His Father sat up in his chair then spoke, "Your punishment, due to your actions, I do believe should be a big one. So, your punishment is going to be that I cannot have you do jobs or volunteering, not even community services. I cannot ground you either, so your punishment will hurt, but the pain will make you listen." He stopped talking and then called for one of the servants, "Richard bring me the rod from my room"
Now twelve year old a was very unhappy he knew he should never have touch his father's rifle.
As Richard entered the room with the rod, a sense of fear washed over the twelve-year-old boy. He instinctively took a step back, realizing that his father's punishment was about to become a physical one.
His father, a stern and disciplined man, stood tall with a stern expression on his face. He took the rod from Richard's hands and held it firmly, his gaze focused on his son. The gravity of the situation sunk in for the young boy, and he knew he had crossed a line that should never have been crossed.
"Drop your pants," his father commanded, his voice cold and emotionless. The boy's heart sank, his palms becoming sweaty. He had seen the rod used on other servants before, and the idea of feeling that pain himself terrified him.
Trembling, the boy did as he was told, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his ankles. He stood there, vulnerable and exposed, bracing himself for the punishment that awaited him.
His father took a deep breath, his disappointment evident in his eyes. With each passing second, the anticipation of pain grew stronger. Swallowing hard, the boy prepared himself for what was to come, knowing that he deserved it for his reckless and irresponsible behavior.
Without warning, his father swung the rod with force, the sound of it slicing through the air echoing in the room. The pain hit the boy's bare flesh, and he cried out, biting his lip to stifle his screams. He clenched his fists, tears streaming down his face, feeling the sting and burning sensation with each strike.
The punishment continued, each lash leaving red welts and a lasting memory etched upon his body. As the rod struck him over and over, the pain intensified until it felt unbearable. The boy's cries turned into sobs, and his resolve to never repeat his mistake grew stronger with every agonizing strike.
Finally, his father stopped, the room filled with heavy silence. The boy's body trembled, his breath erratic as he struggled to regain composure. The pain subsided, but the lesson had been engraved in his mind forever.
His father, still holding the rod, looked at his son with a mix of sternness and compassion. "Remember this pain and the consequences of your actions," he said firmly. "I hope it teaches you the importance of respecting boundaries and making responsible choices."
The twelve-year-old nodded, his face stained with tears and pain etched into his expression. He had learned his lesson, a lesson that would serve as a constant reminder throughout his life. His father's punishment had been harsh, but it had made him understand the gravity of his actions and the necessity of listening and learning from his mistakes.