2 | Defiance Discipline Dream Repeat

18 A Disciplinarian's Responsibility M/MM - Sebastian's POV

What does everybody think about reading from some of the other characters' POVs?

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Once again, I have Jasper and Oliver at my desk - yawning and slumping in their chairs, dressed in unkempt uniforms. I caught them dragging their feet across the car park while their fellow students were just dismissed from their morning classes.

''How come Wesley managed to arrive; on time, but not you two?''

''Wesley was blessed with the good boy spirit, sir.'' Oliver's wittiness lights up his mildly hungover face, and though it gets on my nerves, I deem it a positive sign. It means his present condition isn't too bad, and nothing to worry about.

''Right, and he and I were cursed to always get in trouble regardless of what we do, sir." Jasper, with his drooping eyelids, turns to his friend to smirk as if they forgot I am here and notice everything - not a tiny hint goes unnoticed by me.

''Skipping your entire morning class because you drank too much the night before and were too tired to get up in the morning is a choice, not a preordained curse.''

''We don't expect you to understand since you were; blessed to be a sober stickler, sir,'' Jasper mumbles.

''Did you make your uniforms shabby because you wish to be isolated today?'' I question them, deadpan.

''No, sir. This is the result of being very short on time and knackered,'' Oliver explains. ''We will fix it when you no longer occupy our time.''

''Fix it now.'' I roll back on my chair and glance at the boys, tautening their ties and brushing off their sleeves, on my way to fetch what they most abhor... Actually, the cane is what they find most abhorrent. The plimsoll takes the second place. I don't consider this an offence deserving of the cane. Perhaps if they came in drunk, although I'd never punish someone; who's under the influence. That's a simple recipe for losing their trust, and potentially a ticket to the hospital for them.

''Sir, I don't have the energy to deal with that,'' Oliver whines.

''This will give you an energy boost."

''No, sir, it takes energy to handle pain, and we don't have it,'' Jasper whines and lingers in his chair, like his mate.

''If it doesn't energise you, you will have time to grab a coffee from the canteen before the next lesson if you don't fuss,'' I spur, motioning them to get up.

''You're not invited; to have coffee with us, sir,'' Oliver mutters.

I expect nothing less than a few resentful comments in these situations and usually overlook them if it's only a mutter. I think it's a valid response. 

And I rather enjoy my coffee in stillness here. I have always described the school canteen as a little hell on earth. The same goes for the teachers' lounge. I prefer spending my breaks alone to recharge from stressful human interaction or with my own students.

Believe it or not, they aren't the most bothersome, immature and witless students at this school.

I make sure the boys stand stably in their positions. I don't intend for them to slip or feel as if they are unsupported by, in this case, a chair. These two have become familiar with the practice and are quite sturdy, so there's rarely ever an issue.

According to the rules I made to suit their bad habit of skipping classes last term, they have earned three each, which is well within their capacity to handle. I was fooled once by them as they overstated their pain. Unfortunately for them, I caught them laughing and battling each other less than 3 minutes later. Over time, my ability to read their reactions to the impact has improved, too.

I never wish to inflict an injury on them, nor trauma. I do care about their well-being and future, after all, and I value the trust I have been given; if I hadn't earned their trust by showing responsibility, judiciousness and skill, they wouldn't be here now.

I walk behind Jasper, take a couple of steps to my left, stand steadily and bend my knees slightly before I aim at him. The lads don't like my studious manner and want it to be over as fast as possible, but I can assure them that a couple of extra minutes is better than being hit in the lower back or even hip. I have avoided accidents by staying attentive and never rushing.

Tapping the sole on him works as an alert - that I am about to start. I draw the plimsoll back to deliver a well-aimed swat. Jasper tenses up, his hands clasp the armrests tighter, and he exhales heavily. I reckon he took it well and step over to Oliver for the same procedure. Then, I continue in a measured fashion.

True to my expectations about Oliver exaggerating, he whines laughably at the 3rd and final hit. Jasper minds his dignity and remains relatively composed, and he nudges his pathetic mate to stop the histrionic manners as they stand up.

''Preferably, you wouldn't get in trouble anytime soon again since I have enough trouble with Bella,'' I say.

''We will try, but remember that curse, sir. What's going to happen to Ladybug? Are you slamming her with a shoe, too?'' Oliver asks.

''No, what happened yesterday is on Bella.''

''Fair, sir. Where is she? Isolation?''

''Yes.''

''Can you unlock our lounge so I can have coffee without paying for it?'' Jasper asks. ''Please, sir?''

I contemplate it for a moment. It gives me an opportunity to keep an eye on them experiencing the aftermath. Not that this was a harsh slippering, or they seem like they are in need of extra care. Nonetheless, it's never a bad idea to show some prudence and look after somebody who just endured a practice like this. ''...Yes.''