School Misdemeanour No 1


by A Strict Father

The boys' first weekend with me passed without further incident. The boys were still allowed to play outside but they made sure they arrived home by the time they were told to. I had beaten Craig on the Saturday when he had been late home. His brothers had heard the thrashing as they had been in the sitting room which was next to my study, and so all the children now realised I had meant it when I had said misbehaviour would be dealt with severely.

When my former neighbour and I had agreed I would take in the boys I had visited their school to see the head teacher, a middle aged lady called Miss Brand. I was disturbed to be told that all the boys had shown signs of becoming increasingly difficult in school and I had done two things. Firstly I had assured Miss Brand that their behaviour would improve—or else. Secondly I arranged with her that any misbehaviour, however minor, would be reported to me by the school. I had decided to tell the boys of the existence of this arrangement and, before they left for school on the Monday, I summoned them to the study.

Three young schoolboys dressed in regulation white shirts, grey pullover and grey short trousers faced me, shuffling nervously. I began to address them. "Just before you came to live here I visited Miss Brand at your school and I was very disappointed with what she told me. Apparently you have all been behaving badly at school for a long time now. When you came here I told you the standards I expected of you at school, as well as at home and so, starting from now, I expect your behaviour to improve. If it doesn't your school will tell me and---well I think I'll let Craig tell you what will happen".

At this point I stopped and told Craig to face his 2 younger brothers. "Tell your brothers what will happen if they do not behave at school, Craig" I ordered him.

Craig fidgeted uneasily, clearly embarrassed. "Umm, Err, You'll p-punish us dad" he said.

"How will you be punished, Craig ?" I continued.

Craig dropped his eyes to the floor and I noticed he was blushing slightly with embarrassment. "Umm with the cane dad" he muttered.

"Yes Craig. With the cane. Have you told your brothers how you were punished for being late home on Saturday" I demanded to know.

Craig shook his head but I demanded he spoke. "No dad I haven't" he mumbled.

"Then I think you should tell them what happened" I went on. "Go on, tell them so they know what to expect if they are naughty".

Craig's eyes had started to fill with tears. Clearly he was embarrassed with the thought of describing his recent caning to his younger brothers who regarded him as most younger siblings regard an older brother, as someone to look up to. "Ummm, Errrrr" was all he could say.

"Go on Craig. I want you to tell your brothers what happened on Saturday after you came in late."

"You caned me dad" He said. I motioned to him to carry on. "You caned me 8 times dad and it hurt lots and I cried and shouted".

I wanted him to tell his brothers about his ultimate humiliation. "What did I tell you to do before making you bend over the chair Craig ?" I asked.

Craig, almost in a whisper, said "You told me to take my shorts off".

I was sure his brothers had heard all this sitting in the living room but I wanted them to hear it from their brother at first hand. "And what happened when you were bent over the chair" I pressed on.

Craig, sniffling loudly now, said "You pulled my undies down, dad". He wiped away a tear from his cheek.

"Correct" I said. And then, turning to them all I went on "and that is what will happen to any of you if I hear of any naughtiness at school. Now off you go"

The three boys left the study and trotted off along the hall, out of the door and made their way to their school which was only about a 15 minute walk away. I tidied up a few things in the study and, satisfied the boys would have the good sense to behave properly, went to work.

The week passed by without incident. I had heard nothing at all from the school which meant that the boys had done nothing to incur the displeasure of Miss Brand or any of their teachers. I had imposed a rule that any homework and chores must be completed before the television could go on and Miss Nash, the housekeeper, who was home when the boys arrived in from school, made sure this happened. I was driving home when I had to take a call on my mobile phone. "Oh, I'm sorry to trouble you Mr Hall, it's Miss Brand at Byron School here." I asked her what was the problem and she went on "Well you asked me to bring to your attention any misbehaviour from your boys in school and what happened today wasn't really AT school but it INVOLVES school, if you understand". I didn't understand so I asked her to continue. "Well as you know there is a crossing patrol outside the school and I'm afraid your Stephen was playing up the lady who operates it. He was crossing the road, bold as brass, saying he was all right to cross by himself. He crossed the road about 3 or 4 times like it. There was no traffic at the time but I like the children to cross with the help of the patrol anyway. I hope you don't mind me telling you this". I told Miss Brand she had done the right thing and also told her I would deal with it.

When I arrived home the boys had finished their homework and were waiting for me to come in so that we could all eat together which was another rule I had introduced. They were watching tv. They had changed into their home wear of t shirts and gym shorts. I thanked Miss Nash for her services and she went home to her family. We sat in the dining room and ate. Stephen who, although he didn't know it yet would soon be facing me in the study, was particularly chatty. Clearly he didn't know Miss Brand had seen him larking around at the crossing patrol point. We finished our meal and the boys were sitting waiting to be told to do the washing and drying. Instead of sending them to the kitchen just yet I said "Stand up Stephen". The 8 year old rose nervously to his feet.

"Why were you fooling around today at the school crossing patrol" I demanded to know trying to sound as menacing as possible. "You know you are supposed to cross only when the patrol lady says it's safe".

Stephen studied his feet and I ordered him to look me in the eye and answer. "There weren't no cars dad" was all he could say.

"There weren't ANY cars" I corrected him "That's not the point. You were told that you only cross when told to by the patrol and I have told you what will happen if you do not do as you are told ". With that I rose from my chair walked around the table to where Stephen was standing, grasped him by the arm and led him to the study leaving the other 2 boys still sitting at the table. I called over my shoulder for them to stay there until Stephen returned.

Inside the study Stephen was weeping an attempted apology "P-P-Please d-ddad I ww-w-won't do it again" but I totally ignored him. Still pulling him by the arm I led him to the cupboard in which I kept the cane, the tawse, and the slipper, the three instruments of punishment I thought were suitable for my charges. I had decided on the cane on this occasion and produced it with a flourish. I led Stephen to the leather armchair next to the wall. "Take off your shorts" I ordered. The boy timidly complied, now weeping openly. He stepped out of his shorts and stood holding them looking at me through his tears. I told him to put them down on the chair. I flexed the cane dramatically and ordered Stephen to bend over the chair. I gave him the same lecture about remaining still and in place as I had given Craig the previous Saturday. I then grasped the elastic of his dark blue briefs and pulled them down to knee level.

"You will get 6" was all I said before administering the first stroke hard across the raised 8 year old bottom. Stephen yelled but stayed down. No 2 was quickly followed by No 3 and a loud "OWWWW PLEEEZ DAD!!" The boy remained in position however. Stroke 4 drew forth another pitiful cry and the fifth proved too much and Stephen's hands shot to his bottom. He realised the error of his ways almost at once and replaced his hands in position, grasping the opposite arm. "I warned you about that" I said. "That's one extra". Stephen wept and wailed and I noticed him grasp the arm of the chair so that the blood drained from his knuckles. I paused for effect before cracking the sixth stroke down and paused again, slightly longer this time, before administering the extra one in the crease between thighs and buttocks. Stephen literally screamed in pain but remained bent over.

I ordered him to rise and stand to attention, which he did without raising his briefs. "In future I take it you will only cross when told to do so by the patrol lady, won't you ?" I asked. The boy sobbed and nodded but only when he had managed to mutter a pitiful "Y-Yes d-d-dad" did I allow him to raise his briefs and replace his shorts.

I then ordered him to accompany me back to the dining room where his brothers were sitting, goggle eyed having heard Stephen's anguish through the wall. I told the three boys to wash and dry the crockery and cutlery and returned to the sitting room to watch a television documentary which I thought would be beneficial to me. It was a program on juvenile delinquency.


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