By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com
Copyright 2024 by Governess, all rights reserved
* * * * *Chapter 61
It was a bright clear morning and, as the curtains had
not been completely pulled, the sun awoke Cordelia soon after six. She
went downstairs and made a cup of tea and took it into her little
study. After reading her Bible and saying prayers she reviewed the day
ahead. The highlight would be going into Hetherton and visiting
Crampton’s the new saddlers. There was something about saddlers that
she found immensely attractive: there was the smell of the leather, and
the saddles, bridles and crops, all spoke of breaking an animal and
rendering it subject to a rider’s will. And the tawses were similarly
to break the will, not of an animal, but of a boy, to school him to
obey every word and command of his mother.
As it was
Saturday, the children had lessons throughout the morning, but Cordelia
decided that, nevertheless, William should accompany her into town. He
had been increasingly difficult over recent weeks and she suddenly felt
an inexplicable urge to keep him under a firm disciplinary eye. At
seven years he had reached an age when a boy becomes restive under
authority and that needed some dramatic means of reinforcement.
At breakfast, she informed the children of her plan. Elizabeth immediately had a sulky look on her face.
“But why can’t I go, too, Mother?”
“Because I have decided otherwise, Elizabeth. You and Samuel will
attend class as usual, and that’s the end of the matter. And if you
don’t take that look off your face, you end up over my knee. Now both
of you get ready for school.”
“But why are we going into town, Mother?”
“You will find out when we get there, William. But we are going
shopping, and I thought it might be a good idea for you to accompany
me.”
She went and wrote a note to William’s form teacher and
also a note to the Principal suggesting they discuss the outcome of her
visit to Crampton’s at her house that afternoon at half past two. She
gave both notes to Elizabeth to deliver.
After Elizabeth and
Samuel had left for their classes, William was put on the pot. When it
came to wiping his bottom, he pleaded that he might do it himself.
“Don’t be ridiculous, William. A two-year-old is not capable of wiping his own bottom. Come here. And over my lap.”
Pulling a face and showing his obvious resentment, he reluctantly did
as he was told. She wiped him non too gently, screwing the paper well
into his anus. He was, slow in putting on his coast, and needed to be
reprimanded for his sulkiness.
“William, I am simply not
prepared to put up any longer with your rudeness and tardiness, and you
can look forward to a sound spanking on our return.”
Soon
after nine o’clock they set out with Cordelia holding a rather sulky
William by the hand. After about half an hour, they arrived in
Hetherton. Diana’s instruction had been quite clear, and turning left
at the bank into Cleveland Row, they found Crampton’s on the right. And
there in the window on display, as Diana had said, were several tawses.
As they entered the shop, a bell rang, and a woman, probably in her early forties, came through from the back.
“Good morning, Madame. And how may I help?”
“I take it that you are Mrs Crampton? Is that right?”
“Yes. Isobel Crampton. And is it riding equipment that you are after?”
Mrs Lavington smiled.
“No, not riding equipment. I see you have a selection of tawses in your
window. I am Cordelia Lavington and the Matron at St Oswald’s
Orphanage. And this is my son, William.”
“And is the tawse for William? I am sure we can find something suitable. How old are you, William?”
“I’m seven, please, Mrs Crampton.”
“Seven! That’s an age when a boy can be particularly naughty. Are you ever naughty, William?”
He reddened.
“Per . . . perhaps sometimes, Mrs Crampton.”
She smiled.
“Sometimes? I expect it is more than sometimes. And how are you naughty?”
“I . . . I can be disobedient.”
“Yes, like most small boys. And what does your mother do when you’re disobedient?
He was blushing now.
“Sh . . . she spanks me.”
“I am sure she does”
She turned to his mother.
“I have only to look at his face to see he is well disciplined.”
Cordelia gave a smile and nod of assent.
“So, tell me how you are spanked, William.”
William’s face was now visibly hot and he seemed on the point of tears. He looked down.
“Come along, William. It is a straightforward question. Tell Mrs Crampton how you’re spanked?”
Mrs Crampton waited, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
“W . . . with a hairbrush, please, Mrs Crampton.”
“And are your trousers taken down?”
“Ye . . . yes.”
“Right down? And your pants, too? Spanked on a completely bare bottom?”
He nodded. He was now red to the tips of his ears and twisting his hands nervously.
“And are you a good boy after you have been spanked.”
“Yes, Mrs Crampton, yes, I am.”
“Always?”
His chest was tight now and he felt he could hardly breathe.
“Per . . . perhaps not always.”
Cordelia felt her pulse quicken as she listened to this interrogation.
She recognised in Mrs Crampton a kindred spirit. A mother who believed
in the need to keep small boys on a tight rein: that like young colts,
they need to be broken to bit and bridle.
“William, Mrs
Crampton, is both slow to learn his spellings and slow to learn
obedience. And is often disrespectful and impolite. So, at the moment,
spankings are a regular feature of his life. And as he was thoughtless
and disobedient before we left the house this morning, a spanking, or
worse, awaits him on our return.”
Mrs Crampton smiled.
“Let me show you something, Mrs Lavington.”
She reached beneath the counter.
“This is a leather paddle, specially designed for spanking small boys”
She handed it to Cordelia.
“So, what about that for spanking William?”
“Well, it’s very different from the hairbrush I use at present.”
Mrs Crampton smiled.
“As you can see, it is similar to a hairbrush in shape, although
possibly a little larger. The oval part is flat and smooth like a
hairbrush but where it narrows into what would be the handle of the
brush, it is not rigid but flexible. So, it magically combines the
smack of a hairbrush with the flexibility of a cane. Of course, as with
a hairbrush or cane, you can use your wrist to apply additional
momentum, and t speed it to its target even more effectively. But
unlike a hairbrush there is little deep bruising, My boys when they
were William’s age treated it with great respect,.”
Cordelia
took it from her. She immediately found that Mrs Crampton was right.
Several times she flicked it up and brought it down with a resounding
smack across the counter. She nodded.
“I see what you mean about its sharing the property of a cane, Mrs Crampton.”
She turned to William.
“So, how would you like that across your bottom, William?”
The boy looked down, his face still visibly hot.
“Take it home, Mrs Lavington, and as William is due for a spanking, you can try it out.”
Cordelia nodded.
“That is very kind of you, Mrs Crampton. But why don’t I spank the boy here?”
“Well, I see no objection to that. We are alone, and I can pull down
the blind and turn the notice round to ‘closed’ for the next
half-an-hour or so. Would you be happy to spank him in the shop or
would you prefer to punish him privately in another room?”
“No, here will be fine. I can sit on this upright chair.”
Isobel Crampton stepped across to the door and turned over the open sign and pulled down the blind.
“Have you children of your own, Mrs Crampton?”
“I have, Mrs Lavington. Four boys.”
“And I gather from your conversation with William, that you spank them?”
“Yes, three are still spanked, or get the tawse; and I always insist on
a completely bare bottom. However, the older boy hasn’t needed to
punished like that for over a year now.”
Cordelia nodded. She thought for a moment. Perhaps this was the opportunity she was looking for.
“It may seem a strange request, Mrs Crampton, but would you be prepared
to demonstrate the use of paddle by spanking William yourself, here in
the shop?”
Mrs Crampton looked surprised.
Well, if that is your wish, Mrs Lavington. Yes, I’d be very happy to do so.”
“No, Mother. Please no.”
“I wouldn’t question my word, William, if I were you. You are in enough
trouble as it is. Mrs Crampton is acting with my authority, and you
will do exactly as she says.”
Mrs Crampton came round the
counter and sat on the upright chair. She beckoned William to her and
spoke to him in a firm, but reassuring manner.
“Your mother has asked me to spank you, William. Why do you think that is?”
“P . . . please, M . . .Mrs Crampton . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Have you ever been spanked by anyone other than your mother?”
He hung his head.
“I . . . I’ve been caned by Mr Greaves.”
“And that was in school, in the classroom?”
“Yes, Mrs Crampton.”
“But that was different, wasn’t it. Your mother hadn’t asked Mr Greaves
to cane you, had she? He chose to cane you himself because you had
misbehaved. But your mother instead of spanking you herself has asked
me to spank you. So why do you think she’s done that?”
Through his tears, he stammered out his reply.
“I . . . I . . . don’t know”
Then, let me tell you what I think. You have been naughty and
disobedient so often and she has had to spank you so often, without
your learning to be a better more obedient boy, that she can see you
need the shock of being spanked by someone else.”
She smiled.
“And it will be a shock won’t it, William? You may not like Mummy’s
spankings but she’s your mummy. But I’m not your mummy and I may have
very different ideas about how a boy of your age should be punished. No
boy likes having his trousers and pants taken down, but having his
little bare bottom spanked by someone who is not his mummy, well that
going to be so very much more shameful And all with Mummy’s approval
and with her watching.”
She looked at Cordelia who nodded
“So, let’s see that little bottom, shall we? Take off your coat and lay it on the counter.”
He did so, reluctantly and with a bad grace, which did not do unnoticed.
“And now off with your shoes and socks. And you can take that look off
your face, William. I know how to deal with boys who look like that!”
Slowly she made him remove every item of clothing, except his short
cotton vest. The shop was not cold but he gave an involuntary shiver.
Mrs Crampton was looking intently at William’s bottom.
“I can see that the boy has recently been more than spanked, Mrs Lavington.”
“Yes, he was spanked for omitting to read his Bible story but as he lid
about that, I had occasion to cane him. But that’s not the whole story
is it, William?”
He looked at her imploringly, his face hot and tear-stained
“Please, Mother.”
“Tell, Mrs Crampton how you behaved when you were spanked for neglecting your Bible story.”
He could barely speak.
“I . . . I had a tan . . . tantrum.”
“Yes, you threw yourself on the floor and behaved like a little two-year-old.”
Mrs Crampton shook her head.
“And how did your mother deal with that, William?”
He was weeping now, slow hopeless tears of desperation in the face of such shaming, remorseless questioning.
“Answer Mrs Crampton, please, William.”
He gulped back his tears.
“I . . . I have to wear a nappy at night and . . . and have to sit on a
pot, and . . . and I have to be fed my food on . . . on a spoon.”
Mrs Crampton nodded.
“And quite right, too. It is no less than you deserve. I hope you
appreciate that, William. And your mother has already told me that
before leaving this morning you were again rude and disobedient. So,
what happens to rude, disobedient boys?”
“They are spanked.”
“Exactly. And in view of such a catalogue of misbehaviour, spanked very severely indeed
She went behind the counter and came back with a different paddle to the one she had shown earlier.
“We make the paddle in two sizes, Mrs Lavington This is heavier. It is
not appreciably larger, but the end that’s of more interest to the boy
is thicker and harder. It still has the same flexibility as the lighter
version but the impact as it smacks a bare bottom is significantly more
painful.”
She handed it to Cordelia who took it with a frown. She flicked it up and brought it sharply down across her palm.
“Well, that packs a good sting. In view of his repeated bad behaviour, I suggest you punish him with that.”
She turned to her son.
“Have you anything to say, William?”
Through tears, he again pleaded to be spared, but his mother shook her head.
“No, William. You will be spanked by Mrs Crampton and I want no more fuss about it.”
“Stand facing the wall over there, William. I’ll deal with you in a moment. First, I want a word with your mother. ”