A Lesson in Decorum
by Virginia
He must have looked at that cane a hundred times. Looked at it, but never really saw it. Not for what it was.
To Dick Grayson, all the times he'd been in Alfred's parlor (as Bruce called the downstairs sitting room because the butler had decorated it himself with memorabilia from his home land), the delicate-looking white cane served the purpose it appeared to: a decorative piece hanging on the wall, with a white straw hat crossed over the center. A little fanciful, for Dick's taste, but it somehow fit in with the rest of the room's décor.
He discovered a very different purpose for the cane one day when he and Alfred were alone in the Manor. Bruce was away on business -- for real, this time, not having to do with his life as the Batman. He was monitoring a merger that could have an impact on Wayne Industries. Dick hadn't been able to miss that much school, considering final exams started tomorrow.
Teenage hormones had gotten the better of him, and he'd found himself on the phone with Pete, his friend from math class. The two teens had traded secrets about one of the girls both boys had dated. Alfred had overheard, and attempted lecturing him about the importance of maintaining a gentleman's demeanor.
If only Dick had let it go at that. No, he had to mouth off to the much older man about how things had changed since Alfred's day, how nobody thought anything of such talk nowadays.
That had not been an answer Alfred Pennyworth would accept. He had instantly asked Master Dick (in that way he had that left no room for refusal) to accompany him to the front parlor.
Alfred had never been one for beating around the bush. Neither was Bruce Wayne, but while Bruce often seemed 'stumped' with his ward's behavior, Alfred simply acted. Bruce was certainly getting better at it -- unfortunately for Dick's nether regions. Alfred however showed no hesitation in supporting his point with some well placed emphasis.
Once they were in the parlor, Alfred favored him with a stern look. "Young sir, you are not leaving this room without a good taste of discipline for your lack of self control. There is a certain amount of decorum that a gentleman must learn to possess. I take it upon myself to make sure you have every available opportunity to learn that lesson."
That told Dick what was coming. Whenever Alfred mentioned 'discipline' and 'lesson' in the same breath, Dick Grayson's immediate future was already determined. He knew he paled, but at that point didn't care. Maybe it was the man's English upbringing, or simply his having been raised in a different time era, but Alfred Pennyworth was an absolute master when it came to corporal punishment. Bruce was skilled at it himself (and Dick had more than once wondered if Bruce had learned what he knew first hand, perhaps, from Alfred). But when Alfred disciplined him, it didn't take long at all before the message was effectively imparted.
The older man crossed the room to stand before the wall. Dick watched, puzzled as Alfred reached out to the decorative wall hanging. He removed the straw hat and set it carefully on a table top. He then removed the cane -- and Dick watched in horror as realization hit.
Alfred held the thing with near reverence, running one hand down its length. One sample swish through the air showed how flexible and willowy the thing was. Dick observed how the cane bent easily from air resistance and knew without a doubt it was going to blaze across his bottom.
He had been switched once -- well, Robin had been. And had deserved it. Even facing Alfred and the cane, flashing back on the switching incident he had no illusions he'd not fully deserved it. He and Batman were headed home from a near-disastrous night of patrol and Batman had acted on a suudden decision. The Batmobile swerved off the road. With precious little talk -- that always came later, and after all, Robin knew exactly what he'd done to earn the punishment -- the caped crusader had pulled the car some distance from the road and leapt out. He'd gone right to the stand of trees and instantly spotted what he wanted: a flexible yet sturdy switch he cut from a young tree, using the multi-purpose tool from his utility belt to cut and clean the implement until it suited his purpose.
Batman wasted no time. Robin was bent over the Batmobile and received the first installment of Batman's corrective hand for his transgression. Right over his suit, and one would think the rubber-like material would offer protection. Wrong. The suit wasn't exactly rubber but a special blend that Batman had patented for the express purpose of their crime fighting. While it protected the
wearer in some ways, it did not insulate against all sensations. It certainly did little to soften the sting that day as Batman thoroughly chastised his rear and the backs of his thighs for the reckless stunt he had pulled. Robin's subsequent trips that day bending over various available objects for a taste of the paddle definitely proved to him the suit was no protection where he needed it most.
Alfred seemed satisfied with the weight and feel of the cane in his hands. Dick shuddered away from the memory of a past, painful lesson. He was about to receive another, and he was already shaking with dread.
"If you will bend over the sofa, we will commence your lesson and then be on to other things. I believe you have plenty of studying to do this evening?"
Dick gulped and nodded. It no sooner occurred to him to plead with Alfred not to use that thing than it did to simply walk away. It just wasn't an option. He had earned this and was going to present himself for receiving it. The only thing that might stop it would be Bruce Wayne walking through the door -- but that would only be to relieve Alfred of the burden of disciplining Wayne's ward, whereupon he would take over the chore himself. And chances were that Bruce would wait patiently while Alfred carried out his punishment, then take over himself. No, thankfully, Bruce was still out of town. It was going to be bad enough receiving punishment just from Alfred.
Dick walked up to the sofa and bent forward, draping himself over the plush cushion. His one grateful thought was that Alfred hadn't demanded he lower his pants. He only wished he was wearing jeans, and not these thin khakis.
"Hands before you on the sofa," Alfred instructed.
Dick draped his arms down the front of the sofa, his palms flat against the upholstery.
"Your indiscretion, followed by your attitude, has earned you six strokes. If you give reason for us to revisit this room while Master Bruce is away, it will be for you to take down your slacks and receive a good many more than six. Is that understood?"
"Yes." He closed his eyes and waited. That part was almost as awful as feeling the punishment. He could only guess how the cane would feel, even over his clothing. He knew he had felt the sting of Batman's switching for days.
The swish preceded a line of fire high across his cotton-clad bottom. Much as he wanted to take the strokes silently, Dick gasped out loud and clawed at the sofa fabric.
The second stroke lit fire again, this one slightly lower than the last. Dick ground his teeth and clenched his fists. He groaned loudly with the third stroke, which landed across the middle of his cheeks. 'Three more,' he chanted in his head. 'Just three more.'
The fourth followed the pattern Alfred had set, igniting his backside lower still. With placement of the two to come, Dick knew he would not sit at all that evening.
The last two fell right where he expected, the fifth low on his buttocks and the sixth stroke at the crease above his thighs. They landed harder though than the first four, and Dick cried out with each one.
He opened his fists to let go of the sofa. Standing upright blazed new pain in his rear, if that were possible. He reached behind to try rubbing out the sensation but the contact only hurt worse.
Alfred replaced the cane and hat on the wall, then turned back to him. "I would suggest you gather your textbooks and lie down for your evening study, Master Dick."
As if he could do otherwise. His response came out rather meek, to his own ears. "Yes, Alfred. I will."
Alfred favored him with a warm smile, and Grayson knew the incident was behind them. Dick would have a lasting reminder for several days, but that was just as Alfred intended. "I'll be in my room."
"Very good, sir. Ring me if you require anything."
Dick made it up to his room and immediately removed his pants. That didn't lessen the fire, but a cool cloth might. He inspected the damage in his bathroom mirror and found himself noting the perfect lines that Alfred had lain across his bottom. The man had certainly done this before, Dick thought. On the heels of that thought was a mental image of Bruce Wayne, bent over and bared for
Alfred to chastise. The idea stirred a different heat within him, and his surprise almost took his mind off the discomfort. Almost.
He went to his bed and lay down, reached around and dropped the cold, wet wash cloth over his cheeks. He hissed at the sudden contact but the heat gradually died down a degree or two. Dick dropped his head in his arms and let his thoughts range over all kinds of things, past and future.
He knew he would never look at the cane again without feeling its bite and being reminded of just what had earned him the experience. It made him wonder what else in the Manor could be taken up in the interest of teaching him a lesson....
END