By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com
Copyright 2024 by Governess, all rights reserved
* * * * *Chapter 63
Already
Cordelia was feeling a burgeoning eagerness to see William punished.
She watched as Isobel walked across to the boy standing in disgrace
facing the wall.
From the outset, Cordelia had taken
particular pleasure in disciplining her children. It was an aspect of
parenting that she really enjoyed. It was not that she delighted in
cruelty. Indeed, the infliction of pain for its own sake she regarded
with distaste. But discipline was far from that. It was necessary,
salutary and a mother’s duty. She had been spanked as a child and knew,
even then, that she would provide the same robust discipline for her
own children. When she was expecting her first child, it was this
aspect of parenting that she looked forward to more than any other. And
once Samuel had been born, she was eager to commence the process of
rendering him obedient to her will. While still in nappies, if the boy
refused to cooperate, she would smack his thighs with the flat of her
hand, a series of sharp stinging blows that elicited furious crying.
But that was but a stop-gap to the spankings that would follow once he
was trained to the pot. And her eagerness to progress his discipline
meant he had to endure harsh toilet training, rendering him clean soon
after his first birthday. And from then on, every act of defiance meant
his little dress being lifted, and when a little older his trousers
being taken down, for a bare bottom spanking across her knee. And as
his body matured and he began to explore boundaries, so he courted
trouble, and so her discipline increased both in frequency and
severity. Samuel’s disobedience, she regarded, as not only an affront
to her personally but also to the God who had placed her in authority
over him. And just as sin encouraged a boy to deception and
inventiveness, so his mother needed to become equally inventive and
imaginative in her discipline.
From the first, Cordelia had
never regarded spanking as simply the routine action of smacking a
child on his bottom. Spanking was the expression of a love that deeply
respected a child and met his real needs. And discipline was the
essential organising principle of that love. Without it, love would
become a sentimental and damaging expression of affection without
having at its core that steely concern for the child's well-being. And
it was this determination to shape and enhance a boy’s discipline, to
render it effective, that had led her to invite Isobel to spank
William. She had every confidence that she would do so with commitment
and was curious to see how her method in chastising a child differed
from her own.
Isobel gave her a brief smile as she walked across to William standing in disgrace, face to the wall.
“Right William. Time for your spanking. Come and stand over here.”
She removed his jacket and placed it on the counter. Then slipped off
his braces and with his trousers around his ankles, inserted her thumbs
into the waistband of his underpants and pulled them down exposing his
small firm little bottom.
“Step out of them, William.
He did so with difficulty as he had to ease them over his shoes.
Cordelia thought it odd that Isobel had not told him to remove them.
Being disciplined by a strange hand had rendered William unusually
quiet, but despite his lack of vocal protest, Isobel recognised a
lingering resentment and reluctance to obey. And she was not
displeased. Correcting a boy who accepted without demur that he was in
the wrong and fully deserved his punishment was for her a flat and
sterile affair.
All her children had been blessed with a
strength of will that often opposed her own. And she had been grateful
for that. Although disobedience had to be confronted and checked, it
was nevertheless a sign that a child was exercising that precious and
God-given gift of freedom. A boy who was so good that he never
disobeyed would never acquire that resilience of spirit that was so
important for his development. As a muscle needs opposition to
strengthen, so too a boy needs limits that he can kick against. And
unless he does so and the limits are enforced, his development will be
incomplete. Disobedience, she thought, was strangely to be both
welcomed and deplored.
Cordelia watched as Isobel bent down
and untying both his shoes proceeded to knot the laces together, so he
was unable to move from the spot where he stood.
“And hold your hands together in front of you”
Cordelia watched as Isobel unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and then
rebuttoned them with the right button in the left button hole and the
left button in the right button hole. Now his arm movement was
restricted and it was forced to keep his wrists folded in front of him.
Isobel stepped across to the counter and picked up the paddle, and
standing in front of him, smacked it across her palm several times.
“Let me remind you, William, why you are being spanked. Your mother
tells me that over the past few days, you have been punished for
dishonesty and disobedience; and because of a tantrum your
seven-year-old privileges have been taken away. That should have been
sufficient to teach better behaviour. But apparently not. Before
leaving for town this morning, you were again rude and disobedient.”
She paused, again smacking the paddle across her palm, and observing the clear signs of nervous anxiety. She smiled.
“You do know what I am going to do with this paddle, don’t you, William?”
She waited.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what, William?”
“Yes, Mrs Crampton.”
“That’s better. Not replying without addressing someone by name is
rude. And I think you have been rude enough as it is, don’t you,
William? So, what is this paddle for/”
Again, she smacked it meaningfully across her palm.
“Well, then?”
“It . . . it’s for spanking me.”
He coloured up at the word, for it is a word no boy likes to hear, let alone say.
“Yes, for spanking your round, bare little bottom.”
She smiled.
“Until its as red as your face.”
Cordelia knew that Isobel was not only tantalising him, but also herself, as she questioned him further.
“Some boys are foolish enough to run away when a spanking is threatened. And what do you think happens to them?”
“They . . . they would be punished more.”
“Yes. But that’s not going to happen to you, William, is it?”
He looked down in his confusion and shame.”
“No. Because in my kindness I have made sure that you can’t run away.”
She stepped behind him, and he could feel her eyes on his bottom. She
lifted his shirt, together with his vest, and hitched them over his
shoulders. He was whimpering now and trembling as he awaited the first
stroke. For he now knew that he was to be whipped as he stood,
helplessly rooted to the spot, exposed and unable to resist.
“And I suggest you stand keeping your feet together, or you will
tighten the knots making them difficult to untie. And if that happens,
I will be seriously displeased. And I don’t think I have to spell out
what happens to a boy who displeases me.”
And as she
watched, Cordelia remembered all the times as a child she had witnessed
other children being punished. She had often seen her best friend,
Jeanne, spanked by Mme Palomer; and Anna, too, who lived next door. And
she remembered, her own confusion and inner conflict. There was the
horror at seeing a friend bared and squirming as her bottom was spanked
to a dark crimson red; but also a sense of companionship in her
suffering. From the first, seeing a child whipped had held a deep
fascination for her. And while still retaining a concern for her
friend, she knew that even before the whipping had been concluded, she
was looking forward to a repetition. And as she grew older, she
recognised that hers was a nature that fed on such sensuality. And it
was that, combined with a complete lack of sentimentality, that was to
prove such an asset when it came to disciplining her own children. But
now, after so many years, she was again cast in the role of a passive
onlooker. It seemed strange but also strangely pleasurable.
Isobel raised the leather paddle and with a sweeping stroke and a
resounding smack it impacted the boy’s right buttock. William gave a
gasp and thrust his head back. Cordelia noticed how, as Isobel had
said, the narrow neck of the paddle conferred a flexibility, much like
a cane and, with the same devasting consequences. Slowly, almost
caressingly, Isobel applied stroke after stroke, alternating between
each buttock until twelve had been delivered. The red oval marks were
clearly visible and looked red and sore. William was crying noisily.
“You can stop that, William. I want no noisy protesting. If you want to
cry, cry quietly, or you’ll require further punishment.”
She
stepped across to the counter and replaced the paddle, and picked up
its heavier cousin. Again, she stood in front of him and smacked it
across her palm. He looked round at his mother with a desperate look in
tear-filled eyes. She shook her head.
“The paddle was raised, but William, desperate to avoid the stroke, bent his knees and crouched down.
“That sort of defiance, William, is not going to help you avoid punishment”
And taking account of his position, , she brought the paddle sweeping up and under his still exposed buttocks.
“Straighten up, William, before I add another six strokes to the six I’ve already added.”
He heard the smack of the paddle across her palm as she waited. Slowly,
he struggled up. She waited, allowing his anxiety to grow in the face
of her absolute authority over him; and then she continued unhurriedly
until the full complement of twelve strokes had been delivered, with
the additional half dozen she had promised given across the backs of
his thighs. He was sobbing unrestrainedly as she replaced the paddle on
the counter. Isobel turned to Cordelia.
“So, Cordelia, which paddle do you think did the better job?”
Cordelia smiled. The question was almost superfluous.
“Without doubt the second paddle, the heavier one. And that’s the one I’ll be going home with.”
“Undo your shoe laces, William.”
He bent down with bleary eyes struggling to loosen them. And as he did
so, the fleeting thought that perhaps he might be spared further
punishment flitted across his mind. But in, his heart of hearts, he
knew such hope was futile.
“And now off your shoes and socks, William.”
She nodded approvingly as his socks were placed inside his shoes. She
picked them up and placed them on the counter. Then, she undid his
shirt sleeve buttons and allowed his arms to come free. His shirt was
then rucked up over his shoulders.
“Some children are given
the tawse across their hands, William, but when I use it, the tawse is
across a completely bare bottom.”
The shop was large and many
items of saddlery and other leather items were on display. In a
prominent position on a low stand was a saddle. Isobel pointed to it
“I have a saddle on a stand like that in my house. When a boy is to be
whipped, I mount him on the seat of the saddle, facing back, and bend
him forward so that his chest is flat against the slope of the cantle
with his buttocks well spread and his bottom nicely raised and exposed.”
She pointed to the saddle.
“And that, William, is how you are to be whipped.”
He backed away. She grasped him by his shirt collar and forced him to
the saddle and lifting him bodily set him on the seat facing the
cantle. She stepped in front of hm and gave him two stinging smacks to
each cheek.
“I never like smacking a boy across the face,
William, but sometimes it’s necessary to bring a boy to his senses.
This punishment is being given for your own good to teach you to submit
and obey those set in authority over you. And to do it unquestioningly.”
Some regard cleaning a house as a chore and do so with little
enthusiasm. Others take a real pride in the work, getting real pleasure
from polishing taps and leaving floors clean and tidy. And, thought
Cordelia, it was the same with disciplining a child. For some it was a
necessary but unwelcome duty; but for others rendering a child obedient
was deeply satisfying and was embraced with enthusiasm. And there was
no doubt to which camp Isobel Crampton belonged. She clearly believed
spanking was the royal route to a submissive spirit and her pleasure in
applying the paddle to William’s young bottom had been all too evident.
Cordelia had copied, out some years ago, a quotation from a
book by Ann Courtney, a governess, writing a few years earlier, and it
was prominently displayed in her study.
A boy must
swallow the bitter pill of submission, whose healing properties are
released only when he is truly broken and contrite in spirit.
Along
with Eugenia Strang, Ann Courtney was one of her favourite authors. The
quotation had been taken from a book which was entitled Advice to a Young Governess.
Boys
are undoubtedly more straightforward and more outgoing than girls; and
are often warmer and more outwardly loving. They accept the need for
discipline, and when caught in misbehaviour expect to be spanked, even
if they are slow to learn from it and frequent repetition is necessary.
A governess’s relationship with her children should be close and
responsive to their needs. She needs to be demonstrative, and they need
to feel, her warmth and acceptance . . . The child should sense his
governess’s commitment, and even her pleasure. in spanking him. A boy
must swallow the bitter pill of submission, whose healing properties
are released only when he is truly broken and contrite in spirit, and
that is only achieved through a sound and through spanking. But if the
spanking lacks warmth and commitment and is administered reluctantly or
in a cold detached manner this will be achieved at the cost of breaking
the relationship rather than the boy’s spirit.
And
Isobel Crampton clearly fitted into this mould. There was no doubting
her pleasure in punishing William, and also her warmth and affection
for him even after so short an acquaintance.
She turned to Cordelia.
“I always remind myself that boys are not like dogs. Dogs don’t choose
to obey. For a dog obedience is a trick to be learned. But a boy is
different. A boy has to choose obedience. And if he grows up despising
authority, then his life will be full of difficulty and suffering. As
parents, we need to provide punishment to help children learn to
respect their mother’s will, and indeed all those in authority over
them. To my mind, the worse sort of disobedience and disrespect is to
resist punishment. For it is punishment that is the guiding principle
that leads to the choosing of obedience over disobedience.”
Cordelia nodded.
“I completely agree with you, Isobel. Punishment marks out what is
sinful and unacceptable. A sound whipping should not only mark the
flesh, but sere the soul and strengthen the will to to do what is
right. A boy who despises punishment is turning from the light into the
realm of darkness. Of course, no boy welcomes punishment and it should
be something he fears. But at the same time, he needs to co-operate and
accept it as necessary and for his own good.”