn't handle normally. Old man Roberts had a soft spot for him, knew his
vices (intimately!), so he said a silent thanks and set about gathering
himself for the job ahead. As the craft lowered itself into a free spot in
the High School's parking lot, Aaron put on his cap, straightened his badge
and lifted his case. It might be his first solo assignment, but there was
no need for anyone else to know that. A quick glance in the mirror
confirmed he looked the part, and he stepped out as the door opened
automatically.

A safe distance from his car stood the principal. A thin, tired, gaunt
little fellow with a sad look in his eyes. He was clearly sizing Aaron up,
and probably didn't take kindly to being dragged out of his office at zero
notice. A quick thought caused his Visi to bring up a summary profile. Up
popped the man's details and in a semi-transparent window and a voice
started speaking gently in his ear, rhyming of the man's name, address, age
of 58, a widower, doctorate in blah blah, minor moral and criminal
infractions, etc. etc. Aaron blinked and the voice cut out and the window
faded. He smiled and extended his hand and said coolly, "Principal Weston,
how kind of you to come greet me personally".

"Welcome to our humble school, Proctor. The least I could do. I just wish
I'd had more notice to prepare for your arrival, but we'll provide anything
you need of course. You can have full use of my office whilst you're here,
and I'm having the Jones boy fetched. He'll be waiting for you."

"Most kind. But I'd prefer to use the drama studio if you don't mind. And
to be settled in for a few moments before the boy sees me." Aaron had
reviewed the school plans on the way here and selected the studio as it was
at the end of one wing on its own, away from prying eyes.

Weston's eyes flashed a momentary exasperation but his response was a
polite, "But of course!" Aaron could see the man subvocalizing a bunch of
instructions and imagined a flurry of activity inside the building as Jones
was redirected and potentially a class was evicted from the studio. The
thought caused his Visi to bring up a timetable for the drama studio, and
sure-enough there was a class in progress. No doubt there was squawks of
protest as the class were hurriedly evicted, but he cared little for
that. The Visi also gave him some biometric stats on Weston. The man was
obviously angry and his blood pressure was up. Clearly he resented Aaron's
presence.

As they walked towards the building, the principal allowed his curiosity to
get the better of him and probed for information. "Are you sure you have
the correct boy, Proctor? Jones is one of our best and brightest. I simply
can't imagine him having... well... Unless?"

Aaron smiled back. He had no intention of feeding Weston's
curiosity. "Privacy Doctor, as you know, forbids me from commenting. We'll
keep your office informed as necessary."

"Oh. Certainly. Please, this way..."

Weston held the door for him and he stepped into the school's entrance
atrium and had a brief moment of nostalgia. Only 21 himself, it hadn't been
so long ago he'd wandered halls very similar to these. He allowed Weston to
show him the way despite the fact his Visi was already directing him there,
exchanging mundane pleasantries as they walked. They passed only to people
on the way, a janitor who silently melted into the wall, eyes down, when he
recognised the Proctor's emblem on his cap and brassard, and a younger
child with a hall-pass in hand who went pale at the sight of Aaron, hurried
past then broke into a run, no doubt to tell his classmates there was a
Proctor in the school. "NO RUNNING!" Weston called after the child. "Sorry
about that". Aaron smiled and nodded... schools never change.

When they arrived at the room, Aaron glanced inside and was satisfied –
this would do nicely. He dismissed Weston with a simple, "Thank you,
Doctor. If you could give me 10 minutes and then have the Jones boy sent in
and then ensure that we're not disturbed, I'd be very grateful." Weston
bowed, muttered an assurance and was gone. Aaron set to work re-arranging
the room.


---


Tyler Jones (TJ to everyone except his mother and teachers) leapt, and with
a deft flick of his wrist sent the ball straight towards the hoop
and... Yes! His teammates cheered and his best friend Andy slapped him on
the back, but his moment of happiness was short lived. The screech of coach
Tramel's whistle stopped him short. "JONES! Over here!" He was pointing at
the ground in front of him and looked annoyed. Tyler frowned. That had been
a perfect shot! Had the coach thought he'd spotted something? He trotted
over, ready to profess his innocence against whatever it was the Coach
thought he'd seen.

 "Report to Doctor Weston's office, right now. Don't bother to get
changed."

Tyler's eyebrows shot up. "What..." he started to ask, but Tramel cut him
short. "MOVE!" he bellowed, and Tyler sprinted to the gym's exit.

As he hurried along the corridors towards the principal's office, wondered
what was going on. Were his parents ok? Had Zack hurt himself again? Had he
stuffed something up? His worries weren't allayed any by Celia, Doc
Weston's assistant, who simply told him to have a seat whilst giving him a
strange look then studiously ignored him and went back to work. Normally
she was all smiles for Tyler and liked to chat, so something was definitely
amiss.

Moments later, he saw Celia look up suddenly, appearing startled and
watched as she stabbed at the buttons on her desk quickly. "Hello? Yes. I
need you to get out of the drama studio now. What? I know! You need to..."
She paused, looked up at Tyler as if just remembering he was there, and hit
the privacy shield button, then carried on her conversation inaudibly to
him. By the Hand, what was going on?

A scant few minutes later, Weston stormed in looking furious. "Sir?..." he
tried, but got "Shush lad, just sit there and be quiet!" as he marched
past, indicating to Celia to follow him. Celia shot him her best
sympathetic look and scurried into the principal's office, pulling the door
closed behind. Tyler made out a muffled "Who does he think he is? Marching
in here like that! Have you seen him? He's barely out of short trousers and
I'm expected to run around after..." "Now John, you know better than to get
your blood pressure..." he heard Celia interject before the unmistakeable
squelch and faint buzz as the privacy screen cut in.

Tyler pondered as he sat. Who was Doc Weston referring to? He didn't have
to wait long as the principal, now better composed appeared a few minutes
later and motioned him to stand up. "Go straight down to the drama studio
son, knock on the door and wait until you're called. Quickly now".

As he walked down the halls, Tyler was thoroughly confused. He'd had a good
morning, they were winning their game and now all of this hoorah. He got to
the drama studio door with his mind full of questions, rapped on it and
waited. "COME!"

As he stepped inside he noticed a plain desk in the middle of the room, and
a wooden chair in front of it. But the sight of the man in the black
uniform over by the window almost caused him to faint and he stopped where
he stood. The unmistakable insignia of the Imperial Bureau for Peace &
Morality stared back at him and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. His
ears burned as he realised he'd been caught and knew instantly that his day
was going to get a whole lot worse.

"Come and sit down Tyler Jones"


---


Aaron felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. He was clearly terrified as he
stumbled towards the chair. No surprise really. The Proctors of the
Imperial Bureau were notorious and could mete out punishment up to and
including death in an instant. They were the high justice, called in for
the most serious of offences, and rumours of people who'd had dealings with
them were rife. The bureau did little to correct such rumours, as the
rumours were considered useful in maintaining order. One of those rumours
included the idea that Proctors could read minds. The bureau definitely
didn't discourage that idea, untrue as it was.

As the boy sat, Aaron took him in. This was better than he could have hoped
for. The profile photo didn't do him justice, and Aaron felt his dick
instantly throb at the sight of this little stud-muffin in his yellow
basketball singlet and shorts, blue socks and hi-tops. Fuck he was hot! He
suppressed an unprofessional smile which the boy thankfully hadn't seen and
walked behind him, running a gloved hand across the boy's shoulder, saying
nothing. The boy tensed further if that was possible, and Aaron walked
around and took his seat behind the desk. Their eyes met, and Tyler quickly
looked down, unable to meet the gaze.

Aaron proceeded to unpack some things from his case, and placed a recording
cube at one corner of the desk. He tapped it, and it glowed a soft blue,
indicating it was recording. A silly device and solely for effect, as his
Visi was automatically recording everything anyway. This ensured that
whatever occurred was by the Bureau's rules, and he could expect his first
few assignments to be reviewed when he checked back in at the end of his
probationary period. Ubiquitous as the Visis were, they often provided
irrefutable evidence for the proctors too. Well, there had been that one
case of a kid who'd managed to hack the system and inject footage that was
apparently genuine. He'd used it for revenge on a few victims, but the ruse
was quickly discovered, security tightened, and well... it hadn't ended
well for the kid. An example was made. As Aaron pulled out the paddle and
strop and placed them to one side of the desk, he saw Tyler's eyes widen
and felt the fear level surge.

"Let us start with some simple questions, for the record. Name."  "Tyler
Jones" came the faltering reply.  "Age" "15" "Why are you here?"

There was a pause. A reluctance to admit it. To commit. But the boy had
gumption.

"I illegally downloaded pornography"

Good, thought Aaron. No need to labour the point. The boy knew he'd been
caught and submitted to his fate. Aaron decided to press the matter home.

"Yes. And the exact offence?"  "It's illegal for a minor to download
pornography sir. It's an offence against the morals of our nation"

The boy knew his Moral Code. But did he understand it?

"Why is that an offence?"

Again, a hesitation. Clearly Tyler was considering the answer.

"The youth are not..." started Tyler, but Aaron cut him off.  "Don't parrot
the moral code to me. I'm required to know it verbatim. Why do you think
it's an offence? Do you agree with it? Or not?"

Tyler stopped, dumbfounded. This was verging on heresy! He'd never heard
the moral code questioned, other than in idle locker-room chatter. To hear
a Proctor ask Why? was mind-blowing. It had to be a trap.

"The youth are not to be corrupted by the sins of the flesh. They are
incorrupti...". Aaron's hand slammed down hard on the table, startling
Tyler.  "I SAID: Don't parrot the fucking moral code to me!"

Tyler froze, unable to proceed. He finally looked up at the Proctor sat
opposite him. A young man, brown hair mostly hidden by the Proctor's
cap. Steely eyed and demanding. What did he WANT? He'd already admitted his
guilt. He narrowed his eyes quizzically. Aaron, recognising the impasse,
decided to switch back to a standard line of questioning.

"Describe the nature of the pornography you downloaded."

Again, a pause. A reluctance to "come out". Then defeat.

"It was gay pornography sir". Aaron felt a sense of relief from the boy at
the use of the word.  "So I see. Are you gay?" Again, a short pause.  "Yes"
"But I see that some of it was more than that?"  "It was... I... some of it
was bondage related sir".

We're getting there, thought Aaron. Just a little more.

"Do you find the idea of bondage attractive?"

Again, a pause. A consideration. The boy slumped his shoulders, defeated.

"Yes sir" "Why?"

Tyler breathed heavily. He had no idea why he found the idea of bondage
stimulating. He just DID. The idea of being tied up, helpless, cast aside
like some ornament until his captor decided to play... Wait. Why was the
Proctor asking all of these questions? He'd expected to be punished, but to
bare his soul beforehand was something else...

"I don't know Sir" "Do you enjoy the idea of being dominated?"  "Yes sir"
"Why?"  "I don't know Sir, I just do."

Aaron paused, looking at the boy opposite him. His eyes were down, his
shoulders slumped. The last responses had been almost mumbled. This line of
questioning was going nowhere. Best get to the point, then circle back for
more later.

"Do you know the punishment for a minor downloading pornography in
contravention of the moral code?"  "No Sir" "Up to 24 strokes of the
paddle"

Again, a pause. The boy looked miserable. He decided to get it over with.

"Tyler Jones, I find you guilty of the crime of accessing improper
materials whilst a minor in contravention of section 92 of his Imperial
Majesty's moral code. Do you have anything to say before I sentence you?"
"No Sir" "Very well, in the name of the Hand of the emperor, I sentence you
to 12 strokes of the paddle to be administered immediately. I intend to
administer the punishment now. Stand up". Tyler stood, almost in tears.
"Stand in front of the desk." The boy shuffled forward.  "Shorts down, and
bend over the desk".

Tyler lowered his basketball shorts to the floor and bent fully over the
desk, trying not to cry. How had it come to this? He thought he'd managed
to hide his access...

"What in the Hand's name are you wearing?"

Tyler quickly lowered his compression shorts to the ground too, exposing
his naked skin. He had no wish to anger the Proctor further, and was too
terrified not to comply.  Aaron looked at the naked ass in front of him and
admired it. It was round, inviting, and he knew he was going to enjoy
spanking it.

"Why aren't you wearing a jockstrap?"

Tyler felt another burst of fear. He knew he was supposed to, but NO-ONE
did...

"Uh, we don't..."  "You know it's required by the uniform code?"  "Yes Sir,
but no-one..."  "You mean to tell me that no-one in your school follows the
uniform code?" Aaron sensed an opportunity for some fun beyond his current
victim.  "Well, no. Not unless... That is..."  "ENOUGH! I'll deal with that
soon enough. Pull up your shirt and push out your butt. Put your hands over
the back of your head". The boy complied, leaning forward on the desk
prone. Aaron continued, "For each swat, I want you to call out the
number. If you forget or lose count, I'll start again, so mind that you get
it right" "Yes Sir"

Aaron reached down and picked up the paddle, strode around behind the
boy. Aaron swatted the paddle through the air a number of times, each time
smiling as he watched the boy involuntarily flinch as he thought a blow
might be about to land. Aaron rested a hand on the boy's spine as he took
the last practise stroke, and felt a tingle as the boy tensed at the whoosh
of air. His own head was rushing, and he had to breathe deeply to maintain
focus.

He leant back and brought the wooden paddle down sharply on the boy's prone
ass. WHACK!

There was a long pause, and Aaron angrily thought for a moment that he'd
have to prompt the boy. Then, a quavering "One!"

Aaron brought the second stroke down even more firmly, perfectly across the
boy's cheeks. WHACK!

The boy gasped, unable to comprehend the pain surging through his brain. He
managed to get out "Two!"

Once again the paddle struck the target smartly with a resounding WHACK!

"Aaaah!" cried Tyler, as he involuntarily lifted from the desk. Never
having been struck in his life, this pain was new to him – a searing
burn beyond description, bringing tears to his eyes.  "GET DOWN AND
CONTINUE THE COUNT!" bellowed Aaron. The boy complied and sobbed "Three!"

Aaron swatted the air and saw the boy tense and sob. By now he was
rigid. He both wanted to fuck the boy and comfort him. He shook his head
and pressed on.

As the fourth blow struck, again with a resounding WHACK, the boy let go an
anguished sob and finally broke down into a flood of tears. "F... four!"

By the time he'd administered the fifth and sixth stroke, the boy was a
wreck. Aaron, sensing the loss of value of the lesson, the fact that young
Tyler's ass and brain were now so numb as to invalidate the purpose,
decided to belay the punishment for now. "STAND UP!" he commanded, and the
boy jerked into the air, still with his hands behind his head. The boy's
ass was glowing a fiery red, as he sobbed uncontrollably, wretchedly. Aaron
placed the paddle on the desk and circled the boy, taking in the view. The
short blond-ish pubes framed a hairless but substantial pair of balls, and
the boy's 7" uncut cock thrust forward, the front of his basketball singlet
resting on it. Was it possible he was enjoying this?? The thought drove
Aaron wild, but he had a job to do and mustered his thoughts to the task at
hand.

After a few moments as the sobs gently died down, he enquired:

"Are you ready for the next six?"  "Ye... Yes Sir." Came the sobbed
response.  "Good, but I think we've lost momentum, and I think a break is
in order. Pull up your shorts."

Aaron watched as the boy scrambled to pick up his shorts, obviously
relieved. Amusingly, he tried to stuff his boner into the compression
shorts and loose basketball shorts, before giving up and just accepting it
for what it was. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood to attention
behind the desk, awaiting instructions, still gently sobbing. Aaron circled
back and sat down in front of him.

"Do you understand why you're being punished?"  "Ye.. Yes Sir, I broke the
moral code of the Emperor" "Anything else?" Aaron let it hang, and wondered
if the boy would admit to something not in their see-all records.  "No
Sir. Well. Being gay?"

Aaron's heart broke. That it was still such an issue after all this time
and such progress. The crackdowns on bullying, the public reinforcement.

"No lad, not that. The Emperor himself doesn't care if you're gay" "Oh"
"Rest assured lad, it's not an issue. I'm gay myself you know?"

Aaron surprised himself at his candour, and watched amused as the boy's
eyebrows shot up. Had this lad got under his defences?

----

Tyler's mind was in turmoil. The pain of the punishment had been almost
unbearable. The searing pain of each stroke had been more than he could
handle, and he'd never felt anything like it in his life before, and he'd
had to stop himself from begging for it to stop. By the time they'd got to
six strokes, he was on the verge of passing out. He'd have given anything
for the pain to stop, done anything the Proctor asked.

Then suddenly it HAD stopped. A wave of hope coursed through him, and he
thanked the Proctor internally for not going on with the punishment. What
had inspired this relief he didn't know, but he was grateful and ready to
do anything lest the punishment continue. He sobbingly answered the
questions which followed, not really thinking about anything other than his
scorching ass and the pain coursing through his brain. He could barely
focus.

Then... had he heard correctly? Had the Proctor really said he was gay? He
hadn't really looked at him before, but now he did. In other circumstances
he would have been attracted to the Proctor. Slightly taller than he, older
but not by much, square shouldered and intense. And in that uniform... This
was perverse! Tyler found himself looking at the young man across the desk
from him and LUSTing after him. His dick stiffened more than it was already
as he surveyed the handsome square jaw and resolute authority figure. He'd
already been instructed to pull his shorts up, but that wasn't doing much
to hide the fact that his dick was throbbing. At this moment he would have
done ANYTHING the Proctor wanted. He knew he had another six strokes of the
paddle to come, yet the Proctor had stopped them. What next?