By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com
Copyright 2025 by Governess, all rights reserved
[2,167 words]´
* * * * *Chapter 74
“But this is an institution, Cordelia! And after all, you did enjoy birching McCourt. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. Very much.”
“So, what made the use of the birch so enjoyable?”
Cordelia thought for a moment.
“I suppose I love its punishing power, Diana. It seems almost alive,
like a cat crouching in the undergrowth waiting to pounce on its prey.
And the way its seems to leap with such eagerness on a boy’s flesh,
that’s like a cat, too. A spanking or a caning attacks the sensitive
surface of a boy’s bottom, but the birch tears at the flesh, leaving
not just marks and bruising, but abrading the skin and leaving a moist
sore redness . And as stroke follows stroke, it opens up little seams
of blood, so the bottom becomes one throbbing sheet of flaming agony.
And there’s something about its appearance. Those lengths of birch
opening up into that punishing spray that a naughty boy comes to dread.
And it seems to be attached to the rest of the stock as though on a
spring. It’s responsive to the slightest flick or twist of the wrist.
And I love that so many boys have been punished with it over the years.
And one glance at a birch tells you that to be effective it has to be
swished across bare flesh.”
“My goodness, Cordelia, you sound
as much an enthusiast as Laura Ravenscourt! But then you don’t want to
repeat that experience in flogging the two boys tomorrow. I’m not sure
I understand.”
Cordelia frowned.
“What I said to
James was that I preferred the tawse as it was an implement that I used
on my own children. And given the boys' ages, it just seemed more
appropriate, particularly as they had already suffered a quite severe
dormitory punishment. But, I suppose, I am not really being consistent.
If McCourt who had also been punished by me was birched, then, I agree
it’s difficult to see a great deal of difference. And McCourt's
birching was simply for running in the corridors.”
Diana nodded.
“I hate to say it, Cordelia, but I agree with you. And the dormitory
punishment you gave to Clough and Graham is not really the sort of
punishment you'd give your own children, is it? I mean, you tied the
pair of them by the hands to the bedhead and smeared their little
genitals with a chilli preparation. And that was after giving them each
a double caning.”
Cordelia gave a little grimace.
“No, I probably wouldn’t go as far as that with my own children.
Although if I discovered Samuel in bed with William and the pair of
them abusing each other, then I’m not sure what I would do. Or Samuel
in bed with his sister. God forbid that that ever happens! But if it
did . . .”
“Well, yes, certainly an exemplary punishment would
be required. But fortunately that’s not something we need to worry
about at the moment. And, hopefully, never.”
“I suppose, I’m
coming round to accepting that the birch would be more than appropriate
for Clough and Graham. Particularly, as it’s a public flogging before
all the boys.”
She paused.
“And what you’ve told me
about Laura Ravenscourt and what she has written have certainly
influenced me. She was a remarkable woman, with a great deal to admire.”
She gave a little smile
“And her reliance on the birch makes me wonder whether Samuel has
reached an age when he might benefit from it. And William, too, given
his recent pattern of poor behaviour. After all, you used it on your
boys with obvious success.”
Diana nodded.
“Yes, we
did. And still do. Our youngest is still birched when home from school.
You may well want to consider the birch for your own children, but you
already use a variety of implements, so I’m not sure adding another
makes a lot of sense. Unless you think a birching offers something
extra.”
“Yes, I wonder why I rely on so many implements. But
then a hairbrush is very different from a tawse, both in its immediate
punishing power and in its associations. I love the hairbrush. It’s the
first taste of painful discipline a child receives. That first time a
boy has his trousers and pants taken down and his bottom bared for a
spanking is very special. And it’s with his mother’s hairbrush. And
whenever it’s taken from its drawer or he is sent to his mother’s room
to fetch it, that is the association. It somehow binds him more closely
to his mother. The mother who tucks him up at night, who kisses him,
and who tends his ills is also the mother who bares his bottom and
beats him until he is wriggling with smart and desperately sobbing. He
understands that spanking Is part of her caring for him. So, when he is
ready for an older boy’s punishment, that is the memory he carries
forward, that a beating is an expression of love even if given with a
cane in a more formal way than a spanking across the knee.”
“That’s interesting, Cordelia. But how else do you think a caning differs from a spanking?”
“Well, as I’ve said, it differs in formality. Holding a little boy
tight across your lap and spanking his bottom is quite different to
having him kneel or be turned over the arm of a sofa. A spanking, even
if painful, provides a sense of security and reassurance. His mother
both inflicts the punishment and supports him through it. A caning is
quite different. He is alone, and unsupported, as she tortures his
flesh, a boy plunged by her into the burning waters of Phlegethon.”
“And a lot of parents would rely just on those two, the hairbrush and
the cane. But your discipline ranges beyond that. Why do you think that
is?”
Cordelia's nose gave a little wrinkle.
That's
something I’d have to think about. I’ve never sat and consciously
wondered whether another implement would offer a better or more
effective punishment. But then, that’s not completely true. When faced
with Samuel’s masturbation, I wrote to my cousin, Camille in Ste Foy
asking her to order a small martinet that would be suitable for lightly
swishing across the little member he was abusing. And at the same time
I asked her to send a full-size traditional martinet that might be used
on Samuel and Elizabeth. But that was more because, the martinet was
used by my mother, and, I have to say, most mothers in Ste Foy. I may
have mentioned that I had inherited my mother’s martinet and had taken
that to the orphanage for use there. Up to then I had never thought of
using a martinet on my children, but as I was writing to Camille I
thought I’d ask her to send one. Perhaps I was reconnecting with my
mother. As you get older these links with the past become more
important.
“And what about the tawse?”
“Yes, as you
know, I use the tawse quite regularly. That came about because Samuel
in his pre-pubertal behaviour was just not applying himself and was
increasingly unco-operative and surly. He needed his discipline beefed
up, and although the cane was in theory up to the job, I thought a
change in practice would be helpful. It would mark my commitment to
seeing that he bucked his ideas up and started behaving in line with my
expectations. So I wrote off for a medium weight tawse and have been
using it ever since.”
She smiled.
“And now after my visit to Cranston's, I have a light weight tawse for William, and two paddles!”
“And that brings us back to the question whether those two boys are to be birched or leathered.”
“Well, you’ll have gathered from what I’ve said that I’m now inclined
to go along with James’s wish they should be birched. If I’m honest, I
was probably being unreasonable and a bit pig-headed. And James, after
all, is the Principal and he ought to have the final say.”
“Well, he’ll certainly be pleased. But I’m sure it was not what he was
expecting. And to tell the truth, I’m a bit disappointed. You may think
you were pig-headed, but so too was James.”
She nodded,
“So why not go for a compromise?”
“A compromise? “
“Yes. How about alternate strokes of the birch and tawse? Or a dozen
with the birch followed by a dozen with the tawse? Some sort of
permutation like that.”
“With the new heavyweight belt that I’ve just got from Crampton's?”
“Yes. That’s why it was purchased, wasn’t it?”
Cordelia smiled.
“Yes. And it would be a shame not to use it.”
“So what pattern would you prefer?”
“Alternate strokes would be awkward, having to keep on changing from
birch to tawse and back again. That is unless two people were working
together.”
She paused.
“How would you feel about that?”
“You mean in principle . . . or in practice?”
“No, in practice. Sharing the job with me.”
“Cordelia, that’s a rather delicious thought.”
“It doesn’t have to be just a thought Diana. But what would James think?”
At that moment there was a rap on the door. And as Cordelia went into the hall, James Fairclough was just entering.
“Apologies for bursting in, Matron, but the door was on the latch.”
“How nice to see you, James. But I thought you were tied up at a Trustees’ meeting.”
“I was, but it ended earlier than I thought, so I came over to see how you and Diana were getting on.”
Diana smiled.
“So how did the meeting with the Trustees go?”
“Short, fortunately, but with an excellent contribution from Mrs
Fitzherbert. I hadn’t realised she had been heading up the girls
reformatory for so long. She has been Principal for ten years this
month.”
“Yes, she told me that at our women’s group last month. She’s a great asset to have on our Board of Trustees.”
She turned to Cordelia.
“Mrs Fitzherbert was a great supporter when James wished to reintroduce
the birch. She runs that girls reformatory of hers with a commendable
strictness. And needs to, given the sort of girls there. A real
mixture. I’m sure that’s true of all girls’ reformatories. Some are
orphans, others out of control, some vagrants, and others moral
delinquents with some as young as nine or ten. But she recognises that
the key to discipline and their reform is regular and unstinting use of
the birch. And she often combines that with other physical discipline
such a kneeling with a straight back on a stone floor or standing on a
stool in silence for several hours.”
She looked at James.
“Something that we might consider using here,”
“Indeed, my dear. But the issue at the moment is how we should proceed tomorrow with those two boys, Clough and Graham.”
Cordelia and Diana looked at each other.
“Yes, James, Cordelia and I have discussed the matter thoroughly and
have concluded that the best approach is for each boy to receive four
dozen strokes. And that these should be given with the boy stretched
over the end of the usual gymnasium buck.”
“And with what implement are those to be given. That after all was, I seem to recall, the bone of contention.”
“Yes. Well, I can tell you that Cordelia has come round to a deeper
appreciation of the value of the birch and confessed that she gained
that from birching McCourt. So yes, she no longer wishes to maintain
her objection to its use to flog both boys tomorrow.”
The Principal smiled.
“I am deeply grateful, Matron, for your understanding. I am sure it is the right decision.”
“However . . . ”
Diana continued.
“ . . . we both consider that the tawse would serve as an excellent
adjunct to the birch in this instance. Cordelia has visited Cranston’s
as we agreed and has purchased a heavier tawse than the one currently
in use in the school. Both of us agree that it would be a pity not to
make use of it. Mrs Cranston was informed of the utter depravity of the
two boys in question and considers a vigorous tawsing a most
appropriate response.”
James frowned and said nothing.
“So . . . ”
Diana continued.
“ . . . so, we both consider that each boy should receive two dozen
strokes with the birch and two dozen strokes of the tawse. Each
implement applied with maximum force to cause as much reforming pain as
possible, recognising as the Book of Proverbs says it is the blueness
of a wound that cleanseth away evil: so do stripes the inward parts.”
Cordelia inwardly smiled. She thought Diana had presented their
decision brilliantly, leaving James to probe further and, in doing so,
implicitly to accept that the course proposed was worthy of
consideration.