By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com
Copyright 2025 by Governess, all rights reserved
[2,307 words]´
* * * * *Chapter 80
Cordelia woke early
and was soon in her little study reading her Bible and saying her
morning prayers. She asked for particular guidance to speak effectively
into the hearts of the boys in chapel, and the strength to provide the
flogging that would help Clough and Graham to pursue in future a life
of continence, and that would fill all those who saw it with the fear
of God, so they too would be similarly moved to live a sober and
righteous life.
After breakfast they set out for Sunday
chapel. As Matron took her seat she was aware of the gentle background
hum of low conversation as she cleared her mind and prepared for the
talk she was to give to the assembled boys. As usual the service was
Matins and the sermon came at the end immediately after the Collect for
Grace.
O Lord, our heavenly Father, Almighty and
everlasting God, who hast safely brought us to the beginning of this
day: Defend us in the same with thy mighty power; and grant that this
day we fall into no sin, neither run into any kind of danger; but that
all our doings may be ordered by thy governance, to do always that is
righteous in thy sight; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Cordelia smiled. A most appropriate introduction to her sermon, she
thought. How many boys, she wondered, completed a day that was
completely righteous in the sight of the Lord? Few if any. Slowly,
Matins unfolded with the Venite, the Te Deum, and the Benedictus
together with the appointed readings from both Old and New Testaments.
At last Cordelia rose from her seat.
“Good morning, boys. I
don’t think, as Matron, I need any introduction. Most of you have
visited my infirmary, some of you have even enjoyed a comfortable night
there . . .
She smiled
“ . . . and some have enjoyed
a much less pleasant visit being spanked with my hairbrush which, I
understand, has acquired quite a reputation. And deservedly so. In the
book of Proverbs it says
Withhold not correction from a
child: if you beat him with the rod, he will not die. If you beat him
with the rod, you will save his soul from hell.
And that
is always my intention. To beat a boy to the point when he truly
believes he is going to die. And any boy who has been punished by me
can testify to that. Whether he has been spanked with my hairbrush, or
beaten with the cane or with my leather tawse, his bare little bottom
is smarting as though it’s on fire and he is sobbing and screaming and
believes that if he receives another stroke, he will die. But still the
whipping continues, stroke after remorseless stroke, until he is
utterly spent, exhausted and believes he has arrived in Hell. But he is
not in Hell. He is not dead. He has only looked into the fiery waste of
that Satanic realm. He is still alive. And hopefully has learnt better
behaviour and an obedient spirit.”
She smiled.
“But
boys are slow to learn. And he lives to be flogged again. And probably
again and again. For the experience of near death is soon forgotten and
needs to be repeated. Repeated whenever necessary. And each time, I
make sure that the experience of taking that boy to the gates of death
and letting him look into that burning pit of suffering is ever more
terrible. Only so, will a boy learn to fear evil and do good.”
In the second row where he believed it was less obvious was a boy wriggling and whispering to his companion.
“Robertson! I am sure what you are whispering to Hamilton is far more
interesting than anything I have to say. Perhaps you would like to
share it with us. Come out here.”
Reluctantly and red to the ears, the eight-year-old stepped forward, biting his lip, and visibly trembling.
“Well?”
“N . . . N . . . Nothing, please, Matron.”
“Are you saying that you said nothing? Or do you mean that what you whispered to Hamilton is nothing to do with me?”
“I . . . I mean it’s nothing of . . . of any importance.”
Well, however trivial you may think it, Robertson, your rudeness and
your lack of attention mean that when I’ve finished with you, your
bottom will be a mass of red throbbing weals. Take off your clothes,
all of them . Fold them neatly and place them on that chair. And you,
Hamilton, go to the infirmary and ask for the infirmary tawse, and
bring it to me.”
She turned back to the assembled boys.
“So, before that unfortunate interruption, I was saying that when I
whip a boy, I make sure his suffering is so unbearable that he believes
he is dying. Many of you have experienced that. Few have probably seen
another boy enduring such suffering at my hands. Well, this morning,
that will be remedied. At the conclusion of this service, we will all
proceed to the main hall where two boys, Clough and Graham, will be
flogged, severely flogged. They are the two boys who for the past few
days have been wearing placards around their necks proclaiming their
sin.”
She pointed into the assembled boys and beckoned.
“Clough and Graham, come out here and stand where all the boys can see you.”
Both came forward, red-faced and nervous.
“Stand facing the rest of the chapel. And you Robertson, what do these placards say?
Robertson was finding it difficult to speak. All his thoughts were on
the tawse that his companion had been sent to fetch from the infirmary.
“Come along Robertson. You can read can’t you?”
“It . . . it says
I am to be birched for bedding another boy.”
“And do you know what that means, Robertson? Would you like to explain it to the other boys here in the chapel?”
Robertson looks desperate, his eyes wide and his cheeks crimson.
“Please, Matron.”
“Oh, come along, Robertson. I refuse to accept you don’t know what bedding another boy means.”
She looked at him, her eyes narrowing.
“Have you ever been in bed with another boy, Robertson? Taken that soft
little naked body of yours into someone else’s warm inviting bed?
Snuggled up to him? Let his hand wander down between your legs?”
The boys in the chapel watched as she reached out and hooked her finger under his scrotum and pulled him closer.
“And what does that hand do that wanders down between the legs Robertson?”
He stiffened as he felt her hand around the little sac of his boyhood,
gently squeezing it. Every boy in the chapel was holding his breath.
Some could feel their own little members stiffening; others were
touching themselves, imagining they were in Robertson's place, naked,
burning in shame.
“Come along, Robertson. What does that hand do?”
Robertson knew he was caught in the sticky web of her interrogation.
“He . . . he’d touch me, until it felt . . . it felt nice . . . Matron.”
She smiled.
“And who is the ‘he’, Robertson?”
At that moment, Hamilton returned with the tawse. Cordelia held it
halfway down its length and drew it slowly through her left hand.
“Robertson was telling me about being stroked and masturbated in bed, Hamilton.”
She waited, staring at him intently, unsettling him, and watching as he coloured up.”
“It would be best if you told me everything, Hamilton.”
“It . . . it wasn't my idea Matron. It really wasn’t”
She nodded and smiled encouragingly.
“So, what happened?”
“Robertson came over to me after lights out and got into my bed and told me to . . . to touch him.”
“I see. That was very wrong of him. But you did as he asked?”
“Ye . . . yes. I did, Matron.”
“And why was that?”
“He said if I didn’t he’d really hurt me and . . . and I believed him.”
“Well, he’s standing there naked with not a stitch of clothing on, and I have a tawse here. Do you think I should beat him?”
“I . . . I don’t know . . . Matron.”
“Well, I am sure I should.”
She paused.
“And I’m afraid, Hamilton, you will need to be beaten, too. You should
have refused Robertson’s blandishments, and the following morning
reported him to me. But you chose to take the easy way out. And no
doubt enjoyed doing so. Soon, in the hall, you will see how serious
bedding a boy is. when Clough and Graham are punished. But for now, you
will receive just a foretaste of what I have in store for you at a
later date.”
She pointed to a spot in full view of the assembly.
“Kneel, Robertson. Bend forward, press your forehead against the floor and raise your bottom.”
She was relishing the strokes she was about to inflict on the prostrate
boy, aware of the dampness between her legs, and a strange sense of
enlargement. She again ran the tawse through her hand before sweeping
it up and, with a flick of her wrist, brought it speeding down. The boy
gave a roar and started to rise. But immediately she lashed the tawse
across his back forcing him to resume position.
“Robertson, if I have to ask Hamilton to straddle you, I will be doubling the punishment.”
He drew his knees closer and hunched his shoulders, as though trying to
huddle into a place of safety. But remorselessly, the flogging searched
him out and continued until his bottom was red and marked by two dozen
strokes of the thick leather tails.
Get up and stand over
there, while I deal with your companion in your sinning. He stood naked
and ashamed, the eyes of all upon him. In the back two rows sat the
girls. Elizabeth among them. When her mother had threated to hold
Robertson in position with another boy straddling him, she remembered
vividly how she had straddled William as he was caned. And as the
flogging of Robertson proceeded, her hand went under her dress and
slipped up beneath the leg of her knickers, and a finger penetrated the
lips of her vulva . . .
Hamilton was now being addressed by her mother.
“Tell me Hamilton, which hand did you use to masturbate Robertson?”
He indicated the right.
Take off your jacket; and roll up your shirt sleeves. And place the right hand over the left.”
And she lashed the tawse across his right hand. The stroke felt as
though his hand had been plunged into a fire. He howled and shook the
small frail extremity, but nothing seemed to assuage the burning pain.
Cordelia waited patiently until he had placed the left hand over the
right for the next fearful stroke. Twelve in all, given alternately to
each extended palm. At the end, he sank to his knees, sobbing and
broken. Two punishments, she thought, that were a fitting prelude to
the flogging that Clough and Graham were to receive shortly in the
hall. She looked out at the assembled chapel. All were silent. Some
were flushing at the shameful and demeaning punishment inflicted on the
boys; others were quivering with an inner thrill; others were stiff
with excitement. Elizabeth could feel the wet between her legs and was
already anticipating the even greater thrill of physically restraining
Clough and Graham as they writhed helplessly across the vaulting horse.
“You may dress Robertson. And you, Hamilton, roll down your sleeves and fasten your cuffs. Both of you, return to your seats.”
As they started to do so, she called them back.
“There is just the matter, Robertson, of what you were whispering to
Hamilton which has landed both of you in such trouble. So what was it?
Robertson?”
“Nothing Matron.”
“Robertson, my patience is wearing thin. ‘Nothing’ is not an answer I am prepared to accept.”
She turned to Hamilton.
“You tell me, Hamilton. What was it Robertson whispered to you. And I
want an honest answer. Or would you prefer a further dozen strokes of
the tawse? I’m waiting.”
The boy knew he had to reply. Earlier
he might have made something up, but after the strapping he had
received and the pain and confusion that had engendered, he simply,
weakly, told her the truth.
He . . . he said . . . ”
Archbishop Cranmer had willingly plunged a hand into the fire, but
Hamilton’s face was contorted by reluctance, his hands twisting
nervously.
“Come along, Hamilton, we are all eager to hear what Robertson said.”
“P . . . please, Matron he said ‘D . . . do you think she is wearing . . . wearing red knickers?’”
There was an audible gasp around the chapel together with a few sniggers. Cordelia smiled sweetly.
“Well, let me reassure you, Hamilton, and you, too, Robertson, that I
am not wearing red knickers. Not that the colour of my undergarments is
any concern of yours. However, after you have paid a visit to my office
tomorrow, there will be two bare little bottoms that will certainly
look as though they are wearing red knickers. And as I will be standing
you outside my infirmary face to the wall for the rest of the day,
everyone will have the pleasure of witnessing that. Now return to your
seats.”
Clough and Graham remained standing with the placards around their necks announcing their sin.
“In a moment, we will proceed to the hall. However, Clough and Graham
will accompany me to the infirmary to prepare for their ordeal, along
with Elizabeth Lavington. Now, everyone kneel for our concluding
prayers.”