Once again, this is a spanking story, so please avoid it if that kind of thing offends you!

For some explanation about my Fire Emblem stories, please see my bio and the author's note on my previous story, "Curbing Claude."

Hope you enjoy!

"Professor Byleth!"

Byleth looked up from the book he was studying to see Cyril running towards him. As usual, there was a determined look on the boy's face that indicated he was pursuing an important task.

"What is it, Cyril?" It was late in the evening, which was usually the time Byleth set aside to be able to study and prepare his lesson undisturbed.

"Seteth would like to see you immediately!" Cyril reported, "He said he will be waiting for you on the second floor, by the infirmary."

"Do you know why he wants me?" Byleth wondered, not expecting an affirmative response. Cyril generally just did as he told without asking questions, and Seteth was not one for explaining himself.

"I think I heard him mutter somethin' about Claude, and he seemed pretty mad, but he didn't say exactly," Cyril replied, "Now I've delivered my message, I have other things to get to. I'm really very busy, you know!"

He scurried off, and Byleth sighed. Of course it was Claude: his most promising and his most difficult student. He could only wonder what the boy had gotten himself into...

He kept up a brisk pace on his way to the infirmary from his office, as he certainly did not want to keep Seteth waiting. The man tended to be a bit stringent, and Byleth had a feeling he was already in a less than pleasant mood.

When he arrived at the designated rendezvous, he found Seteth standing with his arms crossed, staring down a very nervous Claude.

"Teach! Uhh... Professor..." Claude saw Byleth approach, and a look of relief flashed briefly across his face before being chased away by Seteth's angry scowl.

Seteth turned toward Byleth, and it was all Byleth could do not to shrink back from his righteous indignation. "Professor Byleth, what excellent timing. Claude was just about to explain himself; it will be better for both of us to hear it at once."

"What's happened?" Byleth locked eyes with his student, who held his gaze for only a moment before flicking his eyes to the side.

"Let me catch you up to date," Seteth began, "I was returning from my evening prayers when I happened to look up and saw a figure climbing up the wall of the monastery."

"Climbing?" Byleth frowned. Where is this going...

"Yes, an unusual sight to be sure. I almost called the guards, but I thought I recognized the figure. It was nearly dark, but I managed to make out the face as he pulled himself into the infirmary window: it was your young pupil here." Seteth cast a distasteful glance toward Claude before continuing, "I sent Cyril for you immediately, and came up myself to get to the root of the matter. I found this one rooting through the bottles and herbs in the infirmary, but I have yet to get an explanation as to why."

Both men turned to Claude, who shrank into himself under their stern, expectant glares.

"Claude, what were you doing in the infirmary?" The reproach was evident in Byleth's tone.

Claude forced a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, y'know, it's not like it's a restricted area... I am allowed to be there..."

"Which makes climbing in through the window a bit unnecessary, doesn't it?" Byleth retorted with a raised brow, "People don't usually scale walls if walking in through the door accomplishes the same end. You still haven't answered my question."

A look of chagrin passed over Claude's face, and Seteth almost smirked. So, the young professor had some authority after all. How interesting. Although there were only a few years between student and professor, that gap seemed much wider in terms of maturity. Seteth decided to sit back and see how their newest professor handled his wayward student.

"Uh, well, I just needed some things..." Claude stammered.

"That still doesn't explain the window."

"You know I have a flair for the dramatic-"

"Claude."

"Fine!" Claude huffed, "I didn't want Manuela or anyone interfering."

"You were taking something she wouldn't allow you to have?" Byleth concluded with a sigh.

"Technically, I was returning something," Claude shifted uncomfortably, then added under his breath, "...that she wouldn't have allowed me to have."

Byleth narrowed his eyes, "You snuck in here before tonight and stole something?"

"I only borrowed it!" Claude protested, "I put it back; that's why I'm here now."

"So, you already used it, yes? What did you take?" Byleth was relieved the boy showed no sign of intoxication, but he was completely at a loss as to what other possible use Claude would have to break into the infirmary.

"Um..." Claude was desperately scrambling for an answer that would somehow avoid incriminating him, but Byleth did not intend to give him the chance to synthesize a cover story.

"It's not a hard question, Claude. What did you take?"

"...It...it was a sedative tonic."

Claude knew the next question was coming, and he had no response that didn't end with him in serious trouble.

"Why?"

Claude quickly pieced a plausible story together in his mind. It was obvious he had not taken the sedative, but perhaps he could try a friendship angle. He would probably still be in trouble, but not as badly as if they found out what he had really been doing.

"Well, Hilda hasn't been sleeping well, y'see, and she has these headaches, and Manuela wouldn't give her anything to help," Claude realized he was talking too fast, and made an effort to slow down a little, "I was tired of watching her suffer, so I found something to help her. It worked too: she went right to sleep for the first time in weeks."

It wasn't a bad story, for such a quick work. However, the fiery look in Byleth's eyes was not encouraging.

"Are you trying to tell me that Hilda, who can't keep it to herself when she has a mosquito bite, has had headaches and insomnia for weeks without all of us knowing about it?"

Claude winced, Should've gone with Marianne...

"Why don't you try again." Byleth's darkened expression sent chills down Claude's spine. He had never seen the professor look or sound so angry, despite the calm control that still manifested in his demeanor. It was profoundly unsettling, and Claude finally dipped his head and mumbled out his hurried truth.

"Well... the House Battle is tomorrow, and... and I got sick of Their Royal Highnesses bragging all week about how their houses are so noble and glorious, and how they're sure to defeat all their enemies," Claude chewed nervously on his lip, shifting his gaze anywhere but towards the two men before him as he spoke, "So... I heard some of the knights complaining about this tonic the nurses gave them when they were injured; it's like a sedative that knocks you out for hours, and leaves you with a wicked hangover."

Byleth pressed his palm against his forehead. He could tell where this was going.

"So I wondered," Claude continued, "How noble and glorious their Highnesses would be if they couldn't walk a straight line in the battlefield. It was just to disorient them, kinda knock them down a peg, y'know?"

Seteth looked horrified, "You've drugged Dimitri and Edelgard!?"

Claude swallowed hard, "Umm... yes sir... only a little."

"Claude, how-" Byleth broke off, closing his eyes and shaking his head, "Nevermind, it doesn't matter."

He turned toward Seteth, who still seemed to be processing the information.

"If those two are compromised, it hardly seems fair to continue with the House Battle tomorrow, does it?"

Seteth shook his head, drilling Claude with an intense glare, "No, of course not. I will have to make arrangements to postpone the battle until they are recovered."

"I understand if you wish to penalize the Golden Deer house for this... disruption."

Claude opened his mouth to protest, but he was silenced by a glare from Byleth.

"That will not be necessary. The combat experience is much too valuable to deprive the students of. However," Seteth fixed an icy-hot glare on Claude, "I will expect you to properly correct your student for this inexcusable behavior."

"Of course," Byleth nodded respectfully, "I have every intention of addressing the issue fully and immediately."

Claude's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly with a quick, shaky inhale. Seteth took in the boy's reaction, pondering its significance. Clearly, the prospect of such a lesson was intimidating, which suggested some history of disciplinary action from the young professor. Marginally satisfied that proper discipline would be administered, he nodded slowly.

"Very well. I will leave you to it. I have many arrangements to make before tomorrow." With that, he turned and swept down the hall, leaving the two younger men facing each other.

After a beat of silence, Byleth turned towards the stairs and beckoned for Claude to follow. "Come, we will discuss this further in my office."

He paused at the top of the stairs, hand resting on the railing as he spoke without turning, "Claude, do not make this more difficult. Come along."

Claude, who had made no move to follow, hesitated another moment before hanging his head and trudging after his angry professor. He was in deep now, might as well suck it up and face it.

When they arrived at his office, Byleth held the door for Claude to enter, then pulled it shut behind them. The thump of the shutting door sounded strangely ominous to Claude. He watched Byleth intently as he crossed the room and propped himself against his desk, folding his arms across his chest and taking a moment to consider the young man before him.

What an evening this had turned out to be.

Finally, Claude could not take the silence anymore.

"Aren't you going to say something?" He blurted out, sounding much more petulant than he intended.

Byleth raised his brows, "What should I say?"

"I don't know, anything!" Claude huffed, "Yell at me, scold me, tell me how everything I did tonight was wrong..."

"I don't see the benefit of yelling or scolding," Byleth mused, "And I do intend to convince you most unwaveringly that what you did was wrong, but first, I want you to tell me something."

Claude looked on expectantly, and Byleth accepted it as a response.

"If you had succeeded in handicapping the others during the battle, would you be satisfied with the victory?"

"I'm not sure I follow..." Claude hesitated.

Byleth sighed, "I mean, if our house had won because Dimitri and Edelgard were unable to function properly, would you have felt the victory was justified? Would it feel right to you?"

"Oh... well, it wasn't really specifically about us winning, although that would've been a great side effect," Claude's smirk quickly fled under Byleth's piercing glare, "I mean, we could've conceivably still lost to the the other students, but watching those two stumble around the battlefield..."

He thought better of finishing that thought.

"I see," remarked Byleth, "In other words, it was really just pettiness."

Claude blushed and shuffled uncomfortably, but made no reply. Part of him was still annoyed at being foiled in his devious schemes, but more prominent were feelings of trepidation and even a twinge of guilt at the anger and disappointment radiating from his professor.

Byleth was indeed both angry and disappointed. He had come to expect mischief from Claude, and while his actions tonight were certainly inexcusable and in need of correction, they were by no means shocking. The lie was another matter: he valued the trust the two of them had been building, and was disappointed at how quickly and thoughtlessly Claude had lied to him.

Still, he knew that while disciplining the boy, he would have to set these feelings aside. To let his emotions lead him would be to severely compromise his student's learning. Claude had some important lessons to learn, and he intended to deliver them quite fully.

Byleth pushed himself away from the desk, retrieved the straight-backed chair and set it directly in front of Claude. Claude cast him a confused glance.

"What's this for?"

Byleth never broke eye contact as he spoke, "I want you to drop your trousers and bend over the back of it."

"Wh-What!?" Claude recoiled from the chair, "You can't be serious!"

"Do I appear to be joking?"

"But...but..." he stammered, his breaths becoming short and shallow, "You can't... what are you..."

"I'm your professor, so I absolutely can," Byleth stated evenly, and indicated the chair with an outstretched hand, "Tonight's escapade warrants more than a smack across the palms."

Claude's stomach was doing flip-flops inside him. Byleth was right of course; as Claude's professor, he had the right to determine how to discipline him. Claude's head knew that, but his pride refused to accept it.

He set his jaw and bit out through gritted teeth, "You can't make me bend over that."

"Well, you may be right," Byleth conceded, disarming some of Claude's panicked defensiveness, "I can't force you. I suppose I was hoping that you trusted me enough as your professor to submit yourself to the consequences I deem appropriate for your actions. So tell me, do you believe me to be unfair?"

Claude's stubbornness deflated a little. While Byleth had only been at the Academy a short time, his conduct and leadership had already earned him the trust of everyone in his house, including Claude. Perhaps especially Claude. He had never once treated any of his students unfairly; on the contrary, he repeatedly went out of his way to support them and make himself available to them.

"No sir..." Claude stared sullenly down at his toes, "I... I will accept your consequences."

Byleth nodded, the barest hint of a smile softening his stern expression for a moment.

Claude approached the chair distastefully and cast one last pleading look at Byleth. Getting only an expectant nod from his professor, he sighed and turned back to the dreaded chair.

"Claude," Byleth interrupted just as he was starting to bend, "Drop your trousers."

Claude groaned, "Aww, do I really have to?"

"Yes, I believe that is what I said."

With a little huff, Claude brought his hands to his waist and pushed his trousers down just below his ass. His face was burning as he slowly lowered his torso over the back of the chair, bringing his hands to rest on the seat.

Byleth placed his hand on Claude's back and pushed lightly, bending him until his forehead touched the seat. Claude whimpered, but allowed himself to be repositioned. The top of the chair pressed into his hips, and his legs had to stretch a little to keep his feet on the ground.

Byleth nudged Claude's feet apart slightly with his own, so they aligned with the legs of the chair. He then hooked his fingers in Claude's trousers and pulled them down further to rest just above his knees.

"I will expect you to maintain this position," he commanded, his voice soft but unwavering, "You may find it helpful to grip the sides of the chair."

Claude shuddered as he followed Byleth's directions. His face burned with the humiliation of his position: bent over the chair with his ass in the air, feeling exposed and completely vulnerable before his professor.

Byleth was none too comfortable with the situation either. In fact, a sense of dread filled his stomach at what he was about to do. He walked to his desk and picked up the crop, which still felt strange in his hands, and returned to stand beside Claude. Steeling his voice against any tremors that would compromise his authority, he spoke as sternly as he could.

"You will receive fifteen strokes for drugging your fellow students, and ten more for lying to me about it."

Claude lifted his head and looked as though he were about to say something, but lowered it back down with a whine and a little nod. He had already agreed to Byleth's discipline, and would accept the punishment he chose.

"If you fight me, or prove uncooperative, I will add to your punishment," Byleth continued, "Is that clear?"

"Y-yes sir." Claude mumbled, a shiver running up his spine. His whole body was rigid with dreadful anticipation.

"Very well, let's begin."

Byleth set his jaw and swung the crop up and back down across the middle of Claude's bottom. Claude yelped and immediately shot upright, bringing both hands back to cover the stinging stripe. He cast a quick puppy-eyed look toward Byleth before grimacing and slowly returning himself to his assigned position.

"Claude, I told you to stay in your position," Byleth warned, "I will not increase your penalty this time; we simply shall not count that one, yes?"

Claude nodded quickly, "Yes sir!"

When the next stroke fell, Claude tightened his grip on the chair and squeezed his eyes shut. The sting was awful, even worse than he had expected. At the third stripe he inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to stay still.

Byleth made sure to keep a slow enough pace that Claude felt each stripe fully, but not so slow as to draw the punishment out unreasonably long. He followed no particular method in placing his blows, but tried to avoid landing the crop across skin that had already been whipped. His stomach was already turning at the pain he was inflicting on the boy, and he wanted to minimize the damage as much as possible.

As for Claude, he did his best to remain still. This became increasingly difficult as the crop landed lower, striking the more sensitive skin under the curve of his ass and across the backs of his thighs. His knees began jerking up towards his chest at especially painful swats, and his body jerked and curled involuntarily. Little yelps and whimpers tumbled from his mouth despite his gritted teeth.

As a line of fire snapped across the very tops of his thighs, his breath caught for a moment before slowly trickling its way out in the form of a quiet sob. He ducked his head further and waited for the next stroke. Instead, he felt a hand rest on his back, and heard Byleth sigh.

Claude lifted his head slightly to glance back at the professor. He had lost track of the number of strokes that had fallen across his blazing skin, but he was pretty sure they still fell short of the allotted twenty-five.

Byleth met Claude's questioning gaze, noting the tears that threatened to overflow the boy's eyes. Somehow, Claude's usual cocky demeanor made his tearful, submissive state all the more pitiful, and Byleth could not help the softening in his own expression.

"That's fifteen, Claude," he stated, rubbing Claude's back slowly as he felt a shudder ripple through the boy, "I know Dimitri and Edelgard irritate you at times, but sedating them with stolen drugs was definitely the wrong way to handle things. Besides the sheer pettiness of it, you know practically nothing about medicine; what if you had taken the wrong bottle? Some drugs are poisonous in uncontrolled doses!"

Claude's shoulders slumped farther around his ears "I-I'm sorry..."

"Good," Byleth nodded, "You will apologize to both of them as soon as they are recovered enough to understand you, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Claude grimaced: apologizing to Their Royal Highnesses would not be a pleasant experience.

"Alright, you have ten more for lying to me," Byleth adjusted his position, keeping his left hand pressed against Claude's back while he brought the crop to rest lightly against the boy's bottom.

Claude braced himself as he felt the crop brush against his skin. Thinking about the lie now, he felt utterly stupid. One thought dominated his mind, fueling the tears that began to leak from his tightly closed eyes:

If I had just told Teach the truth the first time, he would be done whipping my ass now...

The swish of the crop signaled the next stroke just before it landed.

"Ah!" Claude arched his back and curled one leg as the fire in his backside was reignited. Byleth's hand remained firmly pressed against his back, strangely comforting in that it provided something for Claude to push against without abandoning his position.

It was that contact that finally broke Claude down. The offer of comfort even while he was being punished called to his mind all the ways Byleth had supported him in the short time since he came to the Academy; building an actual relationship with him that nurtured his growth in a way no other professor had ever done before. And Claude had just lied to face, without even really thinking about it.

The tension melted out of Claude's body as he completely surrendered himself to his punishment. The stripes across his ass felt like fire, and he gave up all attempts at maintaining his dignity. He cried in earnest, squirming and jerking as the last strokes bit into his skin.

Byleth brought the crop down for the final time across the middle of Claude's ass, then tossed the instrument onto his desk. He shuddered and breathed out a relieved sigh. Thank goodness that's over with.

Claude continued to sob uncontrolled. His body was completely collapsed over the chair: his head resting on the seat, his shoulders slumped, his legs bent and hanging against the back of the chair.

"M'sorry..." he managed through the tears, "'M so s-sorry, Teach..."

"You're forgiven," Byleth replied, "I expect much better behavior in the future, yes?"

Claude nodded, "Y-yes sir!"

Byleth noted the sobs still shaking the boy's body, and a sad smile softened his features. Lowering himself to one knee beside his crying student, he laid his hand on the back of his head and stroked his fingers through his hair.

"Shh, good boy." He soothed, "You took your punishment very well; I am proud of you. Hush now."

Claude melted into the comfort of both the touch and the words. Slowly, his sobs abated into sniffles, and the shaking subsided.

Seeing he had calmed down some, Byleth took hold of the boy's arm and gently guided him back up to standing. He allowed him a moment to fix his clothing, which he did quite gingerly, and with a good deal of wincing and grimacing. Once Claude was fully clothed, Byleth took hold of the boy's chin to force eye contact as he spoke.

"I trust you have learned from tonight, Claude, and we will not have to repeat this lesson anytime soon."

Claude gulped under his professor's stern gaze, "Yes sir."

"Good," Byleth put a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the door, "You had better get back to your dormitory, then. It is getting late, and we will have a lot to do tomorrow."

A look of apprehension passed across Claude's features, "Maybe Dimitri and Edelgard will just sleep all through tomorrow..."

Byleth shook his head and gave Claude a little push toward the door, "Regardless, you will have to face them eventually. I suggest you spend some time thinking about what to say to them when you do."

"I guess..." Claude muttered sulkily as he walked away. He turned back at the door and offered Byleth a little smile, "G'night, Teach."

"Goodnight, Claude."

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Claude rubbed his hands up and down his aching backside. Geez, Teach sure knows how to use that crop...

Walking back to his dormitory was unpleasant to say the least, with his trousers continually rubbing against his freshly whipped skin. As soon as he was in his own room, he stripped the trousers off completely and flopped down on his bed.

He realized as soon as he laid down how completely exhausted he was, and his eyelids immediately began to droop. As he drifted off to sleep, he considered the serious young professor who had just given him quite a memorable thrashing.

I still haven't gotten Teach totally figured out, but I do know a couple of things, he thought with a yawn, He can give one hell of a thrashing, and he's the best professor I've ever had...