"There's a stoppage, immediate action", Hutchinson looked to Timothy to assist him in the war training exercises. The younger boy was dazed off with visions of the doctor's watch. He didn't hear a word.
"Didn't I tell you, Sir", Hutchinson spat, turning to the headmaster, "This stupid boy is useless! Permission to give Latimer a beating, Sir?"
"It's your class, Mr Smith", the headmaster replied, turning to the Doctor.
"Permission granted", Hutchinson grinned. He loved giving the younger boys a good pummeling. It was even better when he had permission, because he had no need to worry about his own hide while he was doing it.
"Right, come with me, you little oiyk", he said, yanking the boy along.
Timothy grimaced when he felt the older boy's grip. It was his third beating of the week, not counting the one Baines had given him for knocking over a pint of stolen beer. His bottom was beet red still, he was sure of it.
"Alright then, Latimer. Knickers down and bend over", Hutchinson ordered, shoving the child into a classroom.
"Please, sir. I'm sorry"
"You'll be a lot sorrier if you don't follow commands. Now, hurry up. We've got class soon, and I want to make this last"
Sniffling, Timothy unsnapped his trousers and pulled them down with his underwear. He bent over the empty teacher's desk, lifting his bare bottom into the air for punishment. Hutchinson walked over to the corner and opened a wooden chest. The school had canes of course and paddles, but he'd come to this classroom for a reason. Professor Hardwick always kept a stash of switches hidden away in a chest. Dreadful, stinging things. Great for an opportunity like this one. He grabbed one out of the pile and made his way over to Tim, lifting up his arm and bringing the switch down hard.
"One sir", Timothy whimpered as the sting spread through his bottom
"Two sir", he squeezed back the tears that were forming.
"Th-three sir", don't cry, don't cry, don't…
"Agggh. Four sir", stupid stupid stupid. Perhaps he wouldn't notice.
"Ah ah ah. Latimer boy, was that a cry I heard?" Hutchinson said with mock disappointment. Timothy knew better.
"No sir. I just… I'm sorry sir"
"Now, boy. What happens when you cry before the sixth stroke?"
"Please, sir."
"What happens, Latimer?"
"We start again, sir"
"Correct. We start again until you can take your beating like a man. And again", the switch swished down and Tim gulped down the howl that was forming in his throat.
"One sir"
"…Two sir"
"…Three sir"
"Four! Four sir"
"Mmm five sir"
"Ssss-six sir", he breathed with relief, glad that the punishment was over. Hutchinson came up behind him to examine, turning to the other boys.
"Hmm. Doesn't look near red enough to me. How about you boys?" a chorus of 'no's came from the crowd and Timothy felt his stomach flip, "I'm sorry Latimer. I think I saw you move out of position. No need to count these next strokes. Just try to keep the noise to a minimum"
Hutchinson laid into the boy with the switch, bringing it down again and again. Timothy kept his crying silent save a few whimpers, knowing that he would be punished further if he made a fuss. He hissed as the switch came down on his thighs. It made him rise up on his toes from the pain. Finally, the branch broke in half. Hutchinson laid down a few more swats with his hand before commanding Timothy to stand.
"What have you to say for yourself, Latimer?"
"S-sorry sir. I-I'll do b-better"
"I should hope so, for the sake of your hide", the older boy laughed and strolled out the door, running straight into the doctor.
"Mr. Smith", he said nervously, "I didn't see you there"
"The appropriate number of strokes for a beating by a prefect is six, am I correct?"
"Yes sir, but…"
"My office, Hutchinson. Now."
To be continued…