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Alfred Pennyworth was a simple man at the core of it. He believed in everyone's worth as a person. Even the worst person was redeemable, though whether they wanted that redemption or not was a different matter entirely. He understood that, sometimes, people needed direction to that path. When he could, he provided guidance and correction.
Was he strict? In a manner, yes. Was he old-fashioned? By many measures, it was another yes. But that was what made his techniques work. Good old-fashioned elbow grease and an unwavering sense of right and wrong.
That was part of why he had been entrusted with Master Bruce's care. He knew how to raise the boy to be an upstanding citizen. There was no question about it.
While the boy was young, Alfred deferred discipline to his parents. While Alfred helped tend to the boy, his parents preferred to be more involved than the average well-to-do family. They specifically requested he hold his hand.
Once his parents were gone, Alfred stayed the course on what Bruce's parents had wanted. The boy was well-behaved, if traumatized. It may have partly been the trauma that kept the boy in good manners. Unfortunate. Very unfortunate.
It all changed in young Bruce's teenage years…
"Oh, yes. I understand." Alfred nodded to no one, knowing the person on the other end of the phone couldn't see him. "I shall tend to the issue."
"Good!" The headmistress grumbled, "I know Bruce has had a difficult time after the unfortunate, ah, accident his parents were in…" Alfred nearly corrected her. He chose to hold his tongue; no need to rile her up more than she already was. "...but that doesn't excuse his behavior!"
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," he soothed, hoping to calm the woman enough to keep this from marking Bruce's record.
"You'd better." She seemed to take a moment to think. "I'll trust you to deal with it this time."
The unspoken threat did not go unnoticed. "Thank you for your patience."
"You're welcome. Goodbye, Mr. Pennyworth."
"Goodbye." Alfred carefully set the phone back down on the receiver.
How troubling. It was very unlike Bruce, to do anything that broke the rules such as this. Picking a fight at his private school was downright thuggish.
Alfred sighed. He'd used a soft hand on the boy thus far in memory of his parents. It seemed that it was time to do things the way he'd been raised.
He was standing by the door when Bruce returned from school. It was obvious he'd been in a fight; he had a bloody lip and a developing shiner. Odds were that Bruce used his height advantage, a development of his spurts of growth from puberty, to an effective degree. Disappointment flitted through Alfred as he took in the state of the boy. Bruce knew better than that.
"Alfred…" Bruce looked defiant as he said, "They started it! They-"
"That is not the way things are done," Alfred interrupted. "It doesn't matter who started what. You know better than that. Both myself and your parents raised you better than that."
"My parents are dead," Bruce countered with a wavering voice. Alfred, however, knew his master well. There wasn't any actual emotion there. Bruce was sad that his parents were dead, but at the moment he was trying to use it as a way to get out of trouble.
"Bruce. Come with me." Alfred's tone brooked no argument. Bruce must have understood as he quietly followed Alfred through the mansion.
Alfred led Bruce to Bruce's bedroom. In it, Alfred waved Bruce in before shutting the door behind him.
"You need to be punished," Alfred said sternly. "You need to understand that actions such as the ones you took have consequences." He walked over to the ornate chair settled next to the bureau and pulled it to the middle of the room. "Bruce. Come here."
Bruce was hesitant but did as he was told. He stood next to Alfred apprehensively. Alfred wasted no time in taking his young master and setting him to lay on his legs. It was a tad awkward considering how large his charge was. Alfred positioned the boy just so to make the discipline sink in.
"What are you-" Bruce started to say as Alfred raised his hand.
Wap!
"AH!" Bruce struggled in Alfred's lap after the blow to his rear was delivered. Alfred kept a solid grip on him as he raised his hand again.
Wap!
Bruce let out another cry as Alfred's hand met his bottom. Alfred knew it hurt, and hurt solidly. His father had taught him how to properly administer a spanking. It had come in handy with previous clients. And now, once again, it was proving its worth.
Alfred delivered another smack to Bruce's bottom. The boy squirmed hard. He knew, however, to stop trying to get out of Alfred's grasp. This was his punishment, after all.
Alfred snapped his wrist at the angle his father had taught him for the later blows. It gave an extra bit of force on the end delivery after a time when the pain may have numbed. Bruce was obviously crying by that point. His screams of pain echoed slightly.
It went on like that for a good while. Bruce had eventually accepted the punishment. Finally, after a good half-hour of discipline, Alfred deemed it enough. He was certain Bruce understood now.
He stood, slinging Bruce's arm around his shoulders as he went. Alfred knew full well that a spanking like that would leave Bruce's read too sore to properly walk. He aided his master to the plush bed. There, Bruce laid out without letting his rear touch the bed.
Alfred sat down on the bed next to Bruce. There, he pulled the boy into a hug.
"There. I hope that you understand why I had to do that?"
"I...I think so." Bruce sounded unsure. It wasn't a surprise; this was the first time Alfred had given him corporal punishment. He was likely trying to process all of it.
"You're a good boy most of the time, Bruce. Please don't make this a pattern." Alfred felt no need to say the unsaid. Bruce was a bright boy. He would know that this would repeat if he misbehaved again.
"I won't," Bruce replied, hugging Alfred tighter.
"Good."