Tw: Corporal Punishment - Tumblr Posts

Blood Is Thicker Than Water Ch17: Spare The Rod

I'm posting early so I won't have to worry about it while I'm taking my vacation! I don't think "enjoy" is the right word, so I hope you all feel some feelings this chapter >:) I'm dying to see your comments on this one, especially you, naavispider cause this part was inspired by your writing in Caught.

As a reminder, this chapter contains depictions of corporal punishment and medical neglect, so reader discretion is advised. I put a non-graphic summary at the end for anyone who would prefer not to read this chapter. And also, this isn't directed at anyone, but I just want to put out there that this is meant to portray corporal punishment and medical neglect in a NEGATIVE light and I am in no way trying to glorify or fetishize it. If something I wrote comes off that way, please let me know and I will fix it. These actions are done by the villain of this work as the villain needs to do villainous things to create conflict and raise the stakes.

@goodbyetothenight @dumbass-tumbler-cryptid @naavispider @jeanniebug623 @raving-raven-writing @ao3gobi17 @hyperfixatedfandomer @lilt78

Double Trouble, Punishment and Comfort (Part 1)

It was just one of those days...where young lads and lasses just were too curious. 

Madeleine, at 15, like all girls her age, wants to experience new things, see a bit of the world. The glamour and glittering gold of high society was so hypnotizing. Also, she wanted to cast away her shell for one day. Just one day, not being the daughter of Death, and the most eligible girl of the “shame community”. Being one of many, being admired for something other than her dowry. To have a little bit of a blood rush...

Charles on the other hand...The dissection didn’t turn out great. At all. He could barely stop himself from vomiting. It wasn’t that long ago he was plain afraid of corpses. So dissection, it just wasn’t easy. 

The end of the day was not easy. Anne-Marthe was especially furious, dragging Charles to an empty room. She finally let go of him, and seemed more composed, not that it was reassuring. “Charles, remove your clothes now and lay on the table.” she ordered. 

Charles obeyed, knowing full well what awaited him. Half frightened, half relaxed, he laye on his stomach, as usual. He closed his eyes, just to avoid seeing the hellish little wheel. He knew it, he felt it, he did not need to see it. 

Then, the spikes came. It hurt, but it was bearable. If he grit his teeth or his arms, he could endure it without moving. Until the damage reached his lower spine. His sensitive spot. A pure reflex, his back arched quite prominently and he gave out a small kick to the table. “Sensitive spot. Now, get back into position. There’s the other half of your back, Charles.”

That thought alone was depressing. It hurt so much. But he knew better than to run. To hide. To beg. None of those things will work. 

Thankfully, his correction was soon over. Or so he thought. When she gave him the two final turns, Anne-Marthe ordered calmly : “Get up now. Your father will do the second part, in the chamber.”

Charles’s mouth went dry. He already took his correction. “Don’t look at me like that. This is not the first time this happens, doesn’t it ? Nor is it the second time.”

Obediently, the young boy went to the corridor, with just his shift and culottes. The dreaded corridor. Every step made his body tremble. 

Hesitantly, he opened the door. Much to his surprise, his older sister was already there, in nothing but her shift and petticoat, her hair simply braided.

Madeleine swallowed hard. He didn’t blame her. “Just out of curiosity, you are in trouble for what, again ? she asked

-Hum...Trouble with dissection. And you...

-You see, I tried to rejoin the little celebration next door. With the Chartois family and the procureur. It looked pretty open, and plain pretty too, so.” she said. 

Charles widened his eyes in concern. “Did something happen there ? he asked

-Nothing. I think someone got suspicious of who I was, so I ran away before they could figure anything out. Anyways, it was pretty fun until then.”

The younger sibling chuckled. “It was rather dumb of you. Stiff, it shouldn’t warren punishment, and it’s a bit sad the rule was put up in the first place.”

Soon, the third head of the Sanson house arrived. 

Paternal Correction

Based on @cultgirlie

Today was supposed to be a nice day. There were no executions that day, which meant that Jean-Baptiste and other members of the households could concentrate on making medicines without cutting too much on their sleep time. May and June had been the gathering month of many medicinal plants, that had to be gathered anyway. Not that many analgesic plants, as they won’t come until July for most, but some astringents and fortifiants. Plus, most were enthusiastic to help and learn, so it was quite the productive day. 

And it was nice, for the rest of the day. The work lasted until it was almost supper, where Charles-Henri asked afterwards: “Father, can I go for a walk ? My legs are almost healed now.

-Yes.”

Charles of course went on his merry way, and Jean-Baptiste went to nap, until he decided to take a walk by the river himself, like when he was younger. 

There, he went to wash his face in the river where he stumbled upon his eldest son...kissing another boy, in an open field of all places !

After a moment of thought, Jean-Baptiste made himself aware of his presence.

The two boys had the expression of a small child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Upon a closer look, Jean-Baptiste recognized the boy as Jean de Chartois, illegitimate son of his “protector”. 

Back home...

Charles knew punishment was inescapable. 

“Now, you do realize this sort of practice is sinful and forbidden, don’t you ? started to scold Jean-Baptiste

-Yes...But

-No “buts”. Now, this is already warrenting a punishment, but why do this in an open field of all places ?

-It was empty and we thought we were alone...

-And perfectly visible to the first person coming to either take a piss, look for edible herbs, hunt or simply take a walk.”

Charles widened his eyes in realisation of his mistake. He knew what would await him should he be caught by someone other than his father. It just wasn’t worth the risk to his body and soul. 

Jean-Baptiste took some deep breaths. He, at that age, also got into some escapades of his own that could cost him, and his then girlfriend, at best a trip to the Hôpital Général, at worse their souls, and was allowed to learn from his mistakes and both of them received plenty of swift and harsh corrections. 

“Charles, we’ll go to the Torture Room, there, you’ll remove everything. 100 hits, with the stick and birch rods should do the trick.”

Jean-Baptiste knew he needed to punish his son for it, that was sure...He wasn’t happy about it, especially so soon after that brodequin but...

It had to be done. 

The physical punishment lasted about an hour, after which both were exhausted. 

It was now time for the “after-care”. First thing Jean-Baptiste did was to apply a lilac compress to the bruised area, as well as feeding him some rowan vinigar. 

“Now, who is extremely lucky to get away with a mere birching and caning ? asked Jean-Baptiste, mostly to let realization sink in than a true question

-Me

-Good awnser. Now, I have no idea what could possibly have led you to believe entering this sort of relationship with the son of our “protector” possibly be a good idea, so please instruct me ?

-We’re already damned, aren’t we ? A race of hangmen promised to Hell ? So what if I have a little company at the moment...Also, many of the aristocrats also do it.

-You know the title on which we depend require a certificate of “bonne vie et moeurs”. I’ll go investigate the damage tomorrow, now get to sleep. If you are too sore to do so, let the pain realistically reasses your willingness to risk a judicial one.”

Jean-Baptiste left the room, his heart pinched. 

Eat the Rod, Spare the Child (Or Not)

Based on @cultgirlie 

Sometimes, Charles-Nicolas was too tired to take corrections. So, he devised a clever plan: feed Subyss his own birch rod. 

He made sure to come to the emptied torture chamber with nettle, strawberries, eggs and mint to ensure the taste would be well-covered. 

He would feed Subyss the birch rods intended to whip him for his prank. Bad move. 

Unfortunately for him...Subyss arrived at just the worst moment, when he was breaking some of the twigs to get out the sweet inner bark. Half of the rod was already broken to small pieces, the other half covered in egg. 

“Already thouroughly enjoying your birching, Sanson brat ?”

It was bad...Really bad. 

“I didn’t know you absolutely wanted me to use a harsher implement than this. It’s okay, I’ll remember it for the next time.” teased the torturer, caressing his apprentice’s fluffy hair. 

His eyes widened in fear. 

After a brief chase, Subyss took out a large stick. A large, solid stick. It lasted a long, long wile, with Charles-Nicolas forced to stay naked with the fire still unlit. When he tripped, and Subyss whipped remarkably hard for a man of his slender, enuch-like stature, the blow didn’t count, and almost each of them made him fall forward. 

“So much for the Sanson dexterity.” he mocked before leaving the room to fetch some alcohol. 

When he came back for “after care” it stung. It stung so much. Charles-Nicolas felt his entire body shaking uncontrollably. 

It stung, it hurt, his vision was blurry. 

Then, suddenly, Subyss held his arm to him. When he reached, mostly to help himself stand away from the hard stone, the man took back his arm and mocked him as he tripped on bruised flesh. 

“So pathetic !”

Fouet sous la custode

July 5, 1742 Soubise smiled at the little boy who looked at him defiantly. "Was this pigeon at least good? We are in the middle of crayfish season, so I advise you to do your best not to end up in the dungeon. They are very hungry, these crayfish. So, let yourself be whipped, my little. -It's not true ! “Do you want to prove it?” The child was speechless. A little judicial spanking, to the point of bleeding certainly because of custom, nothing could be easier. Soubise was only twenty-five years old, but he was already an experienced questionnaireer, and he knew how to obtain the obedience of his "patients". Fighting physically was useless, he knew how to do it against men twice as strong as himself and he had already seen almost all the escape maneuvers, more or less crude, a good dozen times. Soubise gave a final wash to the fresh birch rods dripping with brine. They were relatively heavy, but less than those used for adult offenders. Jean-Louis widened his eyes in terror. "Come on, I'm not your father. Did you think I was going to use the light rods or my belt, Jean-Louis?"