Miss Strang Chapter 33
By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com

Copyright 2009 by Governess, all rights reserved

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 33

While Simon was immersing his feet alternately in the hot and cold water, Miss Strang went to fetch a towel and a tin of embrocation. She then knelt and gently dabbed his feet dry. Then kissed each foot in turn.

"And now, Simon, I am going to rub some embrocaton into each foot. It has arnica in it and will be soothing and help to reduce the bruising."

I had often thought about the descriptions of God that I had heard in church. On the one hand he was a burning flaming justice, expelling Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, visiting affliction on the Children of Israel, hating sin and consigning unrepentant sinners into a fiery hell. But then we were also told that God was like Jesus, who cared for us, who blessed little children, who loved us so much that he died for us. I had often puzzled over this. But in Miss Strang I could see a demonstrable reconciliation. The two were united in her person. A fiery justice, exacting its due, punishing and wealing tender flesh; combined with a loving tenderness that stooped in compassion to the suffering victims of necessary retribution.

She finished applying the embrocaton to Simon's feet, and held them in her hand. He looked at her. The relief that payment for his sin was complete, and that his tormentress had been transfigured into a comforter showed in his eyes. I thought again of how unlike our mother Miss Strang was. How her love was real and unsentimental and ready to apply the harsh reforming discipline that a child needed. I thought of how the mother of those Turkish children had come to watch their governess beat them on the soles of their feet. Had come to watch them suffer and to writhe in payment for their naughtiness. It was not something our own mother would have dreamt of doing. And yet I could understand it. I could imagine myself doing it.

Miss Strang stood up.

"Many governesses would put you back on the leash, Simon. Do you think I should do that? Stand up, please."

He got up and stood before her, looking at her piteously.

"But will you, Simon? That is the question. Has strapping your feet taught you to obey? To do as you are told instantly? To stand where you are told to stand? Or do you need further correction?"

He shivered, plunged once more into despondency. Facing the prospect of being reattached to the leather leash, being treated like a little dog, probably having to eat his food off the floor before all of us.

Miss Strang looked at him.

"So what can you do to convince me that from now on you will be an obedient boy?"

He was desperate now, not knowing what she wanted to hear, but willing to promise anything that would spare him further humiliation.

"Please, I . . . I . . don't know . . . Miss Strang."

She smiled.

"Nor do I, Simon. I think I have to trust that you will have learned from the correction you have received. And that you will so fear further correction that you will not disobey again."

She opened her desk and reached into it. In her hand was a small paper bag. She opened it.

"Now Simon what was the colour of the buttons that you chose in Pickersgill's?"

"Ple . . . please, Miss Strang. Green."

She smiled.

"Well these are blue. She returned them to her desk, selected the right bag, and then tipped the green buttons into her palm.

"Hold out your hand, Simon."

He extended it, as though fearing punishment. But she counted five buttons into his hand.

"Five buttons, Simon. At the end of each day, before bedtime, starting from tomorrow, I will ask you for a button. If at any time you disobey me again, before all the buttons are returned to me, you will be flogged. And I mean flogged with a birch rod. Just as you saw John flogged. Do you understand?"

His face tightened and he looked suddenly pale and anxious.

"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."

She paused.

"And I hope it is not necessary."

She smiled.

"And you had better keep those buttons safe, until all are returned."

Looking decidedly anxious, he placed them carefully in his desk.

I looked at Simon's small but softly rounded bottom and felt a nervous excitement rising within me at the prospect of his being flogged. He was only seven, a small boy, and the thought of his being birched at such a young age seemed to me, then, exceptionally severe, if not cruel. I felt breathless as I imagined the bound lengths of birch cutting and marking the smooth, firm flesh that swelled out at the base of his back.

Miss Strang glanced at the clock.

"Simon, go and dress for supper, please. And Livia call in John and see that he changes into suitable clothes for the meal."

I did as I was bid. Supper was uneventful. John was chided several times for wriggling, but Miss Strang chose not to make an issue of it. Simon was not surprisingly rather subdued. He was clearly finding walking painful. Wearing shoes must have added to his discomfort.

After supper, when the usual formalities of bedtime had been completed, Simon was sent to bed. Miss Strang turned to John.

"John go to your room and change into your nightshirt, please. I will be in to see you in fifteen minutes time."

Fifteen minutes were more than enough for John to change, but Miss Strang knew the benefit of making a boy wait and anticipate her coming. She may not have reminded him, but I was sure he had not forgotten that his hands were to be strapped before bed.

When fifteen minutes had passed, Miss Strang stood up and smoothed down her dress.

"Livia, I would like you to accompany me, please."

Suddenly I felt nervous. When we entered John's bedroom he was standing in his nightshirt looking out of the window.

"Sit on the chair, John. I have some questions to ask you. I think Livia will also be interested in your replies."

He looked nervous, but probably not as nervous as I now felt.

"John, when Livia was sent to supervise you in the schoolroom, when you were seated on the chamber pot, did you obey her and do as she said?"

He hung his head and bit his lower lip. He looked trapped.

"It will be better for you if you are completely honest with me, John. Did you do exactly what Livia asked you to do or did you argue with her?"

I could tell immediately that he thought I had broken our agreement to say nothing to Miss Strang about what had transpired. He looked at me questioningly. There was a pause as he weighed his words. He started to speak and then stopped, and then after further reflection answered.

"Livia said I was rude."

"And why was that? Did you argue with her?"

"Yes. I didn't see why she should tell me what to do."

"Please add 'Miss Strang' when you reply to me, John."

She waited with eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"So you saw no reason to obey Livia even though you knew that she came with my authority. Is that right?"

"Yes . . . Miss Strang."

She turned to me.

"And how exactly was he rude, Livia?"

"He told me that I was sounding just like you. And when I told him that you had said that masturbation was very dangerous and that he might go mad, he said . . well . . . he said . . . he didn't care about what you had said."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Did he. I see."

She looked at him. And then turned to me.

"Livia, do you remember what I said to you in the garden when I sent you up to the schoolroom?"

I guiltily hung my head.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And what was it?"

"That if he was naughty or disobedient I was to call you."

"Yes. So when he was rude and resisted you and even questioned my authority, why did you not call me?"

"I am sorry Miss Strang, but . . . but I thought that I ought to . . . to try and deal with it myself."

Immediately I regretted my words.

"Did you Livia. And how did you deal with it?"

I said nothing. Trying to think how best I could answer her. But before I could do so she turned to John.

"John, I want you to tell me exactly how Livia dealt with your rudeness and resistance. Take your time and I want absolute honesty, please."

He looked at me, his eyes hard. I remembered how he had hoped that I would intercede for him, spare him further flogging, and I recalled his anxious gaze and how I had disappointed him.

"She . . . she threatened to tell you about the rudeness and I asked her not to. Then she said that she would punish me herself. She made me bend over and hold the sides of the . . . the chamber pot and then she got some nettles and rubbed them into my bottom, right into the . . the bit in between. And then she took a thick nettle stem from the table and put the tip over the . . . the hole and . . . and she pushed it in. It went right in and it hurt and I screamed and screamed. Then she took it out and I had to sit on the nettles again. Then, she told me not to tell you what she had done and . . . and she promised not to tell you that I had been rude."

He looked down, ashamed.

"John, I am sorry that Livia has treated you in this way. It was wrong, very wrong, and she will be punished. However, by your own admission you defied my authority. And you must also be punished.

"But . . . Miss Strang. Livia has punished me already. I told you."

"What Livia did was done without my authority, John. You have still to be punished by me. Go to the schoolroom and sit at your desk. And put your hands behind your head. I will come and deal with you in a moment. And when I come I do not want to find you slouching."

He went. And Miss Strang turned to me. Her voice was cold.

"Go to your room and change into your nightdress. I will come and speak to your there."

I too went, desolate and frightened. Slowly I removed all my clothes, folded them and slipped on my nightdress. I raised it and looked at my bottom in the mirror. Then I heard Miss Strang's footsteps in the corridor and quickly dropped it. She entered and stood in the doorway for a moment.

"Put your hands behind your back, Livia."

I did so and my face was hot with shame. I felt as Adam must have felt when caught with the stain of the forbidden fruit on his lips. The slow realisation that something so small, so apparently insignificant, was about to translate the love of acceptance into the fearful love of punishment. And above all, loss. For Adam, the loss of being able to walk with the Lord God in the cool of the evening; for me, the loss of Miss Strang's trust and favour.

"Livia, I cannot tell you how disappointed I am with you. Only a few days ago I had cause to strap your hands in rather similar circumstances. Is that not right?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And can you recall exactly what you had done on that occasion to merit my taking the tawse to your hands?"

I struggled not to dissolve into tears.

"I . . . I touched John's bottom and felt where he had been caned.

"And why was that wrong?"

"You said it was because . . . because the marks of the cane showed he was like a little slave boy and you were his mistress and nobody else had the right to inspect his bottom or touch it. And . . . and when I touched him I . . . I was trespassing on your authority. I think that is what you said . . . Miss Strang."

"That is excellent, Livia. Very well remembered. Not only do you recall what I said, but the way you have repeated it tells me you have understood it, too. Is that right?"

I felt a stab of sunlight breaking through the dark lowering storm clouds.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"But, of course, the fact that you understand so well makes your disobedience the more distressful, does it not?"

She paused waiting for my assent.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And do you remember my having to cane you over the prie dieu. Can you recall the reason for that?"

"Yes Miss Strang."

"Well?"

"John deserved to be punished for not tidying his clothes and I was going to do it for him. Then you came in."

"In other words, Livia, you deceitfully set about to frustrate my will for John. Something that was not in his interests. Is that not right?"

I hung my head, crying softly.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And do you know what those sins for which I had to punish you have in common with this present transgression?"

"I . . . I am not sure, Miss Strang."

"Then let me tell you, Livia. What they have in common is the presumption that you, a twelve year old girl, know better than I. Worse than that, you choose to arrogate to yourself responsibilities that are mine and mine alone. You acted as though you were John's governess. As though it was your right to determine whether he should be spared punishment; or, on this occasion, whether he should be punished and if so how. And worse still you were consciously deceitful and sought to hide this from me. And you inveigled John into your web of deceit. To my face you are respectful and obedient. Behind my back you are dishonest, and act in a way that shows how little respect you have for me. You punished John without my authority. You acted explicitly against my word. You were wilfully, intentionally and deliberately disobedient. Do I need to say more?"

By this time her measured exposure of my sin had reduced me to heartfelt sobbing.

"N. . . no, Miss Strang. Please. I am sorry."

I cast myself at her feet and stretching out my arms wrapped them around her ankles. She did not move and remained cold and implacable.

"Stand up, Livia. Now kneel and put your hands behind your back."

I did so. I wanted to look her in the face, search for some hint of acceptance; but instead I hung my head.

"You may be sorry, Livia. But let me remind you of what I said before I strapped your hands. I said that at the age of twelve girls begin to think themselves more grown up than they are. They think that rules no longer apply to them. They believe they can do what they like with impunity. And I said that though you may feel grown up you are only twelve. And that as a twelve year old you are still under my authority. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Well, I am pleased you remember. Go to the schoolroom. I will deal with you there. And you will not speak to John other than to tell him that he is on no account to speak to you. You are both in disgrace and will sit in complete silence."

(To be continued)